29

29

Apollo

Pandora is a lovely conversationalist and I detect some social training in the way she’s so effortlessly able to keep the topics light but interesting. Safe. She also successfully dodges all my careful probes for information. She’s cheerful in the extreme, but she’s no fool.

Then again, no one in Minos’s party appears to be a fool. Unfortunate, that.

Even Ariadne is making herself scarce after sitting next to me at dinner last night.

Minos clears his throat, and I can’t help tensing up in response. Another party game is coming, another frustrating set of hoops to jump through for his amusement. They were irritating before. Now participating feels particularly ghoulish.

The facade of concern is gone from Minos today. He’s smiling as brightly as I’ve become accustomed to, and his voice is boisterous as he comments on the quality of the meal we just consumed. But there’s something… I can’t quite put my finger on it. Something off.

Cassandra squeezes my knee and leans close. “You’re glaring.”

I make an effort to smooth my expression, but it’s more difficult than normal. What is it about him that’s making my instincts stir?

Minos gestures broadly. “This week has been more than I could have dreamed. I am incredibly grateful that you’ve all consented to come here and allow me to entertain you.”

More like he’s the one entertained by the whole process. It’s not as if he’s participating. He’s sitting back and watching us—watching me—run around like a rat in a maze. I catch myself clenching my jaw and focus again on relaxing my expression.

“Did you know my dear departed wife, Pasiphae, was a great fan of historical romance books?” He continues without waiting for an answer. I catch sight of Ariadne across the table, looking like she wants to melt into the ground. “It’s in her honor that we play these games.”

I raise my brows. And here I thought it was solely to humiliate some of the most powerful people in Olympus for your own amusement. Or, if Cassandra is right, to commit violent acts to gain leverage on those same people.

As if sensing my thought, Cassandra squeezes my thigh. She doesn’t look at me, but it’s enough of a reminder to stop glaring. I’ve never had this much trouble controlling my expression, but I’ve never dealt with a frustration like Minos represents. Even with the progress we’ve made, he represents everything that is wrong with this city. Power and corruption, and too many of my peers are willing to wade into the muck if it means getting ahead.

Minos continues, ignoring the looks people are exchanging around the table. “With that in mind, this afternoon is her particular favorite for her favorite child. I’m not sure why. Since he was a little boy, he hasn’t done a single damn thing right. Always the fuckup, aren’t we, Icarus?” He laughs, but no one else at the table does.

This isn’t the first time I’ve heard a parent be terrible to their child in what amounts to a public setting, but it’s extremely uncomfortable. Icarus looks a little sick to his stomach, but he’s been particularly quiet during the whole meal, his face drawn and dark circles beneath his eyes.

Minos continues, blatantly ignoring the strange currents that he caused. “Blindman’s bluff.”

“What the fuck is that?” Cassandra murmurs.

There’s no way Minos could hear her, but he answers all the same. “One of the party is blindfolded and disoriented and must guess the identity of the person they touch.”

It’s a strange game, and an even stranger choice to pick a “winner” through. Aphrodite leans back, her dark eyes challenging. She’s tucked under Adonis’s arm, but there’s a new tension in her since the events of yesterday. She keeps touching him almost possessively, and while she hasn’t looked at Theseus once during the entire meal, there’s no doubt it’s for his benefit.

Now, she sarcastically raises her hand. “A question.”

Minos’s smile doesn’t flicker. “Yes, Aphrodite?”

“The game ends when the blindfolded person guesses the identity of the person they touch. How can there be a group winner?”

“Ah, yes, that is traditionally how the game is played. For our purposes, though, I propose an alternative way.” He chuckles. “The one blindfolded will go around the circle and guess as many identities as possible. The person with the most correct guesses will take Icarus off my hands.” His chuckle turns to a booming laugh. “Sorry, I misspoke. They win a date with Icarus. If only getting rid of this son was such an easy task!”

“I see,” she says slowly.

“Shall we begin?” He turns and leads the way out of the dining room.

I exchange a look with Cassandra. “Wait until after.” I don’t dare say more with so many witnesses, not even speaking low in her ear. She’ll understand. There’s no point in trying to pull Hermes aside to talk now.

“Of course.” She rolls her eyes, though the expression is half-hearted. “Let’s do this.”

Once again, we find ourselves back in the elaborate living room. If before I could not define why Minos made his choices with these games, today it’s abundantly clear that he intends to humiliate Icarus for some unknown reason. Minos sits in the so-called place of honor in a high-backed chair that we form a reluctant ring around, with Icarus at the head. As at the table, he looks like he wants to be anywhere but here.

It makes me wonder if Icarus is just as unhappy with coming to Olympus as Ariadne seems to be. If one child is willing to work against their father, maybe the other is as well. I’ll ask Cassandra after this. If my instincts are occasionally wrong, hers rarely are. She sees things that I miss all the time. Perhaps now is one of those times.

“For our first attempt…” Minos’s smile goes sly. “Aphrodite, if you would be so kind.”

She stands gracefully. Today she’s wearing a pair of tailored black pants and a violet silk blouse that leaves her arms bare. Her dark hair hangs in a curtain down her back as she strides to Minos and turns around so he can slip a blindfold over her face.

“Now, of course, we won’t want to make it too easy. Shift yourselves about the room, please.”

Cassandra huffs out an exasperated breath as I follow her, moving to stand next to the fireplace, across from where we’d been. She doesn’t say anything, though. We’re too busy watching Minos carefully spin Aphrodite in place. Too many times, by my count, but I’m not the one running the game.

As it is, when he releases her, she stumbles. Not a single person makes a sound. It’s strangely eerie to watch her move forward with her hands outstretched. She finds Adonis first. He holds perfectly still as her hands come to rest on his chest. From my angle, I can catch her smile in profile. She coasts her hands up to his shoulders and over his neck to his strong jawline. He smiles as she explores his face with her fingertips.

Aphrodite laughs lightly. “I would know that smile anywhere, Adonis.” She leans up and presses a kiss to his lips.

Then she moves on. She’s better at the game than I would have reckoned. She mixes up the Minotaur and Theseus, but that may be because she seems reluctant to touch both. She also mistakes Eurydice for Artemis, which has Artemis glaring holes in her back. The rest of us, she guesses correctly, working her way around the circle until she stands before Pandora, who’s on my other side.

Though no one has confirmed or denied the guesses, she must know who it is she touches as she ghosts her fingers over the other woman’s arms and cups her face in surprisingly gentle hands. Aphrodite gives a wicked smile. “Only one way to say for certain.”

Then she kisses Pandora.

Without thinking, I look to Theseus. This is just another power play between him and Aphrodite, but I can’t help a shudder at the sheer fury in his eyes as he watches them. I hadn’t pegged his relationship with Pandora to be overly romantic, but they’re obviously close, and he’s undeniably enraged to see Aphrodite kissing her.

Aphrodite lifts her head, smiling. “Hello, Pandora.”

“Hi.” For her part, Pandora’s a little breathless.

And so it goes.

Each turn, Minos spins the blindfolded person and the rest of the guests rearrange themselves. I give up trying to stay next to Cassandra after the second round. There’s no reason to. She never leaves my sight.

The Minotaur does horridly, only guessing Theseus, Icarus, and Pandora correctly. Charon and Hephaestus only do slightly better. Dionysus seems to do poorly on purpose, though with him it’s impossible to say if that’s feigned or no. Adonis doesn’t seem to care at all, rattling off names the moment he touches a person, usually guessing incorrectly. Artemis does nearly as well as Aphrodite. Cassandra gets everyone but the Minotaur correct.

Hermes, of course, has a perfect round. She tweaks Theseus’s beard, plants a kiss on Dionysus’s forehead, flirts shamelessly with everyone she touches, and kisses Cassandra with a little too much gusto for my peace of mind.

My jealousy has faded, though, nowhere near as pointed as it was yesterday. It helps that a blushing Cassandra sends me an apologetic look the moment Hermes moves on, that her gaze lingers on me even as we move on to Eurydice, who gets about half her guesses correct.

Then it’s finally my turn.

While watching everyone else, I underestimated how disorienting it would be to be blindfolded. I try to listen for the movements of the others, but with Minos spinning me, it’s an impossible task. When he finally releases me, I haven’t the slightest clue where everyone has relocated to.

I hate this game.

I feel like an absolute fool as I stretch out my hands and move directly forward. I dislike having my senses distorted, and the sensation only gets worse when I gingerly touch a man. He’s built lean, and the moment I reach his beard, I know. “Dionysus.”

I move around the circle slowly. Most of these people, I would not consider friends, let alone someone I’d intentionally touch like this. I try to keep my hands up high enough that I don’t accidentally brush against something I shouldn’t, but it means that I end up bumping into Hermes’s forehead instead of her shoulder when I reach her. “Sorry, Hermes.”

I fumble my way through the rest of the guests. Though it’s tempting to rush, my pride won’t allow it. I guess as well as I can, finally ending on Cassandra. I know her the moment my hand closes on her soft shoulder. Still, I coast my touch up to cup her jaw and feel for her distinctive lips.

I smile. “Hello, Cassandra.”

She’s the one to remove the blindfold from my eyes, and she smiles up at me as I blink at the abrupt change. There’s no time to say anything—I’m not even sure what I would say, since this is just a silly game—because Minos steps into the circle. “We have a clear winner! Hermes, congratulations.”

Hermes grins and winks at Icarus. “We’ll have some fun.” In the face of her unrelenting cheerfulness, even Icarus manages a smile.

Minos laughs. “Without a doubt. Now, I do believe tea is ready to be served. I’ll go check on the status of that. Please make yourselves comfortable.” He strides out the door without looking back.

“Teatime. Of course. Why not?” Eurydice shakes her head and sinks down onto the love seat next to Charon. They’re sitting slightly angled toward each other so their knees touch, and the careful way he holds himself at a respectful distance while maintaining that not-so-casual touch makes me both glad for Eurydice and sad for my foolish brother.

Charon gives a faint smile. “You like tea.”

“Yes, I do. I’m also ready to go home. This wasn’t fun before Pan got hurt, and now I’m jumping at every sound. I thought staying was the right thing to do, but that was obviously the wrong call. We’re wasting our time here.”

Charon takes her hand and lowers his head, speaking softly enough that I can’t hear what he’s saying. By my best guess, they’ll be gone before dinnertime. Whatever Charon came here to find, if he hasn’t found it by now, I doubt an extra day or two would change that.

Speaking of…

I turn to suggest Cassandra take the opportunity to speak with Hermes, but she’s nowhere in sight. Both women are gone.