Chapter 9

9

SELENE

“ S o, to your rooms?” Dion asked, glancing around. “I’m not sure where Achilles has wandered off to, but I’m sure I can find him. He’s the one who knows what room you’ll be taking for the fortnight.”

Sighing, I shook my head. “No, nevermind all that. I’ll head to the feast first if that’s what’s expected of me.”

Duty above all else, after all.

“Good girl.” He patted me on the shoulder, and I fought the urge to hiss. I was not some pet to be praised for obediently following along. But I masked my emotions. As always. Already, it was grinding on my nerves.

As we started down the corridor, Achilles reappeared—or at least, I assumed it was Achilles. He smelled vampiric, but the armor blocked the specifics of his scent. Without speaking, he motioned Orpheus and the human sacrifice in the opposite direction, leading them to gods knew where.

I tried to still my worry. I was fairly certain they wouldn’t harm Orpheus, but I hated not knowing where Achilles was taking him. Orpheus wasn’t considered a true Titan, not like me. I’d been born, carried in my mother’s womb until I’d emerged into the world. Orpheus had once been human, then turned by my mother. She’d tried to save his mortal lover, too. And even though she’d failed, he’d loved her dearly for trying.

“Did your mother do much to prepare you for what happens during Nekros?” Dion asked, his boots clicking against the marble floor as his voice echoed eerily. “How much do you know about what happens here?”

I chose my words carefully. It was a delicate balance—I needed to appear strong and in control, but there was something to be said for keeping a few cards close to one’s chest.

“What she didn’t tell me before her unexpected death, Orpheus did.”

Dion cut his eyes my way, and something flashed across his expression—a knowing , like he understood exactly why I’d chosen the words I had.

“Your mother and I were friends, you know. I truly am sorry about her death,” he said when we reached a split in the corridor. He motioned us to head left, though he jogged a few steps in front of me. “She was a good soul.”

Heart pounding, I followed him around the corner. At the end of the hallway, two closed doors embossed with gold glimmered against the torchlight.

“Ah, here we are,” Dion said when we finally reached it. Soft music spilled through the cracks in the door from a harpist playing inside the grand hall—or the megaron, as the Olympians liked to call it. Dionysos palmed the golden door handles, then glanced over his shoulder with an arched brow. “Are you ready?”

No! I kept my face a mask of calm, but inside, I was screaming. My every instinct was at war with my mind. For the first time in my life, I imagined I felt an awful lot like humans did—like prey . My bones itched inside my skin. I wanted to run and hide and never come back here. Instead, I had to walk inside the room where my greatest enemies waited to rip me to shreds. Whether they did it now or later, it hardly mattered. One day, they would try.

The Fates had told me as much.

I never thought they’d do it here, but after the way Ares had threatened me outside…

“I’m ready,” I said in a measured voice that betrayed none of my fear.

With an ominous smile, Dionysos shoved open the doors. “And so it begins.”

The first thing I saw was an oak table. It stretched beneath a bronze chandelier topped with at least two dozen crimson candles. A droplet of wax splattered on the deep red tablecloth, barely missing a goblet of wine—or blood. I sniffed the air. Yes, it was definitely blood.

As if sensing my attention, the vampire monarch plucked the goblet from the table, swished the liquid, and glanced over her bare shoulder at me. A contrast to her wavy black hair that was cut to her shoulders, her crimson eyes burned bright. She flashed me a smile, then lifted her goblet toward me in a silent toast.

“The Titan has arrived,” she drawled.

At once, the room fell silent. I hadn’t noticed how noisy it had been until now. Where before the harp’s lilting music swirled through the bark of laughter, murmur of conversation, and clattering of forks and spoons, it was so quiet now that I could hear Dion’s thunderous heartbeat. Interesting. He was more on edge than I was.

I swallowed, my eyes locked on the dark-haired, pale-faced monarch. According to the portraits and lessons, this could be none other than High Queen Aphrodite, the ruler of Cyprus. Friendly with everyone but fiercely independent, it had never been clear where her true loyalties lie.

My attention shifted to the three monarchs sitting on the right side of Aphrodite. Beside her lounged a pixie-faced woman whose long blonde locks curled around delicate shoulders—that would be Hera, Zeus’s former lover. Across from her sat a black vampire clutching her goblet with long fingers donned with a dozen golden rings, one of which was in the shape of a winged serpent. Demeter, then. Interesting the three of them sat together. Rumors swirled about Demeter’s mortal daughter from before she’d been turned. Persephone had been trapped in the underworld for centuries, ever since Zeus had given her to Hades as some kind of twisted gift.

“Come,” Dionysos said, his hand at my elbow. “Let’s sit.”

I let him lead me to the end of the table where the three women sat, very pointedly ignoring the other end, where I knew I’d find Ares and Zeus, along with the others: Hephaestus, Apollo, Hermes, Athena, Artemis, and Poseidon.

I supposed this was where the line cut, between those eight and these four. And I’d somehow found myself on the wrong side of it, at least if I wanted to convince Zeus I wasn’t a threat. Of course, I could hardly sit in alliance with Ares, either.

I would just have to let this all play out.

After Dion led me to an empty chair beside Demeter, he settled in on the other side of me and lifted his goblet toward the chandelier.

“Hear, hear! May the annual blood orgy begin!” he shouted.

I winced. I’d heard it called that before—by mortals.

“Do not disrespect Erebus. Call Nekros what it is, Dionysos,” a gravelly voice boomed, echoing through the expansive room.

A vein in my neck pulsed. Palms suddenly slick with sweat, I tugged on the sleeve of my gown and looked down the length of the table, to where an imposing vampire squatted on a throne covered in ivy and roses. He was staring right at me, and I couldn’t help but shudder. It felt as if his crimson eyes pierced through my every defense. With wild, wavy hair worn to his shoulders, a bushy beard, and an unbuttoned, wrinkled tunic stained with splotches of red, he looked unkempt. Like a mess. But I knew better than to make assumptions based on appearances, least of all about him.

This was the king who had killed my mother, and he’d done so without hesitation. Mess was the opposite of whatever he was.

His lips curled into a smile. “Welcome, High Queen Selene. Ah, that rhymes, doesn’t it? I wouldn’t be shocked to hear that Theia planned it that way. She knew she wouldn’t rule much longer, not with her secret worship of Gaia.”

He’s trying to get a rise out of you.

I dug my nails into my gown’s thick fabric. “Thank you for the invitation, High King Zeus.”

“Archon to you,” Zeus corrected. “And it was a summons. Not an invitation.”

“Archon,” I murmured, inclining my head in a frustrating approximation of a bow. I’d never bowed to anyone my entire life, not even to my mother when she’d been alive. And it felt wrong now. We were all High Queens and Kings of our own kingdoms. No one was the utmost ruler, not by power or by might, even if Zeus wanted to believe he was.

The vampire to the left of Zeus guffawed and smacked his hand against the table, knocking aside a bowl and scattering pomegranate seeds onto the floor. His deep orange hair cascaded around broad shoulders clad in a simple ruffled tunic, and two horns curled from the top of his head, as sharp and deadly as his canines.

“Knew you’d fall in line,” Hermes said, shaking his head. “They thought you’d put up a fight and avenge your mother, but you’re a Titan. And Titans always back down.”

Tensing, I looked at where Hermes indicated. Hera, Dionysos, Aphrodite, and Demeter stared back at me, their expressions dimmed. Dion gave me a salute, then grabbed a pitcher and doused his chalice in wine, spilling half of it on the table. He barely seemed to notice the mess when he gulped the entire contents of his drink.

“I am here to fulfill my duty,” I said carefully. “And nothing more.”

“Well, your duty starts here,” Zeus bellowed. He snapped his fingers, producing two servants from the shadows of a vine-drenched archway toward the back of the room. They bustled toward the table, their drab robes scraping the floor around their bare feet. They hunched forward, their gaunt cheeks bruised pink. I sat perfectly still as they poured fresh blood into the goblets, shuffling from one monarch to the next. With the way they trembled, they were clearly struggling to stand, let alone serve. Zeus had not been letting them feed nearly enough.

“To the start of another Nekros,” Zeus said, raising his goblet. Slowly, everyone around the table, including those nearest me, followed his lead and lifted their drinks toward the glimmering chandelier.

Zeus kept his goblet raised and looked around the table. His gaze lingered on every face for a moment, an unspoken threat emanating from his expression. He left me for last. When his eyes locked on mine, he continued his speech.

“We meet here on the Isle of Aiaia each year to offer our thanks to our beloved creator. Erebus made us into the gods we are. To ensure our continued dominion over this land, he requires a sacrifice of blood from each of us.” He nodded toward me. “Even from the Titan.”

Hera muttered something beneath her breath.

Zeus’s head swivelled her way, and his heavy attention settled on his former lover. “Is there something you would like to add, Hera?”

“It’s just I see no reason to fib,” she countered with a grim smile. “Erebus didn’t create Selene. She is a Titan, lest you forget.”

“Oh, trust me, I have not forgotten,” Zeus said viciously.

I held up my hands. “It’s fine. I brought a sacrifice for Erebus. As I said before, I’ve come to do my duty.”

Hera leaned across the table, her youthful face a striking contrast to the ancient wisdom in her eyes. I hadn’t aged for several years, but Hera appeared impossibly youthful and much younger than me. She was as fresh-faced and sparkling as a human girl of twenty-two. But at two-hundred-and-three, Hera was one of the eldest among them, second only to Zeus.

The queen who had once loved Zeus patted my hand. “My love, it should not be your duty. If I had my way, we would release Troy, and you, from this sham of a treaty. In fact, I would release every damn one of us.”

“I…” I fell silent, my hours of preparation and speech recitals failing me. I hadn’t come here expecting anything like this. I’d known Zeus and Hera were at odds, yes, but I thought it was nothing more than a lover’s quarrel.

“Those are treasonous words, Hera,” came another voice, one almost as deep and as gravelly as Zeus’s. The towering vampire king, whose skin reflected a pale blue light, slowly stood from his seat, fisted hands braced on the wood. He glared down the table at Hera. “Just because you once took Zeus’s cock in your—”

“Poseidon, I’ll have you stop right there,” Zeus said, scowling.

Poseidon clenched his jaw and rubbed the rough skin of his cheeks. Beneath the candlelight, they almost looked like scales. “Apologies, Archon.”

High King Poseidon sat, but he kept his glare trained on Hera’s face. She smiled at him.

“High Queen Selene, why don’t you join us on this side of the table?” Zeus gestured at an empty chair sandwiched between a thin-lipped, stern-faced queen—Athena—and a king with waist-length blond hair and a crimson scarf tied around his neck—Apollo. I cleared my throat, uneasy. If I got up and left Dion’s side of the table, I knew it would come across like a declaration of loyalty to Zeus, and I would lose any favor I had with him. And I could tell I had a little.

But if I refused, Zeus would take offense.

“Go on,” Ares said, finally making his voice known for the first time since I’d entered the room. I had been avoiding looking at him after the confrontation outside.

I lifted my eyes and met his fierce gaze. There was a reckless edge to his expression, and I could practically read his mind. I dare you to stay right there . In fact, I bet he wanted me to do just that, to defy his precious Archon. It would give him an excuse to move against me.

And that, out of everything else, was what made up my mind.

I stood. My chair scraped against the marble floor, echoing through the silent room. The harpist had not yet returned to fill the strained silence with anything other than the thundering of hearts.

Hera sighed. Dion leaned back in his chair and chugged another chalice of wine. Aphrodite and Demeter continued to sit quietly, but they shot each other a weighted glance.

A pang went through my gut. I yearned to apologize, to explain why I had to move. But I didn’t.

Instead, I reluctantly walked across the floor and sat with the vampire who had murdered my mother. And when Ares shot me a smile, I imagined all the ways I would make him suffer for this.