Page 18 of Sweet Obsession

Ares looks like she wants to fight with her brother but finally nods. “I’ll see it done.” She rises, and she and Athena leave the room together, shoulder to shoulder. They’ll be getting in contact with me later for the sentry schedule apparently. I look around the room, but there’s no peace to be had. Artemis glares at Zeus as if she’d like nothing more than to just shove him through a window. Aphrodite and Hephaestus speak in low voices. Dionysus appears to be taking a nap.

I guess the meeting is over. I haven’t formed much of an opinion on our new Hephaestus—aside from xe being more capable than Theseus was in the position—but xe was right. There had to be a more efficient way of communication that didn’t require all of us to travel to Dodona Tower.

My gaze catches on hazel eyes and stops there. Hera jerks her chin slightly, a clear command. I rise and walk out of the room, taking the elevator down one floor to where her offices are. From what I hear, she doesn’t spend much time in them, preferring the orphanage she’s recently renovated, but the door unlocks under my hand. I don’t have to wait long for her to arrive.

“The evacuations aren’t enough. You have to know that.”

I nod slowly, but can’t help pointing out, “We’d be doing more than evacuating civilians if you’d voted in favor of war.” I’d like to believe that getting the people out of the city is enough, that we might have a way to be victorious if we aren’t worried about civilian casualties, but the longer this goes on, the more I wonder. Circe has outmaneuvered us at every available opportunity. I can’t imaginethat now that we’re in new territory, with Olympus facing a threat from outside our walls for the first time in the city’s history, we’ll suddenly turn the tables on her. It’s possible Icarus has information that might undermine her, but it’s even more likely that we’re past the point when information will actually matter.

We’re about to have a fight on our hands.

And we can’t even get organized enough tovoteon meeting that fight head-on. Circe will be at our gates—if wehadgates—and the Thirteen will still be squabbling.

Hera moves to the window and peers out before lowering the blinds. “I spoke to Circe. She wasn’t willing to discuss terms over the phone, but she will in person. Tonight.”

I knew she intended to call, but somehow hearing it makes everything so much more real. I’m already shaking my head before she finishes speaking. “No. Absolutely not. It’s a trap, and if she gets her hands on you—and the babe in your belly—then she has all she needs to bring Zeus and the rest of the city to its knees once and for all. You can’t do this.”

“I’m not doing it alone. You’re coming with me. We’re going to take a small boat out halfway between the ships and the shore. She’ll come with only one person as escort. It’s a peace talk, Poseidon. It’s possible she wants something we’re willing to give up. We won’t know until we actuallytalkto her—and that’s exactly what I intend to do.”

I can’t tell if she’s right or if she’s leading us down a road of pure destruction. Hera hates Zeus. I’m nearly certain that she hates this city as well, with the exception of her family and a few select others. What she may be willing to give up in order for Circe to spare theones she loves is not the same thing as what I or any of the other Thirteen would be willing to give up.

I have a feeling if I tell her no, she’ll just find a way to do it herself, and then there will be no witnesses to whateverthatconversation entails. I have to go. And I have to ensure she walks out of that meeting alive and unharmed.Damn it.

I sigh. “When?”

“Midnight. There’s not much of a moon, so we should have plenty of privacy.”

Plenty of privacy for Circe to murder us. I don’t say it. Hera isn’t a complete fool, for all that she’s deeply motivated by rage. She knows the risks, and she’s decided they’re worthwhile. So be it. It’s not as if I have another choice or even a better plan. It’s even possible that I’m wrong and what Circe wants is something that I’ll be all too happy to give up.

And maybe, someday, pigs will fly. It’s about as likely.

11

Icarus

Poseidon has been gone for hours. At one point, around two in the morning, I checked the hallway to see if there was a possibility of escape, and there he was, his big body sprawled out across the open space. Protecting me? Ensuring I didn’t flee? Impossible to say. All I know is that I slept soundly from that moment on, waking in the late morning to find my door still unlocked and the hallway unguarded.

I won’t secure my safety if I keep hiding in my room. It’s time to take the offensive.

I’m waiting for Poseidon the moment he walks through the front door. He looks tired, his head low and his shoulders bowed. That ceases the moment he sees me. He narrows his eyes and stops short. “What are you doing down here? You should be in bed.”

“I’m feeling much better. Or at least better enough to get restless.”

He remains unconvinced. He looks around as if expecting one of his people to pop out of the woodwork. There’s no one around. There hasn’t been all day. I am not entirely certain that I couldn’t have walked right out the front door and taken my chances in the city itself. I was tempted to try, but the reality of the situation is thatI have very few resources currently—and no exit out of the city. I’m trapped as much as the rest of the Olympians, and that means I need someone to protect me.

Someone powerful…like Poseidon.

It seemed a reckless concept last night, but I’ve had plenty of time to think about it. He’s my best shot. I just need him invested enough in my safety to step between me and any threat that arises. The best way to dothatis to bring feelings into the mix. Starting now.

I smile in the face of his unease and spread my arms. “I was thinking we could share another meal.”

Instead of appearing charmed, he just seems more suspicious. “Where’s your shirt?”

“Some overzealous person decided to stab me a bunch of times through it. I hardly had a suitcase when you hauled me out of the bay. I don’t have any other clothes.”

“You were wearing a shirt last night.”

“Was I?” I shrug. “It got blood on it.” It’s, strictly speaking, the truth. My cuts are mostly scabbed over, but one of them bled a little while I slept.

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