Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 89763 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 449(@200wpm)___ 359(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89763 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 449(@200wpm)___ 359(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
I walk away without answering. What is there to say? These days, every time I close my eyes, only nightmares await me. Tonight won’t be any different.
I step into the room and stare. There are two familiar suitcases sitting next to the bed. But that’s impossible. I fled my father’s apartment with only a backpack full of necessities, and he’s more likely to burn every single thing I own than he is to pack a suitcase for me. I love my brother, but I doubt it would occur to him to do it, either. And Asterion…
I really have to stop thinking about Asterion.
I’m feeling too fragile to go back out and ask Dionysus about them. If he did this as a nice gesture, it is nice, but it only leaves me more off-center. This whole thing feels too good to be true, which means it’s a trap. It has to be.
When I move closer, I see a small envelope tucked into the handle of the tallest suitcase. Inside is a bright-green note. My eyebrows climb as I read the careless scrawl.
You’ve performed your role beautifully. Such things deserve a reward, don’t you think?
Cheers!
—H
H can only be Hermes, but… “What the fuck is she talking about?” The only role I’ve acted out is that of traitorous daughter. Hermes might play at being magical, but she’s just a human. There’s no way she could have anticipated my ending up here. I certainly didn’t.
Before I can talk myself out of it, I grab the phone Hera provided and dial my brother. I owe him an apology, but maybe I can get some information when I’m doing a bit of groveling for his forgiveness.
He answers immediately. “Hello?”
“Icarus.” My throat tries to close, but I push past it. “It’s me.”
“Ari. Thank fuck you’re okay.” His voice goes tight. “I am so mad at you.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“You should have told me you were going. I would have—”
I cut him off before he can lie to himself and me. “No, you wouldn’t have. I don’t doubt for a second you would have tried to help me, but you’re still too tied up in him. You would have faltered, and I couldn’t risk it.”
He curses. “You don’t have much faith in me.”
I know how much that hurts him. I would spare him that if I could, but my brother’s feelings ultimately matter less than ensuring I didn’t have anything standing in the way of doing what needed to be done. There’s no point in secrecy now, though. It’s finished. “I was pregnant.”
“You were…” His voice trails off, and silence descends. I wait him out. My father might call my brother a fool, but he’s not. He is reckless and wild, but he grew up in the same household I did. He’s more than capable of following things to their logical conclusions. “You should have told me,” he finally says. “I wouldn’t have sacrificed you for our father’s ambitions, Ari. I’m not so desperate for his approval to stoop so low.”
“I know,” I say gently. “But this isn’t our city, and I needed to make sure no one knew I was pregnant before it was taken care of. If we went somewhere in the upper city, Father would have heard about it. He might have even stopped me.”
Icarus curses again, but softer this time. “I should have been there for you. You shouldn’t have had to go through that alone.”
This is the part of my brother that my father can never exorcise. At his core, Icarus is a good man who just wants what’s best for those around him. My heart wobbles in my chest, and I have to sit on the edge of the bed to steady myself. “It wasn’t as bad as all that.” Mostly. In some ways, it was worse. I spent a day or two in a small apartment in the lower city with Medusa and Calypso, who were kind enough in their own way, but the distance between us was clear. They didn’t treat me as an enemy to be destroyed, but their warmth was only surface level. I don’t blame them for that.
At least I wasn’t alone.
“Ari.”
I sigh. “Okay, at some point, I’m going to have a very long and intense cry over it. Not with regret, but just… It’s a lot.”
He’s silent for several long moments. “It was his, wasn’t it?”
No point in pretending I don’t know who he’s talking about. I’ve never spoken aloud about my fascination with Asterion, but Icarus is too smart not to pick up on things. He’s made comments over the years, but they’ve been lightly teasing, invitations to confide in him that I’ve never taken him up on. Talking about my feelings threatened to make them real in a way I couldn’t take back.
Joke’s on me. What happened in the maze isn’t something I can ever take back. In my heart of hearts, I don’t know if I want to take it back. How unforgivably selfish of me. “Yes. It was his.”