Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 101264 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 506(@200wpm)___ 405(@250wpm)___ 338(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101264 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 506(@200wpm)___ 405(@250wpm)___ 338(@300wpm)
“Hermes certainly has a flare for the dramatic,” I manage as we hurry up the stairs.
“Yeah,” Cassandra says shortly. “She does.”
On the third floor, the hallway looks very much the same as the second floor: broad space, thick carpet on the floors, the walls lined with more doors than are reasonable.
Cassandra once again pulls her hand from mine, and this time I allow it. We might be searching together, but it isn’t a reasonable ask to maintain my hold on her the whole time, no matter how comforting I find it. “You take left, I take right?”
“That works for me.”
The doors are locked. Of course they’re locked. I glance across the hallway at Cassandra as she rattles another doorknob. “I don’t suppose you’re adept at lock picking.”
“Why would I be adept at lock picking, Apollo? That’s not a skill set that people have tucked up their sleeves outside fiction.”
“You did date Hermes.”
Cassandra eyes me, expression guarded. “I knew you were going to be weird about that.”
“I’m not being weird about it.”
“You are most assuredly being weird about it.” She huffs out a breath. “Lock picking? Please. You have a propensity for kicking down doors. Go for it.” She motions to the door behind her. “Besides, you’re the spymaster. If one of us should be good at lock picking, it’s you.”
I make a face. “There’s a reason I built the team I did. I’m good at managing and interpreting information, but I would have been much better suited to be Hephaestus. The spy-work part of the job doesn’t come naturally to me. Hector tried to teach me to pick locks, but I’m terrible at it. I can get in…eventually, but time is of the essence right now.” I clear my throat. “And I don’t actually kick down doors.”
“From how worried about it you were yesterday, I would have thought it was just as common an occurrence as lock picking.”
Embarrassment heats my skin. “Your point is noted.”
“Glad to hear it.” She reaches the last door in the hallway and tries the doorknob. It twists in her hand and the door creaks open. Cassandra blinks. “Didn’t see that coming.”
“The odds weren’t in our favor.”
We share a glance. “This feels like a trap,” she says.
“I can’t argue that.”
“Well, after you.” She opens the door and steps back to allow me to precede her. Inside the room is bathed in shadows, thick curtains drawn over the windows. It’s about the same size as our guest room downstairs, and I can make out the shape of a canopied bed, dresser, and two nightstands on either side of the bed. I feel around for a light and finally flick the switch. Disappointment sours my stomach.
Everywhere I look is evidence of Minos’s daughter. The decor of the room leans toward frothy and dainty: the canopy made of lace, the comforter looking like some kind of antique bridal style, and even the rug beneath the bed seeming to be made of ruffles.
This is not Minos’s room, and it certainly doesn’t belong to the Minotaur or Theseus. I frown. “Well, this was a waste of time.” It’s likely that Minos’s sons have some knowledge of his plan, but I’m not certain Ariadne does. I know better than to take things at face value, but Ariadne seems to be exactly what she presents: a lovely woman who has resigned herself to being a pawn for Minos on the marriage mart.
“You don’t know that.”
I look around again. “I suppose this could belong to the other woman in Minos’s household. Her name is Pandora.” She’s not a foster like the two men, but she came with them to Olympus all the same. “It’s unlikely either she or Ariadne have valuable information.” It’s even less likely when the unlocked door is taken into account. Minos hasn’t misstepped yet. It’s unlikely this is the exception to the rule.
“Don’t be so rash.” Cassandra slips past me. Her breasts brush my arm as she does, and I have to swallow past a physical response to her nearness. I should be focusing on the mission, on finding as much information as possible with the time allotted us, but suddenly all I can think about is whether she’s as bare under that dress as she was last night. I actually clench my fists to keep from reaching for her instead of using this opportunity to search the room as she’s begun to.
The hold this woman has on me. I swallow hard and follow her into the bedroom.
It takes three minutes of rifling through the dresser, feeling like the worst kind of creep, before I straighten. “There’s nothing here.” What did I expect, though? Minos is definitely keeping the information I need in his study. All the rest of this searching is only to ensure we’re not missing something while we figure out a way into that locked room. Frustration surges and bubbles forth before I can call it back. “Fuck,” I breathe.