3

3

Cassandra

Two Weeks Later

“You’re late. Is everything okay?”

I drop into the seat across from my sister and slump back against the chair. “Sorry, I got caught up in a report and lost track of time.” Apollo has me wading through reports from the lower city. Hades rules there and doesn’t take kindly to the rest of the Thirteen infringing on his territory, so information can be scarce, but ever since he married Persephone, there’s been slightly more communication allowed. Which means more information.

Truly, the lower city doesn’t sound half-bad. If I wasn’t so determined to get the fuck out of Olympus the first chance I get, I’d consider crossing the River Styx and seeing if the lower city embraces toxic culture and ruthless power plays the same way the upper city does.

My sister, Alexandra, smiles sweetly. Everything about her is sweet. No one can look at us and mistake us for anything but relatives—we have red hair, skin that the sun seems to have a personal vendetta against, and bodies that people call curvy when they’re trying to be oblique—but her lips naturally turn up at the corners instead of down. Our father used to joke that I came roaring into the world with a war cry and Alexandra arrived with a sunny giggle. She leans forward, dark eyes sparkling. “That seems to happen a lot since you started working for Apollo. I’m glad you like the job.”

“‘Like’ might be overstating things a bit.” My voice is too sharp, but I can feel a flush creeping across my skin. “It’s interesting. Apollo has nothing to do with it.”

“Sure he doesn’t.”

I open my mouth to snap, but I’ve worked hard to protect Alexandra from the worst Olympus has to offer. She’s seven years younger than me and was still a minor when my parents attempted their ill-fated coup. I worried that she’d see the same derision and suspicion that I did once our parents’ exile had been announced…so I made myself a target. It was easy enough to do. I’m already prone to spikes and snarls. It took very little effort to ensure they focused on me instead of Alexandra.

Mostly.

I take a quick sip of water. “Enough about me. How are classes going?”

“Cass, we never talk about you.”

“Because there’s nothing to talk about. I work and I go home. The most exciting thing about my week are these lunches with you.” It’s better that way. Most of the time, people forget I exist, which means they aren’t staring and whispering behind their hands about the liar Cassandra, who once loudly proclaimed that the Thirteen had murdered her parents.

It’s the truth.

Not that anyone believes me.

Alexandra smiles, oblivious to my dark thoughts. “Classes are going wonderfully. We’re just wrapping up the summer quarter in a couple weeks and gearing up for fall.”

With only a little prodding, she entertains me through lunch with tales of what her friend group is getting up to. I worried when she insisted on applying to the university instead of taking advantage of the free colleges Olympus offers. It put her directly in the paths of the scions of the legacy families, and I’m all too aware of what that can be like.

But Alexandra isn’t like me. I’ve worked so fucking hard to ensure she doesn’t have to fight her way through life. Our parents were selfish beyond belief when they put their own ambitions and desires above their children’s safety.

I will never make the same mistake.

It’s nothing less than a miracle that Alexandra has managed to maintain her sweetness through the years. I worry that it won’t last past the reality of graduation. It doesn’t matter that she’s somehow managed to avoid the worst of the bullying and bullshit up to this point. As soon as she starts looking for her dream job, she’s going to run face-first into the fact that everyone with a drop of power in the upper city hates our family and would love to see us both torn apart.

I have to find a way to get us out of here before that happens.

The waitress brings the check and I glance at my phone. “I have to get going or I’m going to be late.” Apollo doesn’t usually care if I take slightly longer lunches with Alexandra once a week, but he’s been in a strange mood since that meeting with Zeus.

“I can pay this time.”

I smile even as I snag the check. “Save those pennies for school.”

“You pay for my school.”

I pull out my credit card and tuck it next to the bill. “Here’s a wild thought. Why don’t you do something fun?”

My sister’s brows draw together. “I’m an adult now, Cass. You don’t have to keep mothering me. We’re equals.”

“Of course we’re equals.” But that doesn’t change the responsibility I feel for her. Twelve years ago, I was thrust into the role of her guardian, and I am still achingly aware that my sister needs protecting.

Whether she realizes it or not.

After the waiter returns with the bill, I sign the receipt and rise. “Same time next week?”

“You have a permanent spot in my calendar.” She pulls me into a tight hug. “Do something nice for yourself, Cass. Promise me.”

“I promise.” It’s even the truth, though I expect Alexandra wouldn’t consider an early evening with a book, a bubble bath, and a jumbo glass of wine something nice. But then, my sister likes people. I don’t.

“See you next week.”

I walk her to the bus stop that will take her back to the university district and wait until the bus arrives. Only then do I check the time, curse, and hurry back to the office.

It takes me several minutes after arriving back at my desk to realize that something’s wrong and another few seconds to locate the source of that wrongness.

Apollo’s door is closed.

I stare at it. It’s never closed. Ever. Honestly, I wish it were because he has the nasty habit of singing under his breath, but like everything else about him, his baritone voice is delightful. It’s highly distracting. Sometimes I have to go over reports two or three times because I catch myself zoning out, trying to identify what song he’s focused on.

A closed door should mean uninterrupted work. A closed door should make me happy.

I glare at it, arms crossed under my breasts. I can’t very well go knock on it and investigate. Not only would that give him the wrong idea, but it’s frankly none of my business.

Maybe he’s not even in there. Maybe he left and locked up behind him. That makes more sense than him shutting himself up for privacy.

For a spymaster, he’s really shitty at being secretive. If I were a romantic, I’d believe that means he trusts me, but it’s really that he’s strangely absentminded when he’s not focused on something. And when he is focused on something, sometimes he mutters under his breath. At least when he isn’t singing.

Gods, I’m a mess. Why am I obsessing over this man? I have work to do.

I start to turn for my desk—the only other piece of furniture in the small office that Apollo inhabits. He owns the whole building, of course, but he claims not to deal well with people—bullshit, people love him—so he prefers to have me run his communications with those outside the Thirteen. Technically, I guess that makes me some kind of manager, but my official title is executive assistant.

My job is challenging, and there’s nothing quite like the thrill of putting together two seemingly unrelated pieces of information and having the full puzzle snap into place.

The door swings open hard enough to bounce off the wall. I jump and then fight to smooth my expression into cool disinterest. Not a moment too soon.

The man who limps out of Apollo’s office is a beast. He’s got to be six two and built like a tank with broad shoulders, broad chest, just broad body. Medium-brown skin, reddish hair cropped close to his skull, a nicely trimmed beard, and empty dark eyes. He catches sight of me and sweeps a look over my body that shouldn’t feel threatening…but does.

I know who this is. I saw him compete—and fail—in the Ares tournament. Helen herself eliminated him, busting up his knee in the second trial before moving on to win the third and become Ares. The fight between them was brutal and I hadn’t been sure she’d win. He’d looked like he wanted to murder her. If she hadn’t prevailed, I think he might have attempted it.

Theseus.

“What are you doing here?” I don’t mean to speak, but the words fly out all the same, sharp and brittle. Olympus is full of predators—I know that better than anyone—but they usually pretend they’re just like the rest of us. Richer, more glamorous, more beautiful, maybe, but average and to be underestimated all the same.

There’s no underestimating this man.

Theseus doesn’t answer. He dismisses me nearly as quickly as he registers my appearance, brushing past me and out the door, violence in every uneven step.

I don’t stop to think. I just rush into Apollo’s office, half-sure I’m going to find his body instead of him.

Except…he’s fine.

He sits at his desk, staring at something a thousand miles away, and appears entirely unharmed. I stop short, but it’s too late. He focuses on me. “Cassandra. Come in and shut the door.”

Annoyed with myself for having been worried—and worse, betraying that worry to him—I carefully shut the door behind me and move to sink into the chair across from his desk. Apollo’s office is the very essence of rich-man chic with his oversize dark wood desk, a wall filled with floating shelves containing books and other knickknacks that are worth more than six months’ rent on my shitty apartment, and a single large window that overlooks the street below. We’re only on the third floor, which provides lots of people-watching opportunities; in the blocks around Dodona Tower, people purposefully walk the sidewalks looking to see and be seen.

He sits back with a tired sigh. “You’re aware that Minos and his people now have Olympus citizenship.”

“Kind of hard to miss it.” The gossip sites have gone wild with the news. I’m sure it has to do with them covering the same players and same families since the city was founded. New blood is rare enough, let alone an entire new family to gawk and poke at. The last time that happened was when the Dimitriou family moved into the city proper when their matriarch became Demeter, but even then, they were still Olympians, if country ones.

Minos and his people are decidedly not.

“I’ve been invited to a house party he’s hosting.” Apollo’s full mouth twists. “To celebrate.”

“Sounds like you’re going to have a ton of fun.” The sarcasm flicks off my tongue without my thinking about it. What am I supposed to say, though? He’s Apollo. Part of the job is hobnobbing with powerful assholes and getting close to people he hates because they have information he needs. Information Zeus needs.

He chose to take the title. No one forced it on him. I will not pity him, no matter how miserable he looks right now. He could always say no. He won’t, but he could, which is more than most people in this city can manage if the Thirteen start meddling in their lives.

“I have a favor to ask.”

“No.”

He gives me a long look. “Will you hear me out before telling me no?”

“Let me think.” I glance at the ceiling and then back at him. “No. You have that scheming look about you, and I don’t want any part of it.”

“Cassandra.” There’s a rare edge in his voice. Theseus must have really gotten under his skin. “Hear me out. Please.”

I could walk out. Refuse to hear him out. I could…but I don’t. My second mistake of the day, and one I’ll no doubt come to regret.

He doesn’t wait long to prove me right. “Minos has ulterior motives for being here, but I can’t figure out what they are.”

“I know that.” Apollo has been muttering about it for weeks, ever since Minos’s party showed up and two of them competed for Ares.

“He had bargained with Zeus to trade information for citizenship, but so far everything he’s offered has been too vague to be of use. I’m sure that’s intentional.”

“Probably.” If it’s his only bargaining chip, he’ll want to squeeze out every bit of its worth. It seems foolhardy to want the attention of the Thirteen on you, but what do I know?

“This house party is going to be my best opportunity to find those answers. It will last for a week, which would theoretically give me plenty of time to dig around for evidence. Someone bankrolled his trip here, and if I can find out who it was, we won’t need Minos.”

Apollo is something of a jack-of-all-trades when it comes to information. His title is technically Keeper of the Lore, and he does that by preserving records of Olympus’s history. But he’s also more than a little bit of a spymaster, sourcing information for the Thirteen and his own purposes constantly. Even after working for him for five years, I’m still not entirely sure how he comes by some of the info he finds. But it’s always accurate.

A week in Minos’s house should be more than enough time to get to the bottom of this mystery. I frown. “Why do I sense a but coming?”

“But…” He sighs again. “You’ve worked for me long enough to know my strengths. I am more comfortable with data and archives than I am scrying out people’s motives.”

It’s true. If Apollo has one failing—and I’d hesitate to qualify it as such—it’s that he’s too honest. His brain doesn’t work in the twisty, deceptive ways required to understand the layers beneath layers of plots that play out in this city. He’s not naive; he knows the plots are there—he just can’t divine the shape of them instinctively. “You’ve survived this long. I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

“Cassandra.” He gives a rueful smile that makes my chest ping. “You know better. I’m only as strong as my team, and I won’t be able to have you all there with me. If I can only bring one, I want you.”

I want you.

Not going to think about how those words make me feel. Not even a little bit. “Well, you can’t have me. Ask Hermes. She’s good at this sort of thing.”

“Hermes plays her own games and you know it.” He shakes his head. “And I’m not on her level. I can’t whisk in and out of rooms like magic.”

What Hermes does isn’t magic, though anyone who’s walked into a locked room and found her rooting through their shit might believe otherwise. Most people don’t pause long enough to realize breaking and entering is basically her love language and that she only does it to people she likes, but if I say that, then I have to explain how I would know such a thing, and I’m not about to get into my exes with anyone, let alone Apollo.

“You’re very good at what you do, but no one is on Hermes’s level,” I finally say. “You’ll have to find another way.”

“Agreed. I have another way.” He levels a look at me. “Come with me. Play the part of my date. You see things I don’t, and I need that perspective to successfully navigate this.”

Come with me.

Play my date.

At a house party that will last a week.

My brain skips and I shove to my feet. “No. Absolutely not.” Bad enough that I spend so much time in close proximity with him while we work together. Attending a party like that… We’ll be expected to share the same room. The same bed. He’ll have to touch me. He’s dated a few people in the years since he took his title. The soldier Hyakinthos. The model Coronis. Enough that everyone knows he’s touchy-feely with his partners. Enough that if he wasn’t that way with me, it would raise questions.

I can’t do it.

I won’t.

“You’re out of your fucking mind, Apollo. I can’t believe you’d ask me this.” I’m still talking too sharply, my words filled with blades born of panic. “You know what that would mean for me and what everyone already thinks. You’d prove them right, and I’d have to deal with the consequences.” No one in Olympus believes that I have no interest in power. They look at me and see the sins of my parents.

The bitter irony is that if my parents had just been content with their privilege and power, no one would look sideways at Apollo dating me. We were a legacy family, which meant I would be an acceptable marriage option for one of the Thirteen.

Everyone expects me to try to reclaim what we lost. They’ve been watching me like a bug under a magnifying glass for twelve years, and what Apollo’s asking for means putting myself into the public eye in a way that invites attacks.

Even Hermes knew better than to ask that.

I had thought Apollo understood why I avoid anything resembling the spotlight, at least in theory. He’s the one who offered me this job, who pays me far too much for the work and constantly seems concerned about my welfare. For him to ask me to play sacrificial lamb… It hurts. It has no right to hurt this badly.

“No,” I repeat. “I won’t do it.”

“Okay.” Apollo holds up his hands, looking guilty. “I’m sorry. It seemed the smartest route, and I trust you to be able to hold your own. I understand why you won’t.” His voice goes soft in a way that threatens to make me weak. “Cassandra, I’m sorry. I should have considered the implications.”

I can’t let him be soft to me. If he’s soft, then I’ll go soft, and then I’ll end up agreeing to something against my best interests. It takes far too much effort to straighten my spine and offer him coldness when he’s only given me warmth. “Yeah, you should have thought of it. If that’s all?”

His sigh is nearly soundless. “Yes, that’s all.”

I flee from his office. If only it was so easy to flee from the guilt nipping at my heels.