Page 39 of Invoking Ruin

All of Greece spreading out beneath us.

The only problem is I don’t know which of them to choose.

Nemesis will track me down with the determination of a bloodhound, and by visiting one of the old holy sites, I put myself right in her path.

It's exactly what the Moirai told me to do.

I wanted their attention. But now I have it, I have the terrible fear I made a mistake.

I whirl the chariot around in a circle.

There are more treasures I could drop off, but if Nemesis is having the sacred places watched, my wild goose chase is starting to look more like shooting fish in a barrel. And I’m very much the fish.

I don’t like the odds.

Nemesis is too close, and I’m all too aware of the ticking clock Momus gave me. It’s been almost a full day. Only two left. It shouldn't matter. I have Sandro with me, and I left him in a mess, but I can't shake the foreboding.

Momus likes to criticize, lay blame, seed doubt, but idle threats aren't his style. Especially not ones with such conviction.

I'm almost certain I'll be seeing him at the end of the two days unless we're safely tucked away where he can't find us.

None of them will find us. I won’t let them.

Beside me, Sandro keeps as much distance as he can from me in the small chariot. He leans against the edge, glancing over the side occasionally. Wondering if he’d survive the fall back down, no doubt.

“Where are we going now, Vita?” he asks in a low voice, as though afraid to spook me.

I flinch anyway. “I’m not sure.”

There’s one safe place I can go hide, but if we head there now, with the trail so hot, I might lead them all directly to it.

And then there’s the suddenly wary god beside me to deal with.

What will happen when he remembers who he is?

I don’t want to find out. The idea of his rejection is like plunging the rift knife between my ribs. A cold slice of Void.

My sister’s screams were a terrible testament to that kind of pain.

“Then let’s start with what you do know.” Sandro’s voice cuts through the noise. “Deimos seemed to have a history with you, and it didn’t sound good. What did you do to him?”

I suck on my teeth. Not a happy subject. “I’m not a good goddess. I don’t do nice things.”

Sandro snorts. “You think I don’t know that already? Stop avoiding every question, or you can land here, and I’ll go on my way.”

His gaze is cool, shoulders straight. If he’s bluffing, I can’t tell.

Dionysus was always good at hiding his true feelings. How else did he survive being an Olympian as long as he did?

“I’m the one who’d have to land,” I remind him.

His hand shoots out, and wraps around my throat. It’s not a hard, murderous squeeze, but a collaring. The control between us shifts. I’d been holding onto him for months, but he’d had me beat last night in the shower, and he’s taking over again now.

“You think I can’t control this chariot?” he asks. “You think you can keep me if I don’t want to be kept?”

I swallow. His thumb is swiping lazily back and forth, tracing the hollow of my throat. It’s casual, both affection and threat, and my head swims with the contrast of the two.

“Do you want to be kept?” I ask. He doesn’t. I know him too well for that, but the question hovers in the air, temptation and hope wound together.

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