Curses of Olympus (The Olympus Trilogy #2)

5. Aphrodite

5

APHRODITE

T he musty smell of the catacombs combined with the dim lighting of the everflames makes Aphrodite’s head hurt, but she refuses to give up. She’s going to find the witch and whatever Athena is hiding. What else does the Goddess of Wisdom whisper about to Zeus?

She should be focusing on Icarus right now. She still can’t believe she found her again, but Athena’s secrecy has taken over her thoughts. Something is afoot in the Olympic Isles, and she doubts it’s solely the rebels that are responsible. It couldn’t have worked out better that Icarus ended up being accepted into the Pegasus Legion.

Though they are keeping their relationship under wraps, it’s extremely convenient that she’s currently living on the same island Aphrodite is searching.

Athena’s secrets could be anywhere in the Isles, but Aphrodite feels like Athena is wise enough to keep them close.

The wall is cool as she leans against it to take a break. She rubs her temples and stretches her neck, which is starting to ache. When she turns to the left, she sees a gap in the wall that wasn’t there before. She takes a few steps back and looks at the gap head-on, and again, it’s not there. It must be an optical illusion.

She grabs an everflame torch from the wall and steps into the space. The narrow path descends gradually, and Aphrodite delves deeper into the island.

When she reaches the end, she finds a large open room. It has a hearth that must be magiked, because she can’t imagine where it would vent out. Dried herbs cover the walls, and the surfaces are covered with tools, crystals, and books.

A massive loom sits in one corner, but it looks like it hasn’t been touched in ages.

She squints at a dark shadow in the back of the room, trying to get a better look, when two golden eyes come into view and a lioness stalks into the light, a low rumble of warning sounding in her chest.

She finally sees a woman sitting in a chair in the darkness. Her pale skin almost glows in the low light, and her long straight black hair falls past her waist. Golden eyes that match those of the lioness watch Aphrodite intently.

Her cream tunic flows to the floor, only fastened at the shoulders with simple, crude pins. She wears no belt giving her form a shapeless quality.

“Hello, who are you?” Aphrodite asks.

She is met with silence.

Shifting uncomfortably on her feet, she adds, “Will she hurt me?”

Silence, but the lioness stops moving, although she keeps her eyes pinned on Aphrodite.

Alright then… “Are you the witch?” Aphrodite wonders.

The woman’s expression doesn’t change.

“What are you doing down here? Are you a prisoner?”

Is this pointless, or is she just not asking the right questions?

“Is Athena responsible for you being here?”

At the mention of Athena’s name, the briefest flicker of rage flashes across the woman’s face but is gone so quickly, Aphrodite isn’t even sure she saw it.

A sigh leaves her lips. This isn’t going to work.

She turns to leave when the woman suddenly speaks.

“The fates of many may rest in your hands. An object of great power, forgotten by all, will play a role in the days to come. Something you possess, goddess. Can you see it?”

Brow furrowed in confusion, Aphrodite asks, “What do you mean? Is this a prophecy? Tell me, are you Athena’s witch?”

The woman’s face twists into a sneer. “I belong to no one. Leave me.”

Aphrodite takes a step forward to protest, but the lioness moves closer, lips snarling to show sharp teeth.

She backs out of the room, slowly, heading back up the path and into the catacombs. It takes what feels like an eternity, even for an immortal being, before she is once again above the surface and breathing fresh air.

T he guest chambers in Athena’s Temple spare no luxury, and Aphrodite takes in the rich green curtains, and gold and silver decor as she sits in one of the decadently cushioned chairs next to the small table with her correspondence. How Hermes and his messengers always know where people are never ceases to amaze her.

There are a couple of scrolls from the acolytes in her Temple, filling her in on the goings on while she is away. She’s been neglecting her duties, but this island is where she needs to be right now instead of her own.

The last scroll holds her son’s seal. If throwing one’s babies into the River Styx wasn’t strictly forbidden, she wouldn’t be having to tolerate him.

She opens it, and the message is short. “I won’t be ignored, Mother.”

Aphrodite crumbles the rough parchment into a ball and tosses it into the nearest wastebasket with a huff. She desperately wishes she did not have to avoid her son like this, but his behavior leaves her with no choice. Anyone else would do the same.

There’s a gentle knock on her door. Aphrodite rolls her eyes and calls, “Come in.”

An acolyte for Athena’s Temple enters the room and bows to Aphrodite, waiting until she has permission before rising. Good, Athena trains them well here.

She is so pale, she looks like the sun has never touched her skin, but her hair is dark as obsidian. She reminds of her a younger, cleaner version of the mystery woman beneath the catacombs.

“What is it?” Aphrodite asks.

“The wise goddess Athena wishes for you to join her for dinner, if it pleases you, goddess.”

“I’ll be right there.”

“Yes, goddess.” She bows once more before leaving the room.

Aphrodite takes a moment to rinse the dirt from her feet from the catacombs and change into a fresh dress.

Her mind turns over the different ways to try and get information from Athena. Should she seduce her? That’s regularly worked in the past, but it doesn’t feel right now that she’s found Icarus? No, this game with Athena works best when she’s distracted but that can be achieved without sharing a bed.

She slips on a deep emerald sheer dress that has fabric ivy leaves covering just enough to look modest. She runs a finger through her necklaces before layering three thin gold ones, the longest of which falls between her breasts. This isn’t any different from Aphrodite’s normal clothing, so it won’t stand out as strange, but she knows exactly what to wear from her usual wardrobe to hold Athena’s attention.

The dress has a deep slit high up her left hip, and she accentuates it with another gold chain around her upper thigh.

The dining hall’s vaulted ceilings still take her breath away. Beams of moonlight stream in through the large skylight, accentuated by the marble Corinthian columns.

When her gaze lands on the gathered group sitting at the table, she wishes she had covered up more. At Athena’s side is her right hand, Telegonus. Next to him is Aphrodite’s son Oedipus. The short curls of pale blonde hair, so similar in color to her own, is a stark contrast next to the jet black hair of Telegonus.

What is he doing here? Did Athena invite him?

She has never shared her struggles with Oedipus with anyone in the Pantheon. Not only would that show weakness, it would give them something to use against her.

“Athena, darling, you didn’t mention that there’d be company.” She turns to her son with a forced smile. “My son, how lovely to see you. What brings you here?”

To Aphrodite’s surprise, his cloak isn’t the generic black one the Heroes wear, but a green one.

“When I heard you’ve been spending so much time here, I asked for a transfer. The gracious goddess Athena was more than happy to facilitate such a request for family. Why have you been spending so much time here, Mother?” Oedipus drawls.

This isn’t how this was supposed to go at all, as Aphrodite is now the one being questioned. Is that why Telegonus is here?

She keeps the smile plastered on. “I just needed a change of scenery. I was actually planning to head back to my island tomorrow. I didn’t realize it would ignite an inquiry into my behavior.”

“Of course not,” Athena chimes in. “I’ve been happy to have you around lately; I think your son has merely missed you. It’s a shame you’re leaving just as he got here.”

“Yes. Pity,” Oedipus says through gritted teeth.

The rest of the meal is awkward, the conversation clunky, and Aphrodite can’t be more thrilled when it’s finally over.

She returns to the guest chambers and packs the few things she brought with her, before sitting down and writing a quick note for Icarus to let her know where she went. Training for the Pegasus Legion is going to keep her too busy for the next week or so anyway, so it’s the perfect time to get some distance from Oedipus and try to figure out what object the mystery woman could have possibly meant.