Page 55 of Invoking Ruin

And only the night before, my body remembers her wet and whimpering against me as I rutted her like she was my private toy.

I tighten my grip on her, letting her feel my reaction. Let her wonder. Let her want.

If I’m going to suffer, it should be so that she can suffer more.

“You promised me answers, Vita,” I say into her ear, close enough that the air whipping around us doesn’t steal away the words.

“I know.”

“So maybe try to actually answer a question?”

She huffs, and with the chariot hurdling us forward, the only way I can tell is from the short rise of her shoulders with the motion. “It’s better to show you. The words won’t have the same meaning.”

Right, because she thinks I’m just some mortal shell of myself who can’t understand. I force myself not to react with any pride, just to nod.

Sandro was nearing the end of his patience, too, afraid of the darkness he’d found himself in.

I have time, and I can wait.

The sun is long gone and the moon dips towards the horizon by time Pegasus starts to descend out of the sky.

The ride has mostly been silent. I’ve kept close to her, making sure she can’t be at ease, tempting her with wondering, wanting, but otherwise I haven’t pressed her for answers through the night.

I’ve decided to wait for us to be on solid land before I start unraveling her. Better for her to be as on edge as I can make her.

At some point, the lights of cities below have disappeared. They’re replaced by nothing but inky black seas punctured occasionally by a ship. A tiny blip of brightness, easily swallowed up.

Wherever we’re going, it’s farther than we’ve traveled before. The sea journey lasts for what feels like eons before giving way to the dunes and rocky outcroppings of the northern tip of Africa. Cities brighten the landscape once more, but we pass them by.

Until finally, dawn blooms behind us, and Pegasus lowers us into a garden.

It’s a lavish, lush sprawl of flowers, fields of grass, and beautiful pavilions to keep out the sun and the rain. Trees line the paths, with hedges and bushes full of flowers and fruits for the taking. There are pools full of bright, colorful fish and water lilies. Birds call to one another as they wake for the day.

From the ground, the garden seems to stretch on forever, no end in sight. From the air, it had appeared as nothing more than a bubble, a dew drop on the sands.

It’s perfection. The air is cooler here than it was above, just humid enough from the plants and pools for a perfect climate.

There’s only one flaw: an orchard that must have once been full of greenery and fruit is all scorched black. Twisting, empty branches reach toward the sky, as though asking the heavens who cursed them.

I know this place, though I’ve never actually been here. But it can’t be. She wouldn’t bring me here, of all places. It’s madness.

“Where are we?” I ask Atê as she unhitches Pegasus from the chariot and leads him over to an apple tree.

“The garden of the Hesperides.” She plucks an apple to feed the horse, who gobbles it up before sniffing her for more. She gives Pegasus the first smile I’ve seen from her in more than twenty-four hours.

I’m not nearly so at peace as the animal is. Hera’s garden. I’d never visited this place, because Hera loathed my very existence. She’d never have let me into her sanctuary. Being here now makes me uneasy, as though I expect her to come out from behind the bushes and strike me down for daring to breathe this air.

“I don’t know what that means,” I force myself to say. After all, I’m meant to be ignorant. The dread crawling up my throat is nothing Sandro would feel. That all belongs to me.

Atê, fortunately, hasn’t noticed my unease, too busy settling Pegasus with more treats. “It was Hera’s garden. Zeus gifted it to her on their wedding. I used to work for her, so I knew of the place.”

She leads Pegasus over to the grass and grabs a leather satchel hanging from a branch. From it, she takes a brush and starts to groom the horse. On any other goddess, it’d be sweet and charming, the care she takes with him.

With Atê, well… it might still be sweet, as much as I hate to admit it.

“Hera doesn’t know you’ve holed yourself up here?” I ask.

Atê glances at me before shaking her head. “Hera is dead. Has been for centuries now.”

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