Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 107826 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 539(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107826 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 539(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
I close my eyes and inhale deeply. The desire to strike back at Hephaestus after that little altercation is nearly overwhelming, but I haven’t made it to where I am now by acting impulsively. Mostly.
Right now, the only thing that matters is getting through the rest of the reception and then managing to resist the impulse to make myself a widow on my wedding night. Hephaestus is an enemy, but he’s a known one. If Minos thinks he’s getting his way, he will let his guard down. Hopefully.
Worrying about Minos and his plans can wait for tomorrow.
Even knowing that is the smartest course of action, I can’t help searching the faces of the guests gathered in the ballroom. Adonis isn’t here—I know he isn’t—but that doesn’t stop me from looking despite myself.
He won’t have left Olympus; not without me. His life is here. His family and fortune and a whole city’s worth of admirers. He has a way of drawing people to him wherever he goes, his charm and beauty making him the darling of MuseWatch and a good portion of the legacy families. Not enough to help him secure one of the titles of the Thirteen for himself, but Adonis lives a charmed life.
None of that really excuses what I’ve done.
Or the fact that I didn’t talk to him about it first.
I smother the guilt trying to take root in my chest. Adonis knew what he was getting when we started this ill-fated on-again, off-again relationship several years ago. I was a Kasios before I became Aphrodite.
I drain my champagne glass and tuck all the messy emotions away. It doesn’t matter what could have been because this is my reality. I will not give my new husband and his family even an ounce of satisfaction from thinking that I’m heartbroken.
Being heartbroken would require me to have a heart.
I make my way toward the table with the wedding party. It’s slow going because everyone wants to stop the bride and wish me congratulations or use thirty seconds of their time to try to weasel closer to the power Aphrodite holds. My title’s responsibilities include making marriage matches, and arranged marriages are one of Olympus’s favorite ways to consolidate power.
Again and again, my attention is drawn back to the bridal party. They’ve mixed up a bit. My people—Hermes, Eros, and my brother and sister—on one side and Hephaestus’s—the Minotaur, Icarus, Ariadne, and Pandora—on the other. It’s the latter who interests me.
In the brief time I’ve known their cursed household, Pandora seems to be the only one whom my lovely husband does more than tolerate. Even now, he’s leaning over Icarus to speak to her and there’s an actual smile on his face. It’s strange and soft, and it makes me want to grab the nearest piece of silverware and gouge his eyes out.
Instead, I focus on Pandora. She’s a pretty little thing—short and soft with the kind of curves a person can sink their hands into. Smooth light-brown skin and a thick fall of wavy black hair complete the picture. But what really sets her apart is the way she lights up a room when she walks into it. Her laugh fills a space in a way I’ve never experienced before. I added her to my side of the wedding party out of spite because I knew it would bother Hephaestus, but I actually found myself enjoying being around her.
If her attitude is a mask, it’s the best I’ve ever seen.
Hephaestus sees me coming and sits back abruptly, his smile falling away and clouds gathering in his dark eyes. I dislike how attractive he is. Medium-brown skin and dark-red hair that’s actually trimmed properly for this event. His muscular frame marked him as a warrior before his injury, and I have no doubt that even with his injured knee, he can do plenty of damage.
He killed the last Hephaestus, after all.
I slip around the table and take my place at his side. I can do this. I chose this. The reception is all but over, and then all that’s left is to consummate the marriage. After that, I can put the next stage of my plan into motion. For the next hour or two, I simply need to endure. Even knowing it’s coming, the rest of the reception passes in a blur of congratulations.
And then it’s time to see us off.
Hephaestus has only just moved into the penthouse he inherited with the title—likely because his predecessor’s people made the transition difficult—and I have no intention of letting him into my home. As a result, we’ve booked a hotel room for the night.
It was the simplest solution, but I’m regretting the short trip now. The remaining wedding guests line the hall, tossing flowers before us, a perfect blend of red—roses and carnations and poppies. It creates a beautiful stage for us to walk down, holding hands as if we’re a real husband and wife, instead of enemies. Distantly, I note the photographer taking pictures furiously. Helen will go over which to release tonight, and the rest will be sent to me afterward.