In my father’s case, multiple times.
I stare at the tasteful cream decor and my stomach twists. Best not to think about that. Or the fact that my brother and sister-in-law occupied this same room for their political marriage back in May. I shudder. Tradition is a trap, but I’ve gone too far to back out now.
Hephaestus steps around me and makes a beeline to the kitchenette. There’s a bottle of whiskey there with a jaunty bow around it that seems to be made entirely of glitter. Even before he picks up the card and snorts, I know who it’s from.
Hermes. Up until two weeks ago, I considered her one of my best friends in this world. Now, I don’t know what to believe. My brother thinks she’s a traitor, and she hasn’t done much to disabuse him of the belief. I still can’t quite believe that she means this city harm or that she’s really allied with Hephaestus’s family. Surely there’s some game afoot. Surely she didn’t feed Minos information with the intention of bringing Olympus and the Thirteen down.
Maybe that belief makes me naive. I’ve been accused of worse.
I swallow past the complicated feelings the thought of her brings and cross to join Hephaestus at the counter. “Give me that.”
“I’ve got it.” He rips at the bow almost violently.
I barely resist the urge to snatch the bottle out of his hands and pick up the card instead. Hermes’s sprawling handwriting greets me.
Enjoy the wedding night, you two lovebirds!
I sigh and toss it aside. “Always playing games.”
“She’s an Olympian. It’s what your people do.” He finally gets the bow off and drops it to the counter with a disgusted grunt. The bottle top soon joins it. Hephaestus takes a long pull directly from the bottle. Another time, I’d make a biting comment about his manners, but right now I need the same fortification he obviously does.
No. Damn it, no.
I am not some weak princess, married off against her will. This wedding is by my design. If this were a story, I’d be the cunning queen, or even the evil witch. I am not helpless and I am not innocent.
If Hephaestus needs liquid courage, that means I’m the one coming out on top of today, no matter his nasty little trick with Adonis earlier. I still take the bottle from his hand and lift it to my lips, holding his gaze all the while. One swallow, then two. I stop myself there and set it on the counter with a clink. “Shall we, dear husband?”
He shakes his head slowly. “You really are Olympus’s wh—”
“I’m going to stop you there.” It takes everything I have to resist clenching my fists…and perhaps driving one right into his face. “This marriage can be as awful or as pleasant as you choose.” Lies. I have every intention of making each day a new torment for my dear husband. Any information I gather is valuable, and my brother has more plans in place to find out exactly what Minos is up to. We will attack this problem—this enemy—from several different directions.
If I can make my new husband suffer in the process? All the better.
He looks at me as if he’d like to toss me out the nearest window. The feeling is entirely mutual.
I resign myself to a torturous experience and turn for the bedroom. “Let’s get this over with.”
3
HEPHAESTUS
I take another long pull from the whiskey bottle before I follow Aphrodite down the hall to the ridiculously lavish bedroom. Everything about this place reflects Olympus as a whole. Wealth invested in useless things to create an aesthetic. Appearances are all that matter to the citizens of this city, and the longer I’m here, the less connected with reality I feel.
It doesn’t matter. I don’t need reality. I have Minos’s plans. It should be a victory beyond measure that a pissed-off orphan is now one of the thirteen most powerful people in one of the world’s most untouchable cities. I expected that feeling, anticipated it. This is what I’ve always wanted, after all. Power enough not to be fucked with.
I didn’t anticipate that power would feel like a steel trap closing around my leg.
Growing up, I always thought power meant freedom. Being brought into Minos’s household as a teenager only cemented that belief. He answers to one person, and even then, it’s rarely. I wanted that for myself, wanted it so desperately, I could taste it.
The last two weeks have shown me how wrong that belief is. I haven’t made a choice for myself since becoming Hephaestus. There’s more red tape than I could have dreamed, and it all culminates with this fucking marriage and this fucking night.