Page 39 of Aïdes the Unseen
“Heartsong—”
She met my gaze.
“I’ll go, beloved,” she said again. “Because if I do not speak for myself, they’ll try to speakoverme.”
Her voice held the weight of frost and flame. Not defiance.
Authority.
She wasn’t walking into Olympus to be taken back. She was walking in totake her place.The gods had no idea what was coming.
Olympus never changed.
It reeked of power too long stagnant, of gold piled like rot, of laughter that broke like brittle bone when examined too closely. The air was thick with ambrosia and arrogance. They built palaces here, high above the world they forgot to tend. Yet when it burned, they demandedanswers.
They could never have expectedherto come wearing a crown of shadow and a mouth full of spring.
We stepped onto the marble causeway carved from cloud and stone, and the whole of the court turned as one. Even here, in the highest seat of heaven, she drew the sun.
Olympus itself welcomed her, whispering her name, but she did not answer to Kore. Not anymore. She stood not behind me, not beneath me, but beside me.
I, who had ruled unseen since time began, remained awed by the gravity she carried in that moment.
Zeus surged from his throne like a wave made of stormcloud and wounded pride.
“Aïdes,” he thundered, robes crackling with false sky. “Return the girl and let us put this madness to rest.”
Beside him, Poseidon grunted, trident in hand. “The earth is dying. Is that not enough for your cold heart, brother? Must all the seas freeze before you see reason?”
I did not flinch.
“Firstly,” I said, voice level as the stone beneath the world, “you do not command me. We are equals. You’ve worn your title so long, you’ve mistaken it for divinity.”
Zeus’ nostrils flared, but I pressed on.
“Secondly…” I turned my head, just slightly, to her. “My queen is not something to bereturned. She is not athingat all.”
She met my eyes and smiled. It undid me all over again.
Still, I continued, “She goes where she chooses. And I—” I stepped forward, letting the weight of my vow fill the golden hall. “—I will always choose her.”
That was when the goddesses descended.
“This is folly.” Athena, sharp-eyed and steel-voiced, emerged from behind her father’s throne. “You speak of love like it outweighs wisdom. Do you not see the cost? The world shudders beneath your passion.”
Artemis folded her arms, brows knit. “Passion, perhaps,” she said coolly. “But I see no chains. I see a woman who walked into the dark on her own terms.” A nod. “That, at least, is something sacred.”
“She allowed herself to besoiled,” Athena said flatly. “She has abandoned her nature.”
My heart, unshaken, tilted her head. “Or perhaps I’vefulfilledit.”
That drew a ripple through the court.Hera—silent and severe on her high throne—lifted her eyes. Yet it was Aphrodite who finally stepped forward, hips swaying, mouth curled in a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.
“Well,” she purred, “I must say… you wear devotiondeliciously, dear.” A pause. “Even Ares can’t stop looking at you.” She turned her head, golden curls catching the firelight. “Isn’t that right, my love?”
Ares, still leaning in the shadows like a lion denied its pounce, offered no denial. His eyes burned.
But my queen…she did not look away.
