If I had known I was in danger, I would have fled to the lower city and taken what protection Hades and Persephone have to offer. It would only be a temporary solution, but at least my life would be extended past tonight. That extra time would have given me the opportunity to think my way out of this mess, preferably without getting my mother involved.
If she finds out that Aphrodite essentially took a hit out on me, she’ll go after the woman with everything in her arsenal. And my mother has many things in her arsenal. She might not have killed the old Zeus herself, but she certainly set up the sequence of events that ended in his death. She’s also the sole reason that his death was ruled an accident instead of murder. She helped pave the way for Hades himself to reenter society. She has some kind of dirt on Poseidon that ensures he backs her at least half of the time. But even with all that power at her disposal, she will throw caution to the wind and might do something truly foolish like trying to run Aphrodite over with her car. Something with no plausible deniability.
If I had known…
But then, it doesn’t matter. Playing what-if is a recipe for disaster. I made a mistake. Just because I didn’t know the cost doesn’t mean I’m exempt from paying it.
Eros is watching me so closely, I almost forget myself and take a sip of the drink that was waiting for me when I got to the table. Knowing what I do now, it’s definitely poisoned, though whether it’s a lethal dose or just something meant to incapacitate is up for debate.
“There might be another way,” he says again, as if reassuring both of us.
After everything he’s said, suddenly he’s offering me an alternate option. Why? Is this another way to torment me? I want to scream in his face, to throw this poisoned drink at him and watch it drip down his perfect features. Maybe I’ll get lucky and it will burn his skin, distracting him long enough for me to run.
I glance around the bar. It’s even dimmer than when I arrived, and people have begun to filter in. This place is as far from the shining streets around Dodona Tower as a person can get and stay in the upper city. It’s also in an area I’m not overly familiar with. It’s entirely possible that all of these people are on Eros’s payroll—Aphrodite’s payroll—and the moment I try to flee, they’ll catch me and haul me back to him.
No, I am out of options and we both know it. I try to swallow down the panic making it difficult to think. “What other way?”
“You’re not going to like it.”
He says it so flatly that I have to laugh. “Right. Because I like the idea of being murdered so much more.”
Finally, he seems to steel himself and says, “Marry me.”
I blink. The two soft words don’t morph into a sentence that makes sense. If anything, the longer they stand between us, the less comprehensible they are. “I’m sorry, I misheard you. I could have sworn you just said ‘marry me.’”
“Because I did.” There’s still no emotion in his eyes, no reaction to indicate what he’s thinking. I’m used to being able to at least pick up something from the people around me. Even the best liars have tells, and I’ve spent enough time drifting through Olympian parties to pick up on most of the major players’ over the years. It’s a matter of survival and I’m very good at it. I know that Ares scratches at his beard when he wants to throttle someone. I know that Perseus—Zeus—gets colder when he’s buying time to respond. Even the last Zeus, while not transparent, got louder and more boisterously happy when he was furious.
Eros gives me nothing.
I catch myself reaching for the drink out of instinct and push the glass to the far side of the table. “That’s not funny.”
“Who’s laughing?” He sighs as if already tired of this conversation. “There are consequences for failing my mother, and I’m not willing to bear them. I can’t walk away without either killing you or marrying you.”
A hysterical giggle escapes, and I grab his drink and down it. Vodka tonic. Of course it is. I shudder. “That’s ridiculous. Why are those the only two options? If you don’t want to kill me, surely there’s something else you can do.”
“There’s not.” When I just stare at him, he rolls his shoulders a little. “Look, if I marry you, that ties me to Demeter as much as it ties you to Aphrodite. She won’t be able to exile me without causing a stir, and if you suddenly turn up dead, there’s no plausible deniability there. If we make it believable, everyone will assume that it’s a love match between two rivals’ children. As the last two weeks have more than proven, the media loves that Romeo and Juliet shit.”