Page 19 of Heroines of Olympus

The Tartarus Allegiance

lest I commit my fate

to eternal suffering”

Medusa repeats the oath as the wind continues to swirl around them. The gusts pick up speed and she fears the oath failed. She is about to ask Psyche in a panic when the gale dies down. The stars streak across the sky in the most dazzling display, the night lighting up as if it is bejeweled.

When Medusa looks back down, she sees bioluminescent fireflies dancing around them. All Medusa can think to say when she looks at Psyche is, “So… I’m guessing it worked?”

“Yes, it did, and well. My magic believes your soul is to be trusted, and my magic doesn’t let me down often.”

Medusa blinks and is back in the small ship cabin, sitting across the bed from Psyche, with Alec now back in the room, sitting in the chair.

He asks, “It’s done then?”

“Yes,” is Psyche’s reply.

“The Tartarus Allegiance? So when you say eternal damnation youreallymean it, don’t you?” Medusa inquires, appreciating the directness of the name. Every utterance amongst themselves about it surely reminds them all of what will happen if they betray what they have built.

Alec stands up, leans over to give Medusa a hug, then pauses and asks, “Would it be ok if I hugged you?”

Medusa winces at the thought of the contact, but also craves it, and nods with a weak smile. He wraps his arms around her and she again fights tears. Such a small acknowledgment of a boundary should not be so moving, but after a life at the temple followed by one of isolation, how does she handle such gentle consideration? The only person who ever respected her boundaries had been Nikolas, and even then, it was only when the restrictions of the Temple life would allow. If his job as a Pantheon Guard required him to discipline her, he did so even if it warred with his conscience.

They settle into their seats as Alec begins, “Tartarus Allegiance, as you now know we are called, has been around for about twenty years, but only in the last five years has it really gained momentum and expanded to what it is now. You know firsthand of the atrocities the Pantheon is capable of, but I doubt you know the full extent.”

“I’m eager to learn more about the Allegiance, but what can you tell me about my family? My parents?”

At that, Alec looks a little defeated and Psyche answers, “The Allegiance has an Oracle. The Pantheon doesn’t know of her existence, which is why we couldn’t mention her before you had been oathed. She demanded that we refrain from answering too many questions pertaining to your personal history. I hate to withhold information from you still, Lyra, but as you are well aware, if an oracle is insistent about something, it’s best to listen to them.”

“I suppose,” Medusa can feel weariness taking over, her head swimming with so much information that just leads the way to more questions. “So, how do we get to this oracle?”

Alec continues, “The Allegiance established itself on the Isle of Mysts, far from the watchful eyes of Olympus and the other temples.”

Medusa’s eyes widen. “But the Isle of Mysts is an old legend. There’s no record of it anywhere in the Temple Library.”

“It’s real,” Alec says. “We’re headed there now.”

11

APHRODITE

Aphrodite slams the doors to her chambers closed. She is fuming, mostly at herself for being so careless. Hestia almost caught her leaving the library. There is no doubt that nosy bitch would have come sniffing around, wanting to know why Aphrodite was in her precious domain.

She rolls her eyes in annoyance at her long-time rival. Being the Keeper of Knowledge does not mean she is entitled to know what Aphrodite had been researching. It still stings, whether or not she will admit it, that Hestia denied her access to the restricted section. Aphrodite’s status should allow her free access to anything in that dusty old sanctum of boredom.

Oh well, Aphrodite has to get more creative about her snooping, slipping in when she knows Hestia will be away for a while.

She walks over to the vanity and sits down, absentmindedly caressing the smooth stone of it. The dark marble is beautiful, to be sure, but she misses the softness of her preferred decor in her own temple. She spends so much time here at the Olympic Temple, though, that this one feels almost as familiar to her.

A rolled piece of parchment with a wax seal catches her eye. Who would have the nerve to enter her personal chambers?

The emblem on the seal sends a wave of frost all the way to her toes. The three crossroads symbol set into the red wax. Oedipus. Realizing he had been in her personal space, she shudders. Tossing the letter to the side, she tries to think of something else. She will have a talk with her guards tomorrow about allowing this intrusion.

The moonlight streaming in the window highlights the sharpness of her cheekbones and bounces off her light blonde hair, making it almost glow. She has to chuckle at the near celestial look it gives her, so innocent and saintly. She is pretty sure the Fates themselves would shudder in horror over many of the things she has done - some simply because they were fun.

Not to be free and liberal with sex is difficult when you are the God of Love. Everything about her is designed to lure a person into their most forbidden desires. Her soft lips are always pursed into a delicious pout, her small breasts always perky and enticing, a narrow waist that gives way to softly curving hips. Even her voice is silky and sweet, drawing one in as if she is part siren.

If Aphrodite allows herself, she can still too keenly feel the overwhelming pain that comes with each new phase of grief. So she refuses to let herself feel the heart-shattering pain of the loss ofher, the hopefulness and optimism of remembering her curse, that she would come back to Aphrodite - possibly in a few years, but she could be patient. She could wait - forher.

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