Page 72 of Sweet Obsession

“You’re notjustanything,” I cut in gently. “But I understand better than anyone the burden I’m asking you to take up, especially considering our current circumstances. I won’t abandon you in the midst of this conflict—have no fear of that—but after…”

Pallas favors her late mother more than her father. She’s a slight woman with light-brown skin and long, straight black hair. She’s been spared the blue eyes that plague our line as well. She sits perfectly still, her spine straight and her gaze a little too direct to be perfectly comfortable. “My father never would have agreed to this.”

There’s no point in arguing that. She’s right. “I know. But it’s not his decision. It’s yours.”

She swallows visibly. “I…” Pallas pauses and shakes her head sharply. “I want it. Not just because you’ve served for so long and deserve your own happiness. I want the chance to prove myself. To…well, to do it all.”

I focus on Orion and Polyphemus. “You have thoughts. Let’s hear them.”

Polyphemus speaks first, his words practically tripping over each other as they leave his mouth. “You’re going to throw it all away forhim? You’ve known him a couple of days, and he’s the enemy!”

“I’m not throwing anything away.” It’s so strange that the longer I sit with this plan, the calmer I feel. “I’m passing on a burden I’ve been carrying most of my life. One I never would have chosen for myself. I think I’ve earned that, don’t you?”

Polyphemus sputters, but Orion nods. “He’s right, Po.” They turn to Pallas. “Treat us fairly and we’ll support you unquestionably.”

She blushes prettily. “I don’t expect unquestionable support. There’s plenty I won’t know, even after Poseidon, uh, vacates the title.” Her voice firms the longer she speaks. “I will value any and all of your input for as long as you’re willing to give it.”

She’s going to be fine.

The realization washes over me, bringing a tide of exhaustion inits wake. We’ve done so much, and yet there’s still so much left to do. The threat of Circe has never been greater, and we don’t even know where she is. Zeus and Hera’s war might be even more dangerous to Olympus as a whole. There’s mess wherever I look, and it’s a tangled knot of one disaster after another.

And yet…

Hope has taken up residence in my chest, and there’s no dimming it. As Pallas keeps talking with my people, I shift to look out the window to the east. The ocean is hidden from view, but the promise remains, beating in time with my heart.

Three months. Wait for me, Icarus. I’m coming to you. I promise.

37

Icarus

Four and a half months later

Every morning for the last six weeks, I’ve gone through the same ritual. I make myself a cup of coffee and walk down to the beach on the west side of the property. It’s a spot where Ariadne and I used to play when we were young, pretending to be literal royalty and believing that all we needed to be happy was to wish hard enough.

These past months have proved that wishes aren’t worth the breath required to voice them. If I want something to change, I have towork. It’s all I’ve done for four and a half months. The battle for Aeaea won’t be over anytime soon, but I’ve made good progress from my new seat among the council.

The older members aren’t happy, but I have more than enough information about their less-than-pure habits to keep them on the straight and narrow.

I don’t know why I’m surprised that I’m good at politics. Maybe I shouldn’t be surprised, considering how I was raised.

When I got back to the island with the saved crew in tow, one of the first things I did was get a new phone. I’ve listened to my sister’s voicemail dozens of times in the intervening months, but aside fromtexting her to say that I’m safe and I’ll be in contact soon, I haven’t talked to her.

If I answered her calls, I’d have to tell her what happened after she sailed away. Maybe she’d understand what I feel for Poseidon, maybe she’d even support me in my foolish belief that he’ll really come for me, but…maybe she won’t.

Thatmaybeis one too many. I’m already teetering on the edge of a sorrow so deep, I don’t know how I’ll survive it. And the promise of it only gets more harrowing with every day that passes without seeing black sails on the horizon.

That doesn’t stop me from showing up every morning and evening like clockwork. I refuse to admit that the steady whoosh of the waves reaching the shore soothes me. Or that the crisp sea air makes me alert. Or that, possibly, I would enjoy this ritual if it didn’t always end in disappointment.

I haven’t had any contact from Poseidon, but how would I? It’s not as if we exchanged phone numbers. I’ve followed the news coming out of Olympus closely, and to the best of my knowledge he survived everything that followed my leaving…but he still hasn’t come.

He could have changed his mind. No matter what promises we exchanged, I should know better than most that emotion blossoming in traumatic times isn’t trustworthy. And yet I continue to wait. Tohope, the sensation so fierce that some days it feels more like agony.

So fiercely that, when I notice irregular black in the distance, I almost convince myself that it’s some fisherman bringing in the morning’s catch. Even though this ship is far outside the primefishing waters and obviously coming from the mainland.

That doesn’t mean it’s him.

It might not be. It likely isn’t. It couldn’t possibly be…

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