Page 35 of Invoking Ruin

Another question I shouldn’t answer. Instead, I circle back to his earlier one as I flick the reins to start Pegasus off.

“We’re going to Corinth.”

Chapter nine

Dionysus (Sandro)

I’ve never been to Corinth.

Actually, I’m not sure that’s true. If Vita is telling the truth—a relative term where she’s concerned—then I’ve probably been here many times before, many, many years ago.

The fact that everything I know might be a lie is hard to encompass. I was a mortal man just yesterday, and I never questioned the reality of that existence. But now?

Now all I’m doing is questioning.

And no real answers are forthcoming, not from the goddess who won’t even give me her real name.

The one who doesn’t want me to remember who I am.

Did I do something terrible? Is my history so awful it should be concealed? Possibly. But based on her avoidance, it’s probably Vita’s own history she doesn’t want revealed. That also worries me.

I like this woman. We’ve spent months talking, flirting, getting to know each other, or so I thought.

If those layers of trust we’ve built turn out to be as flimsy as paper, then what does that mean for me? What will I do next? Who can tell me who I really am?

As Corinth reveals itself from behind a veil of clouds, I’m worried I’ll find out sooner rather than later.

The ride here has gone on for many long, bumpy hours. The turbulence and high winds hadn’t lent themselves towards any conversation with my protector—or maybe I should start thinking of her as my captor—but getting the bird’s eye view of Corinth is well worth the hassle.

Corinth rises up from the sea. Its natural harbor acts like a tipped-over bowl, cradling the ancient section of the city. We fly over the modern part of the city, heading straight for the mountain the whole thing is wrapped around. I can’t see much on the slopes, only rocks and dried grasses burning away in the last of the summer’s heat. Then, I spot some ruins, and roads circling the mountain leading up to them. Tourist buses snake along the narrow paths.

There will be crowds here. Vita will have to handle them somehow. My gut churns. Vita’s methods for handling “mortals,” as she calls them, are far from delicate, though not nearly as bloody as Momus’.

If I remember who I am, will I care about mortals? I like to think I would. After all, I’ve spent years amongst them, learned their ways.

But it’s not a guarantee. Nothing is.

Vita directs Pegasus to land on a barren stretch of land away from the tourist trails.

“What are we doing here?” I ask her, not really expecting an answer.

She makes a face as the chariot wheels drag through loose rock and gravel pulling Pegasus to a stop. “Getting the dogs off our scent.”

I blink, absorbing her vague answer. Before I can ask her just how she intends to do that, she kneels down, rummaging around in the chest strapped to the front of the chariot floor. The chest is made of ornate carved wood with gilded hinges. Despite its pristine appearance, it’s obviously ancient, right down to the squeak it makes as she opens it.

After a moment, she draws out a length of rolled silk. Or rather, something wrapped in silk.

I reach out to touch it, but she slaps my hand away.

“Careful. Unless you want to fuck me for the next two days straight,” she tells me, and my eyes go wide.

I must look a fool. Her lips press tight with repressed laughter. Fucking for two days straight doesn’t sound like a terrible idea, though, not after the shower last night. I hadn’t even gotten inside her, and it had been life-changing. What would it be like to claim all of her?

“Tempting,” I quip. “What is it?”

“Aphrodite’s girdle. I stole it… a while ago.”

“Aphrodite.” I force a breath out, hissing between my teeth and rake my hand through my hair. She says the name so casually. Momus, a god I’ve never heard of, is one thing, but any person plucked off the street knows who Aphrodite is. The sheer idea of her looms large in my mind. There are so many stories, and here Vita holds something physical of hers like it’s nothing.

---