Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 83786 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83786 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
I want to argue, but I would just be doing it for the sake of arguing. “Say I agree with you, which I don’t know if I do… What do you expect me to do?”
“It’s time for a new order of things. A different structure of government. The Thirteen can no longer rule Olympus.”
This time, when I lunge at her, Atalanta’s not close enough to stop me. It’s not until I have my switchblade to Hermes’s throat that I realize she let me get close…and that she has her own knife pressed to my stomach. She’s still and relaxed as she smiles. “Fast, but not quite fast enough.”
I am so damned tired of everyone in the room thinking they are the smartest motherfucker to exist. I glare down at her. “You’re working with Circe.”
“I’m not.”
Lies, lies, and more lies. My hand’s shaking so hard I have to choose between moving back or cutting her. I move back. Barely. “You want the same thing she wants. You’re working to bring down the Thirteen, just like she is. Stop fucking lying to me.”
“I’m not lying.” She speaks slowly and calmly, inching her knife away from my stomach. “Wanting the Thirteen to no longer be in power isn’t the same as wanting to annihilate them, no matter how much some of them deserve it.”
None of this makes any sense. I shove away from her. We all know I’m not going to stab her now, and continuing to posture like this only makes me look weak. Weaker. Fuck. This whole situation is fucked. “You’re arguing semantics. I don’t have time for this.”
My family’s lives hang in the balance. Maybe Hermes doesn’t want them dead the way Circe does, but her plan will end with the same result. “You have to know there isn’t a single member of the Thirteen who will step down unless they’re forced to. If you’re not working with Circe and you’re not willing to kill them, then you’re going to fail. You’ve already failed if you’re still trying to reason with Zeus.”
In the front seat, Atalanta snorts, but it’s Hermes who answers. “You’d be surprised what people will agree to if they’re desperate enough. But you’re right, I have no desire to murder my way through the Thirteen and the legacy families in order to raze this power structure. It would take a lot of time and effort, and you never really get blood out from beneath your cuticles.” She makes a show of examining her nails, painted a bright neon yellow. “Which is where you come in. If you can convince Zeus to step down and ensure that none of his siblings move up to take his place, that will send a message the others will heed. This city is full of sheep who think they’re wolves. They just need one to take the plunge first, and it has to be a legacy title.”
The laugh that bursts from my lips contains an edge of hysteria. No matter how different Hermes claims she is, she and Circe are obviously moving along the same wavelength. “From the moment he gained sentience, my husband was trained by an abusive monster to take the title Zeus. He won’t hand it over until he’s dead. There’s nothing that I—or anyone else—can say to change that truth.”
“Then he’ll die.” Hermes doesn’t say it like it brings her joy, more like it’s an unfortunate side effect of a problem outside of her control. “You’ve seen how the Thirteen abuse their power, even if you’ve been relatively protected by virtue of your mother’s power. How many times have you looked around at the legacy families and felt nothing but loathing? For all that you’re part of them, you’re separate enough to see how toxic their excess is. Your mother is aware of it. She might be one of the most excessive of them all, but at least she cares about the greater population. The same cannot be said for the rest of them.”
“You are part of the Thirteen. Don’t act like you’re better. You’ve been enjoying those excesses for a very long time, Hermes.”
“I have my reasons. I always have. We can argue about that, or you can acknowledge that you’re against the wall and you don’t have a choice. Because you’re one of the Thirteen too, Hera.” She flicks her wrist, pointing her knife at my stomach again. “And you don’t get to extract yourself with divorce or your husband’s death, either. Not when you carry the next Zeus.”
It takes everything I have not to press my hand to my stomach, as if that would protect my little parasite from danger. I lift my chin. “Conjecture. I’ll talk to Zeus for my own reasons, but I’m telling you now, it won’t work.”
“We’ll see.” She nods at Atalanta. “This is far enough.”