Page 30 of Heroines of Olympus

During the conversation, Psyche laces her fingers through Medusa and squeezes gently. Medusa closes her eyes and savors the contact that is dimmed on this plane. Unlike when other people shake her hand and touch her shoulder back in reality, Psyche’s touch never feels like too much. Every time Medusa holds Psyche’s hand, it feels like it is not enough. Medusa looks into the labyrinth of Psyche’s eyes and earnestly looks for any clues that Psyche is enchanted with Medusa as well. Flashes of statues and death fill Medusa’s mind and she looks away abruptly, not waiting for the sting of Psyche doing so first. They lay there in silence, fingers intertwined, until Psyche squeezes Medusa’s fingers and their time in the Oasis ends.

They are back in the lounge, and it has gotten quite late. Psyche says goodbye and Medusa avoids making eye contact, still raw from the emotional trials and inner turmoil. Despite her racing thoughts, Medusa climbs into bed, determined to be well-rested because tomorrow is the day she will meet the Oracle.

18

HESTIA

Looking around thetable at the gathered members of the Pantheon, Hestia wonders how many know how bad things are. Do they know how the mortals are suffering? How many of the gods are complicit in murder and trafficking? Zeus, Aphrodite, Athena, Poseidon, and Ares are wading so deep in corruption it is amazing the Fates themselves have yet to intervene. Hestia has to wonder sometimes if the Fates aren’t just a myth. How can they be real and allow so much evil to thrive? Not interfering with natural orders is one thing- droughts, famines, diseases - but for them to completely ignore the bondage, the abductions, the executions, the children ripped from families to serve the Temples. She can only hope that they are the ones moving the pieces, and that they are using the Allegiance as their sword. Even if they are not, she knows every rebel will do their damnedest to see it done.

She tries to stay focused as Demeter drones on about crop supplies, but she stops paying attention once she hears this year’s harvests have been bountiful. The rest is just background noise to her thoughts as she keeps replaying the injustice of it all.

“Hestia,” Apollo whispers, nudging her arm from the seat to her right and snapping her back to the present.

Everyone is staring at her, and Hestia realizes someone must have asked her a question.

“My apologies,” Hestia says demurely. “My thoughts were wandering away from me. Would you mind repeating?”

Demeter clears her throat, possibly in annoyance, and says, “I asked if I could come by the library this afternoon. My farmers have been looking for new ways to harvest what our earth has to offer and I was wondering if I might browse your agricultural section?”

“Oh, of course, you needn’t even ask,” Hestia replies, wishing she were invisible at this moment as she feels her ears turning red.

The conversation moves on without her as they wrap up the last bits of Pantheon business, say their salutations, and file out of the room. As she nears the door, Hestia notices that Zeus, Athena, and Aphrodite remain seated. They cannot be lingering for any good reason and Hestia hovers just on the other side of the door, straining to hear their conversation. She freezes, breath catching in her throat, when she hears Zeus talk.

His low, raspy voice barely carries to her, “Is everything set for this month’s auction?”

Auction? Hestia’s brows furrow in confusion. Amonthlyauction which sounds like happens regularly is not something she has heard anything about, which is very surprising.

“You know it is. Have we ever not been more than prepared for one of these stupid things? Honestly, they’re so boring,” Athena answers.

“Oh, they are dreadfully dull,” Aphrodite admits, but adds, “The coin they bring in is plenty shiny, though.”

Hestia’s stomach is in knots as she waits to hear what they could auction in secret. This is something she wishes she never needs to know about, but lacks the luxury or privilege of remaining indifferent. Hestia’s heart and soul will never allow her to stand by idly. Especially when hope is on the horizon in the form of the Allegiance.

“As you know, this month’s event is at my Temple and, as it’s the Temple of Love, this batch of nymphs will serve the role of sexual servitude,” Aphrodite continues.

“I love it when it’s your turn to host Zeus. When that rolls around, I’m generally in need of a new chamber servant, having typically disposed of the last already. Practically useless things,” Athena laughs.

Nymphs? Hestia’s stomach churns, and she fights to keep the contents where they belong. As she runs through what she just heard, her head spins. It is heartbreaking to think of the beautiful nymphs bound to slavery in secret. How far does the corruption run for there to be enough buyers for an auction?

Nymphs are rarely seen in developed areas, since they prefer the peace that comes from living in nature, connected to the elements they are bonded with. There have been rumors of nymphs being forced into chains, but those rumors are always rapidly hushed. The Pantheon has loudly denounced and decried the prospect of that kind of trafficking, yet they themselves are the ones perpetuating it.

Hestia tries to remain calm, expression neutral, lest anyone come down the hallway and see her as she gathers as many details as possible, tears rimming the edges of her eyes.

“How do we know that stupid group of rebels won’t interfere?” Athena asks.

“My contact tells me they are unaware of the auctions still,” Zeus answers. “He won’t give me their location yet, but he’s there with them.”

Hestia stops breathing.No.

A gentle nudge on her elbow startles Hestia, and she has to stifle a gasp.

Spinning around, Dionysus is there with a finger to his lips, and pulls her into an alcove as the sound of footsteps close in. They duck behind a large urn, dropping out of sight as Poseidon and Ares round the corner of the hallway and go into the room, rejoining Zeus, Aphrodite, and Athena.

“I’m glad I was the one to find you snooping, and not one of those three.” Dionysus says, jutting his chin toward the door.

“I wasn’t snooping.” Hestia huffs defensively.

“Don’t bother, it’s ok. We all have our reasons for what we do.” He gives her a pointed look, and she wonders again if there is more to Dionysus than meets the eye.

---