Page 50 of Invoking Ruin

“Liar. You don’t care about royal responsibilities.” I cross my arms over my chest, letting her see what she wants to see: her petulant daughter, with no other motive than to antagonize her.

Some things about Eris can be predictable.

She doesn’t let me down, her lips pulling back in a snarl. “You have no idea what responsibility even means. You’ve been running around, stealing from the gods, playing keep away with the most dangerous weapon ever made. I don’t get to ignore you anymore. The stakes are too high.”

“You could easily ignore me. You just don’t want to disappoint your precious king.”

“You think I like this?” Eris’ voice cracks like a cut lyre string. “I’m a shitty mother. Fine. I won’t pretend otherwise, but that fact isn’t going to save you. We need the knife, Atê, and one way or another, you’re going to give it back.”

She’s given me the opening I need. I fight down a smile as I draw in a breath, summoning every ounce of power I possess. One shot. That’s all I have. Once she realizes what I’ve done, she’ll never fall for it.

“If you hate this so much, then go back to Olympus, Eris. Be a good mother to me one singular time.”

For a moment, it looks like it works. Eris slackens, her shoulders sagging as the hooks of my compulsion sink deep. Her left foot turns away from me, then her right. I hold my breath.

Then Eris shakes herself, tips her head back and laughs.

Chaos.

Bad decisions only go so far when your dominion is strife, which is equally invested in having an unhappy outcome.

Too much similarity, and it all slides off Eris after too long.

“Oh, you are powerful now, aren’t you? Nyx took nearly nothing.” She sounds impressed. The one time in all of existence I’ve impressed her, and it’s with failure.

I grind my teeth.

“Don’t take it so hard.” She chides. “You almost had me.”

“Almost doesn’t mean anything.”

Eris shrugs. “No, but it’s fun anyway.” She tosses her apple into the air, the gold glinting in the dying sun, distracting me.

And that’s all it takes. Not bothering to catch the apple, Eris summons a sword and lunges for me. I dodge but too late, finding myself sprawled out on the stones of the temple’s foundation, sword at my throat.

“Yield, Atê. It’s over.”

It can’t be.

“You’ll never find the knife,” I spit. “Never find him, either.”

Eris snorts. “This old song and dance. You think you can withstand Tartarus? You’ll crack faster than your sister did.”

I want to tell her that I won’t. That I’ll hold out, and she’ll get nothing from me, but I know it’s bravado. It wouldn’t even take long. A month, maybe two, and I’d be climbing the walls, begging to be let out.

“Even if I did tell you everything I know, you’d never let me out.”

Eris shrugs but doesn’t answer me, which is as good as a confirmation. I scuttle backward, my skirt catching on the stone and tearing. Fuck, I really loved this kaftan, and now it’s ruined.

Add it to the list.

Eris follows me, her grip on the sword lazy.

“You don’t want to do this,” I say, desperate enough to try again, even as I can feel the words slipping off her. She’s too wise to my tricks now. “You want to let me go. I’m your child I—”

“Enough, Atê.” Eris is resolute, unbothered by my attempts at manipulation. “You lost. Accept it.”

She flicks the blade, and I hiss as it cuts my throat.

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