Chapter 12

12

SELENE

T he torches led me through the palace maze. I turned down one corridor, then the next. I went up a carpeted flight of stairs, curving bannisters engulfed in cobwebs and dust. When the torches led me past furniture hidden beneath faded black sheets, I began to wonder if they were playing a little trick on me. Another game built by the Olympians to make my time here as miserable as possible.

But then they flared, bright and hot, outside a seemingly innocuous door just past the covered furniture. When I drifted past it, the torches on the other side of the door remained off. Seemed like a fairly good sign. I stopped, tried the knob. The door creaked as it swung inward.

When I stepped inside the room, a few candles flamed to life, spilling pale orange light across a marble floor and a velvet settee swallowed by a mound of black pillows. My wooden trunks packed with my crown and my clothes were lined up beside the door, waiting for me. Gold-lined portraits of the Olympians adorned the walls—one of Zeus, slightly higher than the others. His crimson eyes seemed to burn through the canvas.

With a shudder, I turned. A columned archway led to another room, where a four-poster bed backed up to a wall dripping in thorny vines. Beyond it, curtains fluttered in the wind. The floor-to-ceiling window had been left open, leading to a balcony with a view of the indigo sky. Sunrise would arrive soon.

The rustle of wings drew my attention. I rushed toward the balcony, my heart lifting, and a small black bird soared through the open window. My raven curled his talons and settled on my shoulder. When I felt the familiar weight of them there, I crumpled onto the edge of the bed, nearly sobbing from relief.

Hector was a steadying presence, an anchor amidst a barrage of new scents, new sounds, and new faces that belonged to vicious kings and queens playing a game I knew I did not fully understand. Back in Troy, I’d never gone anywhere without him. To be apart for even a few hours had felt torturous. Nearly as torturous as not shoving a wooden blade into Zeus’s black heart the moment I’d laid eyes on him.

Hector cawed, sensing my inner turmoil. I sighed and brushed my cheek against his feathers.

“Thank you for waiting outside,” I whispered. “I know it was the last thing you wanted to do.”

Hector cawed a mournful sound. It reminded me of when I’d buried my mother’s ashes. He’d gone with me, singing to keep the painful silence at bay. His birdsong had been a tribute to my grief.

I’d taken her ashes deep into the ruins near the city, where vampires and humans had long buried their dead. There was a cave hidden inside the crumbling structure, the entrance engulfed by vines. No one knew about that cave, save for my mother and me. Not even Orpheus knew where it was. When I’d barely been old enough to comprehend, my mother taken me from the city and she’d shown me that place. And then she’d pulled my hands to her face, and she’d begged me to scatter her ashes there.

When I’d asked why, my mother had said, “I promise on the moon above I will tell you when you’re older.”

But just like everything else she’d promised to tell me, she’d died before she’d had the chance. I supposed she’d assumed she had more time, never realizing just how precious life was, even for someone who could live a thousand lives. Even for an immortal. There was never any guarantee that tomorrow would come.

Hector hopped off my shoulder and landed on my knee, blinking up at me. And as our eyes met, I swore I could understand his thoughts, as much as that was an impossibility. No one, not even my mother, had known how to explain the bond I shared with Hector. It was as if we’d been born beneath the same moon and forged from the same stardust.

One of my first memories was of Hector. I’d been crawling around on the throne room floor while my mother and Medea—whose name I’d been too young to know at the time—were arguing about something. I’d been tugging on the bottom of my mother’s gown, desperate for attention. There were no other children in the palace for me to play with, and I was bored.

Until Hector had appeared, his form backlit by the full moon beyond the windows. He’d flown right to my side, his talons clicking against the floor. Then he’d cocked his head and blinked. Instantly, I’d been enamored by him, and he by me.

He’d been by my side as I’d grown from a crawling, bloodthirsty babe and into a gangly legged adolescent, when I’d fallen in love for the first time with one of the mortal warriors who guarded the wall. Though, I had to admit now, it wasn’t so much “love” as it was an unrequited infatuation with someone who never would have dared look at me twice, even if I’d been of age. It was the crimson eyes; mortals didn’t much like looking into them.

Regardless of his disinterest, my mother discovered my crush and locked me in my tower for weeks, even after banishing the poor guard from Troy. I’d cried for days. Hector had never strayed from my side, even bringing me vials of blood from time to time to keep up my energy.

And then he’d been with me years later when I’d tried to scale the outer wall of the palace to explore the city under a full moon night, just to breathe and stretch my legs and feel the mist racing along my skin. The second my feet had touched the ground, I’d been caught, of course. Hector had perched by my side during the long days that followed, when I’d been locked in my rooms once again.

And he was with me now, too. He would be with me always. Not even Zeus or Ares or the whole bloody lot of Olympians could tear him from my side—for they’d never even know he was here.

I read all this and more in Hector’s eyes as we sat in the faint candlelight, breathing in the scent of sea wind and thinking of our kingdom, far from Aiaia’s shores, where mortals did not fear death every time they stepped beyond the threshold of their homes.

A knock sounded on my door. I rose from the bed, my hands clenching. I knew better than to hope for Orpheus. It would be Ares, having abandoned the party to track me down and continue his harassment.

“This room is mine. I claim it,” I whispered.

He knocked again, this time harder. I scowled at the door. Now that I’d claimed the room, he couldn’t enter unless I invited him inside. It was one of the few protections anyone had against vampires—Titans and Olympians alike. If he wanted to antagonize me, he’d have to wait until tomorrow.

“High Queen Selene,” the knocker called out through the door. “Please open up. We need to speak with you. Urgently.”

I frowned. The voice was soft, feminine. I crossed the room and reached for the door, sucking in a calming breath before I slowly turned the knob. When I tugged the door open, I peered into the hallway. Aphrodite and Hera stood between the flickering torches, casting furtive glances over their shoulders.

When Hera saw I’d opened her door, she began to step forward, but stopped short when her body hit the barrier.

Her gaze fiercely narrowed. “You invoked the threshold curse?”

“Yes, and you’d be smart to do it for your room, too, especially after what happened during the feast,” I answered in that steady, queenly voice I’d honed to perfection. Gone was any trace of the mess I’d been only moments before.

“It sends a message I don’t think you want to send,” said Hera. “If we are committed to our peace treaty, we have no reason to invoke the threshold curse.”

“It isn’t my commitment I’m worried about,” I said. “It’s Zeus and Ares, the two who orchestrated my mother’s death.”

Aphrodite pursed her crimson lips. “You’re right to be wary of them. That’s why we’re here. We need to speak to you about Zeus while he’s distracted by his drink and music.”

I considered them both for a moment, then I stepped outside my room, crossed the hallway, and pushed inside the door opposite mine. I paused on the threshold, brow raised. “If you want to speak with me, you can do so in here.”

Hera scowled, but Aphrodite smiled and inclined her head. “Very well. We’ll speak in there.”

At that, Hera’s scowl fell. Sighing, she followed us through a thick layer of cobwebs lining the door. I batted them away, trailing inside the empty room. It was empty, save for shadows. Hera shut the door behind her.

“You know you have nothing to fear from us,” Hera said without any preamble. “We can’t kill you, not unless we wish to risk the wrath of the gods.”

“There are some who might decide my death is worth the risk,” she said.

“Zeus?” Aphrodite shook his head. “He’s more cowardly than you think.”

Hera nodded. “It was cowardice that made him kill your mother. He was afraid of her. He always has been.”

A stab of pain went through my heart. “Why are you here? What do you want from me?”

Aphrodite and Hera exchanged a weighted glance. Neither seemed eager to speak. Hera kept wringing her hands, and the line of her tense lips blanched white.

After a long moment, Aphrodite folded her arms and drifted over to the bare window. Outside, orange streaks tore through the sky, signalling the dawn of another day—and the bedtime of the vampires.

The Olympian sighed, her shoulders tensing. “Zeus will be our undoing unless we find a way to stop him.”

“I’m not sure I understand what you mean,” I said carefully.

“You, of all people, should know exactly what we mean,” Aphrodite said. “And you were there when he revealed a new treachery. He killed Dion’s lover.”

“He’s a bastard, cruelly wielding power over the rest of us. Power he doesn’t even own. He calls himself our Archon, but he is not our leader. We’re all equals, the Thirteen Crowns. That’s how it’s supposed to work,” Hera said fiercely.

“He didn’t murder your mother because she worshipped Gaia.” Aphrodite turned, her sharp gaze narrowing on my face. “He did it to make a statement. If we cross him, he will take us out, one by one. The treaty? It doesn’t matter. He’ll find a way around it, just as he did with Theia.”

“And even if he doesn’t make a move, he’ll torment us until one of us snaps,” Hera said, her scowl returning. “I worry about what Dionysos will do in retaliation. He might very well be willing to fall, if it meant getting vengeance.”

“I see,” I said.

Aphrodite furrowed her brow. “ You see ?”

“Yes, I understand what you’re saying.”

Hera huffed a bitter laugh. “I told you, Aphrodite. This one won’t help us. She’s like a stone statue, unmoved by anything, not even her mother’s death.”

“I came here to do my duty and then return home to my people,” I said, raising my voice. “I keep trying to explain that to everyone, but no one seems to listen.”

Hera suddenly gripped my arm and dug her fingernails into my velvet sleeve, hard enough a flash of pain went through my skin. “Listen, child —”

“I am no child,” I said, narrowing my gaze. “I am the High Queen of Troy and a member of the Thirteen Crowns. And you will let go of me now.”

“Zeus is going to destroy us all,” Hera hissed. “Likely starting with you. Don’t you bloody care?”

“You were the one who just said he’s too cowardly to break the treaty.” I shook off Hera’s hand and started toward the door. “Now if you don’t mind, I’ve had a long journey, and I would like to get some rest.”

“He is a coward, but he will find a way eventually,” Hera insisted. “Look at what he did to Eros. A primordial god in another realm, who should be untouchable.”

I paused. “What do you mean? What did he do to Eros?”

“You don’t know?” Aphrodite asked softly. “Zeus captured Psyche. He threatened to kill her if Eros didn’t curse you and your mother with the same curse he gave us. That’s how he was able to kill her with the wooden stake.”

My heart pounded. When Ares had cornered me that day, he’d told me the method Zeus had used to kill my mother. I’d just never been able to figure out how he’d passed that weakness on to us.

“Where is Psyche now?” I asked.

“We assume he still has her locked away somewhere. As leverage,” Hera said. “So you see what we’re dealing with here?”

“But surely the other gods would do something…” I murmured.

“Which gods?” Hera asked with a laugh. “Aether hates conflict. And Chaos? He’s never bothered to get involved with this realm, and I doubt he cares about Eros and his mortal love.”

“Gaia,” I whispered, not daring to speak the god’s name any louder than that.

“Your Trojan god cannot help you, Selene,” Aphrodite said solemnly. “When she agreed to the pact, she vowed not to interfere. If she could, your fellow Titans would be free from Tartarus by now. And your mother…she’d still be alive.”

Hot tears burned my eyes. I blinked them back, refusing to let them fall. It had been years since I’d fully cried, and I would not do it now in front of my enemies.

“I don’t have any answers for you then,” I said, turning my back on them both. “Now good night—morning. This conversation is over, and we mustn’t speak of it again.”