Chapter 7

7

ARES

S he shouldn’t have come here. The Titan was a bloody idiot if she thought she’d survive this place. The peace treaty and the Hellas Agreement be damned. The Olympians were on the brink of war. All it would take was one wrong move—one wrong breath —and all of Hellas would burn the fuck down.

And I’d be lying if I said a part of me didn’t want to watch it happen.

Starting with Troy.

Rolling back my shoulders, I strode through the golden doors of the megaron, where Zeus and Poseidon were deep in conversation about…who the fuck knew what. Those two were always scheming. Probably something to do with Hera, who had taken a seat at the far end of the table, as far from Zeus as she could get. She propped her chin on her fisted hand, her youthful, pixie face twisted into a scowl.

I took my seat near Zeus, right beside Hestia. My advisor—and dearest companion—leaned in close. Wavy silver hair fell into her youthful face. “Is she here?”

“Unfortunately,” I said.

Hestia’s crimson eyes flared, and a sigh escaped her lips. She knew just as well as I did how this would end. As one of the original thirteen Olympians, she’d been here through it all and had witnessed the strain on peace, and how it grew thinner and thinner as the years bled by.

I was certain it wouldn’t be this bad if she hadn’t refused the thirteenth crown when Erebus had first offered it to her. Troy should have gone to her, not to the Titan. But Hestia, being the woman she was, had refused power.

“How was she?” Hestia whispered into my ear.

“About what you’d expect. As cold as a corpse and full of hatred toward me.”

Hestia patted me on the arm. “Well, you did attempt to kill her after telling her that Zeus murdered her mother.”

I arched a brow. “Are you defending the Titan?”

“No, I’m just saying I can hardly blame her. And get that look off your face. I’m never taking her bloody crown. Give up on that, Ares.”

Sighing, I folded my arms and leaned back in my seat. “It’s yours by rights, Hestia. Why do you think Zeus allows you to join Nekros? He wants you on the throne in Troy, too.”

Every monarch was permitted to bring two things to the Isle of Aiaia for Nekros: a human sacrifice and one advisor. But the advisors were banned from most proceedings, like the welcome feast. Not even Hestia was allowed to attend, though she could enjoy the food and wine before it officially started. Zeus bent the rules for her because she was one of us. An original Olympian vampire god, created by Erebus’s blood.

She should have her own crown, like the rest of us.

Hestia huffed, a tiny little sound that was more endearing than anything else. It was the closest she ever came to showing anger. I’d never once even heard her raise her voice.

“What about what I want?” she asked. “Or does that not matter to you?”

Hestia cocked her head, gazing at me with her wide luminous eyes. Something in me softened. I didn’t want to put a weight on her head if she didn’t want it there, even if our world would be better off with her on the throne instead of Selene.

The Titans were the source of all our discord. They always had been. Zeus seemed to think he’d sorted the issue by murdering Theia and letting Selene take the throne in her place, but I wasn’t so sure. There was something going on in Troy, something Zeus refused to confirm because that meant visiting the city of his nightmares.

No one else knew just how much he feared the place. I was one of the few he truly trusted.

“Well? Does it matter to you, Ares?” Hestia asked, loosing a little huff again.

“Of course it does. I just…one of us should rule Troy instead of a Titan, and it should be you. It always should have been you.”

“No, Ares. It should be you. I’m not suited to rule, and you know it. I’m far too soft. And since our kingdom borders theirs, you could easily subsume their lands and make them part of the Kingdom of Pergamon.”

I sighed and lifted a goblet of wine from the table. “If only the gods would allow it.”

As if my words had conjured their attention, the torches in the corridor outside the megaron flared to life. A moment later, Hephaestus came inside. The flames illuminated his deep brown hair and the bronze skin peeking out of his unbuttoned tunic.

He walked over to our side of the table, supporting his bad leg with a steel cane. “Guess who’s here. The pretty Titan.”

“Yes,” I said drily. “I already saw her.”

“She’s a gorgeous thing, and she looks just like her mother.” Hephaestus frowned. “Who was her father again? Some bastard from the streets, right?”

We’d known Theia kept a lover, but she’d never introduced him to the Thirteen Crowns, let alone brought him to Nekros. I’d always suspected she’d wanted to hide the truth of who he was—a nobody, really. If she was involved with someone in her court, the rumors would have reached the rest of us. Or at least that was what we’d thought. She’d surprised us all how easily she kept her own daughter a secret for so long.

Hestia’s face drew tight, and she wagged a finger at him. “Don’t you turn your nose up like that. It’s no matter who he was and where he was from. But no, he was a lord.”

“Wait a minute.” Hephaestus leaned across the table. “You’ve got a funny look on your face. Don’t tell me he was human ?”

“No, of course not,” Hestia said quickly, glancing at me. “He was a vampire lord named Valerius.”

“Says who?” Hephaestus asked.

She shifted on her seat, her eyes darting back and forth between me and Hephaestus. I’d told her my suspicions and had asked her to keep it between us until I’d verified it. But Hestia had never been good at keeping secrets.

“I don’t remember, Heph. I’ve heard rumors and nothing more.” With a big smile, she leaned onto her palm and blinked her eyes at him. “Say, did you bring any of your wine with you?”

Hephaestus brightened at that, and Selene’s parentage was immediately forgotten. He gave her a conspiratorial wink. “I brought loads. Want a glass?”

“I would love one, Heph,” she said, then glanced at me. “What do you say, Ares? Want to join us in a toast to the start of the one-hundred-and-ninety-fifth Nekros?”

I inclined my head. “Always.”

With a brilliant smile, Hephaestus climbed to his feet, grabbed his cane, and shuffled away to find his wine. As soon as he’d turned his back to us, Hestia blew out a tense breath. I felt it in my bones. If anyone examined Selene’s parentage for too long, they might suspect the truth, and that truth could get her killed.

But the Fates had made one thing achingly clear. One day, my kingdom would fall, and I’d lose everything I held dear. And there was only one way to stop it.

If Selene was who I thought she was, I had to be the one who killed her.