The Goddess Test Boxed Set: Goddess Interrupted\The Goddess Inheritance\The Goddess Legacy (80 page)

Demeter was quiet for a long moment. “Do you really think he
would do that?”

“Yes,” I said flatly. “He's exactly like our father—greedy,
hungry for power, convinced he alone knows what is best. Concerned only with his
own wants and desires without any regard for those he claims to love—”

“Hera.”

“—and if he thinks I'm going to let him get away with treating
me with such little respect, I'll—”

“Hera.”

Demeter reached for Ares, and I stopped. He was wailing now,
his cries loud enough to wake all of Olympus. Numb, I allowed her to take him.
“I need to find her,” I said, my arms cold without the weight of my son. “She
can't give birth. She can't destroy the council like that.”

“It isn't her fault,” said Demeter. “I'm certain Zeus lied to
her. Even if he didn't, this is a choice he made. She didn't seduce him.”

“I don't want to hear it.” I stood on shaky legs. “I must go.
Watch after him while I'm away.”

She opened her mouth, but before she could say a word, she
seemed to think better of it. At last she nodded. “Do what you must. I love
you.”

“I love you, too, sister. Thank you for telling me.”

And with that, I exited the room, determined to do whatever I
had to in order to stop this atrocity.

* * *

Several nights later, Zeus stormed into our chambers.
“What did you do?”

The joy he'd emanated since Ares's birth was gone now, replaced
by waves of anger that would have frightened any reasonable person. He was,
after all, King. But I was Queen, and this war was between equals.

“What do you mean?” I said with mocking innocence. If he was
going to dare grow angry with me for protecting the council's interests, for
protecting the fairness and equality upon which we'd all agreed, then he was
going to have to confess to breaking the most important promise he'd made me. To
breaking his vows.

His face went from pink to red to a shade of purple that
couldn't possibly be natural, and lightning encompassed his clenched fists. “You
know what,” he finally said in his thunderous voice. “Leto's been in labor for
days.”

“And she'll remain in labor for a very long time,” I said,
cradling Ares as he slept. Odd how my anger affected him, yet he barely batted
an eye at his father's fury. “I hardly see why it matters to you. Your son is
right here.”

“Do not play these games with me,” he snarled. “You will undo
whatever it is you did immediately.”

“What could I have possibly done, and why would I have done
it?” I brushed a lock of Ares's hair from his eyes. Such a beautiful baby. He
deserved so much more than the father he had.

Lightning cracked outside the balcony, mere feet away from
where we lay. If Zeus thought his threats would frighten me into complacency, he
was sorely mistaken. At last, however, his shoulders sank, and he reached out
for me. “Hera, my love, I'm so sorry. I made a grave mistake—”

I slapped his hand away. “From what I've heard, you've made
several
mistakes
. How many mistresses have you had
since we married?”

His brow furrowed. “Just one. Just Leto—”

“Liar.”

He squeezed his eyes shut, as if he were in pain. “Hera,
please—”

“I will not sit here and listen to your lies.” I stood, and in
my arms, Ares made a small sound. “You may either lie and go or stay and tell
the truth. If you want any chance of me helping your precious Leto, I'd suggest
the latter.”

“I'm loyal to you,” he said, his voice breaking. “To you and
only you. The others, they're nothing—”

“If they are nothing, then why did you bother with them in the
first place?”

“Weakness. Opportunity. I wasn't thinking—”

“That much is obvious.”

“Hera, please.” Zeus stood and moved toward me, but I backed
away. “They're innocent children.”

“So is Ares, yet before a week's passed, you've forced him to
face his father's infidelities and lies.” I walked to the curtain that separated
our chambers from the hallway. “I won't help you or Leto. As far as I'm
concerned, our marriage is over.”

“Then so is your role as my queen.”

I stopped, and the darkness spun around me. I clutched Ares to
my chest. “My title has nothing to do with our marriage.”

“It has everything to do with our marriage, and you know
it.”

“You can't strip me of our partnership—”

“If you dissolve our marriage, I can and I will,” he said in a
dangerously soft voice. “I've made mistakes. I won't make them again. All I ask
for now is your forgiveness, and that you not take your anger out on the
innocent.”

“Because of you, none of us are innocent.” My eyes watered, and
I gazed down at my son. My title or my pride. That was the choice he was forcing
upon me. All I'd worked for, all I'd done for the council—or having to stand
beside a god who had lied to me about everything.

Our whole family must have known. Certainly Poseidon and
Demeter, and Demeter wouldn't keep something like this from Hestia. Though not
Hades. Hades would have told me—

I'd chosen wrong. I should've waited. Hades would've never done
this to me. I should've listened to him, to my sister, to my conscience—but I'd
been blinded by Zeus's promises and my pride. I'd thought I could change him.
Clearly I'd been wrong. And now the whole council would suffer for me.

No. I wouldn't allow everything we'd worked for to fall. No
matter what Zeus seemed to think, we all had equal say on the council. And as
long as those twins never arrived, as long as he never had the chance to place
them among us, then he was still only one voice.

“I will remain with you,” I said thickly, staring at our son.
My son. “I will not forgive you, but I will stay. And in return, you will never
see those children or that woman again.”

Silence, followed by soft footsteps as he moved toward me. “And
you will allow her to give birth?”

“I will relieve her of her burden.”

He set his hand on my back, the heat between us hotter than the
hottest forge. “Very well. I am and have always been yours.”

I turned away from him and stepped into the corridor. “No, you
haven't,” I whispered, and before he could tell me any other lies, I hurried
away, heading for my sister.

* * *

For the next three days, I waited for news. I avoided my
duties both to the realm and to Zeus, wanting to give him a taste of what it
would be like to rule without me. Perhaps in the early days he could've handled
it on his own, but now the realm was far too big for any one person to rule
without things slipping through the cracks. Eventually he would discover just
how much he needed me.

I remained with Demeter, sleeping in her chambers and wandering
the earth beside her, showing Ares the beauty of the world. He seemed to enjoy
it, gurgling and turning his face toward the sun. I avoided the lake where I'd
helped the injured bird, knowing that if Zeus wanted to find me, that was the
first place he would look. And I would not be fooled by him again.

“It'll get easier, you know,” said Demeter as we wandered
across a white sand beach, searching for shells for Ares. “Eventually the hurt
and anger will fade.”

“But things will never be the same again,” I said bitterly. “I
will never be as happy as I was, believing his promises.”

“Happiness is a choice, sister,” she said, plucking a piece of
coral from the sand. “You have a beautiful baby who loves you nearly as much as
you love him. Isn't that enough reason to find joy in the world?”

“Sometimes. Most of the time. But there's a piece of me that
will always remain shriveled because of what his father did.”

“Then hide it away and never let it be seen, not even by
yourself. Focus on the good, and eventually happiness will come as easily
as—”

“Hera.”

Zeus's voice cut through the ocean breeze, and Demeter fell
silent. I stiffened. Finally. “I have no interest in seeing you today,” I said
without turning around. “Go.”

“You did it, didn't you?” He grabbed my shoulder and yanked me
around. “You sent that serpent after Leto—”

“I told you I would relieve her of her burden,” I snapped,
jerking away from him. Ares began to cry. “It isn't my fault you interpreted it
the way you did. But it is your fault that you ever put her and those children
in that situation to begin with. Consider their deaths to be on your hands.”

He set his mouth in a thin line. I expected anger born out of
grief and anguish, but I only saw frustration. “That's where you're wrong,” he
said quietly. “They survived. And you will never find Leto again.”

No. Impossible. I stared at him, horrified. Demeter set her
hand on my shoulder, but even she couldn't comfort me now. “And the twins?”

“They have joined me in Olympus,” said Zeus, and he may as well
have squeezed my heart until it was nothing. “When they are older, they too will
join the council. Effective immediately, Athena will move to Olympus to help me
care for them, and she too will join our ranks.”

Athena, Aphrodite, the twins. Four more voices to echo
Zeus.

That was it, then, We'd lost. I sank to the ground, rocking
Ares as he cried, but my thoughts were anywhere but on that beach. It was only a
matter of time before Zeus overthrew my sisters and me entirely.

I didn't know how long I sat there, the sun shining down on me
and the waves crashing to shore only a few feet away. Demeter remained by my
side, and eventually Ares calmed, but I couldn't find the same peace no matter
how hard I tried.

“It's over,” I whispered long after Zeus departed. “The four of
them and Poseidon will follow Zeus's every word.”

“You don't know that for sure,” murmured Demeter. “Perhaps they
will think for themselves. Athena has a good head on her shoulders, and I can't
imagine her being swayed from something she believes in.”

“She hates me for replacing her mother. She'll never vote with
me on anything, especially against her father.”

Demeter hesitated. “Even then, perhaps Aphrodite—”

“She's his favorite.” The words stuck in my throat, and I had
to force them out. “She'll agree to anything so long as he loves her the
most.”

She ran her fingers through my hair. “The end of time hasn't
come yet. There are still plenty of opportunities to have children and even the
numbers.”

“He won't touch me now. He'll know I'm up to something. Even he
isn't dumb enough to believe I'd forgive him so quickly.”

“Then wait,” she murmured.

“We don't have time to spare.”

Demeter sighed and kissed my hair. “It will work out. I promise
you, everything will be all right.”

I turned away. After all the broken promises I'd endured from
those I loved, her words didn't mean anything to me anymore. “Even if he
discards his current mistresses, it'll only be a matter of time before he takes
another.”

“That's true,” she said slowly as the waves lapped our ankles.
The tide would force us to move soon. “People don't change.”

Or Zeus didn't, at least. “What then? How many more
illegitimate children will he have?”

“I don't know,” she said softly. “As many as he wants, I
suppose.”

“And meanwhile, he'll leave me with only Ares. I'll never have
daughters, I'll never have another son. Unless—”

I stopped. Of course. Why hadn't I thought of it before? It
would be almost too easy, using Zeus's weakness against him, and with
patience—

“Unless what?” said Demeter. I didn't answer. “Hera, unless
what?”

At last I faced her again, unable to help my grin. “Unless I
trick him. Unless I play him like a fool the same way he's played me.”

She frowned. “You're miserable enough as it is. Why put
yourself in the line of fire all over again?”

“Because when he takes another mistress—and he will, we both
know he will—I'm going to make sure it's me.”

* * *

I roamed the beaches every night for a season. Demeter
watched Ares for me, and though we planned an elaborate story if Zeus ever
checked in on me, he never did.

I didn't expect it to work. I hoped, and I used my abilities as
much as I dared to entice him to come to me, but in all my planning, I never
truly thought I would win.

But at last, as the full moon shone down on my changed form, I
saw him. He stood framed by the trees in the distance, his hair tickling his
shoulders in the breeze, and for a moment I nearly forgot why I hated him.
Whether he recognized me or not, I couldn't tell, and I held my breath as he
slowly made his way across the sand toward me.

“Hello,” he murmured in a voice he'd never used with me.
“What's your name?”

Relief swept through me, as palpable as the golden ichor in my
veins. He didn't know me. And at last, for the first time in months, I smiled at
him.

“Hephaesta,” I murmured. “My name is Hephaesta.”

* * *

Our affair lasted one night, but that was all I needed.
I never returned to the beach, and whether or not he came looking for his new
mistress, I didn't know. He never showed any signs of distress in Olympus. Then
again, I'd been nothing more than a fling to him, and if he truly fell in love
with my disguise, then he was a greater fool than even I'd suspected.

My belly grew round as time passed. I made no effort to hide
it, and though Demeter reported whisperings and gossip from the other gods, I
didn't care. Whether they knew it or not, this was a legitimate child. What they
thought didn't matter.