Page 32 of The Trickster's Heart

Hermes had grown used to mortals and immortals alike only associating with him behind closed doors or under the cover of darkness, lest their enemies read their messages or learn their tricks.

Hermes knew he was probably staring, but he couldn’t keep the giddy smile off his face as he watched Hercules—if Hermes could have conjured them in Eurystheus’s throne room in a flash, Hercules didn’t need to know. Hermes was choosing the slower pace for once and enjoying each second.

The winds shifted as the air turned sweet, the scent of lilacs dancing on the breeze. The grass grew softer, and even the sun seemed a little brighter. The shift was subtle, but it was there, and Hercules caught it.

“Are we close?”

“Not yet.” Hermes shook his head. “This is Elysium.”

“Ah, land of heroes, is it?” Hercules puffed out his chest and looked around. “Not too shabby.”

Hermes rolled his eyes playfully. “You won’t need to worry about this place if you become immortal. Remember?”

“Just making sure that everyone understands where I would go if—”

“Hercules of Thebes!” A loud, sharp yell interrupted them.

Hermes turned around and identified the sound of the voice, his whole body tensing in recognition. It was as though a storm cloud appeared over Hermes’s face, his entire countenance darkening. A human man stepped out from behind a tree ahead of them, crossing his arms over a broad chest. The stranger was almost as tall as Hercules, with dark hair that had a laurel wreath sitting atop it.

Pretentious bastard, Hermes hissed in his mind.

“Perseus,” Hermes growled, instinctively taking a step in front of Hercules. “What do you want?”

“Perseus?” Hercules echoed quietly, his eyes wide as he stepped closer to Hermes, whispering in his ear. “That’s Perseus?”

“Yes,” Hermes grunted. “Let me do the talking.” Hermes could see Hercules was confused, but blessedly, he nodded without question.

Perseus approached them with a sauntering gait that made Hermes want to punch him in the face; even the way that Perseus walked was entitled.

“Surely, Hermes, you wouldn’t deprive me of the opportunity to meet my kin,” Perseus challenged as he stopped in front of them, staring at Hercules.

Hermes reached for Hercules and pushed the hero behind him. Cerberus picked up on the fact that Hermes was displeased and growled in Perseus’s direction, who remained unfazed.

“You don’t have anything to say to each other,” Hermes insisted, but Perseus took another step closer. Hermes could feel the tension radiating off Hercules, and he realized Hercules must have finally picked up on why Perseus was trouble.

“He’s a son of Zeus, is he not? Why would I not have anything to say to my brother?” Perseus cracked his knuckles. “The rumors of his exploits these past ten years have been circulating around the Underworld. They say he will go down in history as an even greater hero than me, perhaps the best.”

“He is the best,” Hermes snapped, his anger reaching a breaking point as the scepter appeared in his hand. “What did you do? Assault women? Get out of our way. You know as well as I do that Hades is just looking for an excuse to send your ass to Tartarus, where it belongs.”

Perseus walked closer, and a small shockwave burst out of Hermes, causing Perseus to stumble. He quickly righted himself and hissed, throwing himself at Hercules. Hermes stood in between them, gripping Perseus’s collar as Perseus screamed over his shoulder at Hercules.

“What did Zeus give you that he didn’t give me?” Perseus pushed, his demeanor slipping rapidly into madness. Hercules’s lip curled as he got in Perseus’s face, matching him in tone.

“He didn’t give me anything,” Hercules growled, his voice steady but full of rage. “I worked for it, Perseus. I fucking worked for it, and I have been working for it for years!”

“That’s not possible!” Perseus shouted, pushing against Hermes, who was trying to shove Perseus off. “There’s no way you’re greater than me! He gave you something, some gifts, your strength, I know it!”

“Look at me!” Hercules screamed, taking a step backward and holding his arms out. “I’m a mortal man, Perseus, and the gods had nothing to fucking do with it! Do you think I’d ever be descended from the likes of you?”

Perseus went silent. Hermes hissed out a slew of curses, turning to look at Hercules with a pleading expression.

“What?” Hercules’s face twisted in confusion as he looked from Hermes to Perseus. Perseus, on the other hand, slowly started to smile as he wiped the sweat off his brow.

“You’re no son of Zeus.” Perseus grinned maniacally. “You’d be a demigod if you were.”

“Fuck,” Hermes sighed, pinching his brow with one hand. Hercules stood behind him, too stunned to move, grappling with the fact that he had outed himself—after ten years.

“Don’t say anything, Perseus,” Hermes hissed, but Perseus was shaking his head.

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