If her attitude is a mask, it’s the best I’ve ever seen.
Hephaestus sees me coming and sits back abruptly, his smile falling away and clouds gathering in his dark eyes. I dislike how attractive he is. Medium-brown skin and dark-red hair that’s actually trimmed properly for this event. His muscular frame marked him as a warrior before his injury, and I have no doubt that even with his injured knee, he can do plenty of damage.
He killed the last Hephaestus, after all.
I slip around the table and take my place at his side. I can do this. I chose this. The reception is all but over, and then all that’s left is to consummate the marriage. After that, I can put the next stage of my plan into motion. For the next hour or two, I simply need to endure. Even knowing it’s coming, the rest of the reception passes in a blur of congratulations.
And then it’s time to see us off.
Hephaestus has only just moved into the penthouse he inherited with the title—likely because his predecessor’s people made the transition difficult—and I have no intention of letting him into my home. As a result, we’ve booked a hotel room for the night.
It was the simplest solution, but I’m regretting the short trip now. The remaining wedding guests line the hall, tossing flowers before us, a perfect blend of red—roses and carnations and poppies. It creates a beautiful stage for us to walk down, holding hands as if we’re a real husband and wife, instead of enemies. Distantly, I note the photographer taking pictures furiously. Helen will go over which to release tonight, and the rest will be sent to me afterward.
What’s the point in a wedding as a distraction if everyone isn’t talking about it?
My sister appears at the end of the hall and pulls me into a quick hug. “Be safe,” she whispers. Something cold presses into my hand.
I glance down and nearly laugh. It’s a small knife, wickedly curved and designed to fit perfectly in the palm of my hand. “What am I supposed to do with this?”
“He’s a murderer, Eris.” She hugs me again, speaking directly into my ear. “Do what you have to.”
I don’t tell her not to worry. Truthfully, this wedding was a gamble. It could be as much a trap for me as I intend it to be for Hephaestus. If one of his family decides to kill me and trigger the assassination clause—the carefully guarded, fucked-up bit of old Olympian lore that gained Hephaestus his place in the Thirteen—they would be entitled to my title. Being alone with him is asking for an ambush.
But that danger goes both ways.
“I’ll be safe.”
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.” She steps back and then our brother is there. He doesn’t hug me; he’s not really the hugging type.
He just looks at me and nods. “Do what you have to do.”
Helen makes an angry sound, but she’s never really understood Perseus—now Zeus—the way I do. He’s ruthless to a fault and clinically cold, both traits our bastard of a father encouraged, but he’s never railed against his role in this city. Not like Helen. Not like Hercules. I wince a little at the thought of our youngest brother. He’s not here. He was invited, of course, but he’s made it clear he’s not returning to Olympus, even if our father is gone.
I try not to hold that against him. He’s happy and that’s enough for the others. It has to be enough for me, too.
“I always do what I have to.” I turn away from what remains of my family and walk with my new husband to the elevator that will take us up to the honeymoon suite. The doors close and I’m alone with Hephaestus for the first time.
I don’t know what I expect. Threats or more taunting, perhaps. He says nothing. The silence unnerves me, but this is a weapon I’m familiar with. My father didn’t use it often, but when he did, it was so bad I almost preferred his fists. He would ignore us when we made him a special shade of angry, would act as if he couldn’t see or hear us for hours and sometimes days. Perseus always seemed to find that almost a relief, but it made me wild with fury. When I was fifteen, I destroyed an entire room while shrieking at my father, and he sat there staring mildly out the window and drinking his coffee the entire time.
I shudder. I’m not fifteen any longer. Control has been hard-won, but it exists. The doors open before I can make a liar out of myself, and I charge forward, leaving Hephaestus to follow behind.
The honeymoon suite is lovely. Everything about this historic hotel is lovely; it’s why I picked it for the wedding. That and the fact that every member of my family going back generations has been married here.