Curses of Olympus (The Olympus Trilogy #2)

8. Hestia

8

HESTIA

“ T ry harder. There has to be something we’re missing.” Hestia pinches her brow and sighs. The search for Hera has produced zero results, but she refuses to give up hope.

An equally frustrated Dionysus responds, “Believe me, if I had anything useful to share, I would have found her already.”

That’s when she really looks closely at her friend. The wine colored cloak over his deep purple tunic complement the honey color of his beard and portly stature, but the low lighting in the sitting room fails to mask the worry lines creased into his forehead. Is it because he doesn’t want to be caught helping the rebels? Or does he care much more deeply for Hera than he has ever let on? She’s starting to bet it’s the latter.

Hestia’s reflection in her silver goblet greets her as she raises it to take a sip. It is astounding how quickly her now mortal body is beginning to show signs of aging.

The corners of her eyes show fine lines forming, and her hair is showing hints of grey. How long will it be until Alec no longer finds her beautiful anymore? She has never been particularly vain, but the way her gaze is so often drawn to her reflection now, one would think she is Aphrodite.

Hestia puts her arm around Dionysus’s shoulders. “We’ll find her. There hasn’t been a lotus moon, so she is alive and still in possession of her immortality.”

Dionysus rubs his hand across his face. “I guess you’re right. I just feel like such an asshole,” he mutters. “I’m just sitting here while she could be in danger.”

“You seem to care an awful lot about Hera, Dio.” Hestia gives him a pointed look, and a blush spreads across his face that sends a pang to her heart.

“The same could be said about you, you know?” He raises an eyebrow, and Hestia bristles as her heart pounds in her ears. She has no idea what she is feeling, certainly not enough to risk what she has with Alec.

“She is my friend, and no one is looking for her. It’s not right.”

“I agree. But why are you the only one, besides me, who seems to care?” he retorts.

She stiffens. “I don’t know what you’re trying to imply, Dionysus.”

Dionysus gives Hestia an assessing look before getting up from his seat and making to leave. He pauses and puts a hand on Hestia’s shoulder as he is walking out of the room.

The silence he leaves in his wake is unbearable. What if he tells Alec about this conversation? Will he reject her because of these feelings that Hestia cannot even be certain exist?

The nerve of him. Hera is my dearest friend. The only person who could pull my attention away from my books—until Alec and the Allegiance.

Hestia jumps out of her seat and paces around the room, retracing her interactions with Hera. Remembering the way she would light up when Hera came into the library. Or how when she found a particularly fascinating tidbit in a book, she immediately wanted to tell Hera.

Have I been mistaking romantic feelings for friendship? Can the two be so intermingled that they are impossible to distinguish?

The fabric of her skirts is smooth beneath Hestia’s touch as she worries it between her fingers, itching to do something, desperate to latch onto anything solid as she attempts to rationalize every interaction with Hera.

Deciding the Under Temple Library would be a good start, Hestia begins the long trek toward the one thing she knows will ground her: research.

The rugged, unrefined stone of the Under Temple walls makes the hallways perpetually chilly, and Hestia wishes she had brought a cloak. The cozy hearth fires in the library motivate her to push the cold from her mind, despite her mortal body shivering.

Would a god be cold right now? Does it matter?

Any bitterness over her mortality is allowed into her mind for a single minute when the thoughts arise. A minute where Hestia is free to be devastated, angry, hurt, before she walls it off until the next time she can allow it again.

Perhaps one day it will be easier, and she will no longer care, but until then, her life consists of using all her determination to stay strong waiting for that blessed day. She can’t even really talk to Alec about it. He will simply tell her that she is alive, which is all that matters. That’s easy for him to say. He hasn’t had millennia stolen from his lifespan. Her guilt over her lack of gratefulness threatens to poison any ounce of good that remains in her life.

Hestia almost lets out a cry of relief when she is finally before the hearth in the library. It is only now that her fingers are thawing that she truly realizes how cold she had gotten.

Rows of bookshelves that reach almost to the top of the low ceiling fill the outer perimeter of the room, with a small group of tables and chairs in the center. The smell of parchment and bindings floods her senses and she breathes it in, letting the comfort soak into her soul.

“Hestia!” a voice calls from behind, and she finds Cassandra at a table in a back corner, waving her over.

Taking a seat in front of Cassandra, Hestia glances at the book titles stacked on the table. The ones she recognizes are all about understanding the roots of prophecy and the histories of the oracles.

Cassandra shrugs. “I don’t know what I expect to find in these. Answers? It feels foolish now. All of the stories in these books are about typical oracles, and nothing about me is typical.”

Hestia lets the oracle’s words settle over her. How much does she even know about Cassandra? It is indeed curious that an oracle was born outside of Delphi. What is more intriguing is how she ended up finding the Allegiance. Was it foretold in prophecy?

“It seems most of us have more questions than answers right now,” Hestia offers gently. An undeniable truth if there ever was one.

Cassandra nods but then her body goes rigid. Her eyes glow white as she whispers in a low, raspy voice,

“ Balances are broken,

and there are many paths ahead.

Prices will be paid,

but your goals can yet be met.

Go now,

if you dare.

What you seek,

is in the spider’s lair.”

H estia glances around the table at Cassandra, Isadora, and Iris as they sit in the dining hall of the Under Temple and debate what the prophecy might mean. The wait for Alec’s return has been excruciating, and she wishes he, Medusa, Psyche, and Cadmus were sitting with them now.

A large map of the Isles is spread out on the table before them, and Iris has been eyeing it carefully while the others debate. “It has to be Corcyra,” they say.

“It is such a small, pitiful excuse for an island. Has anyone even set foot on its shores in hundreds of years?” Isadora asks.

Iris shakes their head. “No, but I think that was intentional. We are operating off what the Pantheon has told us for years, but this is likely a prime example of them skewing the narrative. They’re hiding something, and it is there.” They point to the island for emphasis. “Think about it. What are mortals told as children? That Corcyra is overrun with spiders. It’s our best place to start, and it’s far away from any Pantheon temples.”

Isadora studies the map, carefully considering Iris’s words. “We’ll go as soon as the others return.” With that, she gets up and walks away without another word.

Hestia has so many questions for the mysterious leader of the Allegiance, but they all fall away when a messenger rushes to their table with news that Alec and the others have returned, and they are all safe.

T he moment Hestia is in Alec’s arms again, the days of fatigue and uncertainty melt away. Hestia will have to say goodbye to him many more times until this revolution is over, so she intends to cherish every second she can with him, even if that means being courageous in the wake of her fears of intimacy with this mortal body.

Alec has been with mortal women before, and Hestia wonders if they all feel as frail as she does, or is that simply because she is used to a body filled with divine strength?

“What’s wrong, my fire?” Alec asks, voice tender with devotion.

Hestia tries to shake the worrisome thoughts from her head. “Nothing. I’m so glad you’re back.”

The low rumble of his chuckle makes her knees weak. “Did you miss me?”

“You know I did.” Hestia’s tone is playful, but she adds softly, “It was like all the oxygen left with you.”

Taking her hand in his, he brings it to his mouth. The scratch of his beard is rough compared to the softness of his lips as they brush her knuckles. His breath is warm against her fingers as he asks, “Can I show you how much I missed you, too?”

Oh gods. Okay. I can do this. Face my fears. You know this man. If anything doesn’t feel right, he will stop.

Alec does not miss her moment of hesitation. He furrows his salt and pepper brows, concern etched across his face, as he takes a step back to give her space. “Please tell me what’s wrong.”

Hestia chews on her bottom lip. Things were so much simpler when it was just her and her books.

“I…” Hestia searches for the words to say this right. It should be easy, as words are her domain. But alas, nothing seems good enough.

Having never been intimate before, this type of relationship with anyone seemed like a possibility only in a far-off galaxy. Especially with a mortal body. She does not know it herself yet, and he deserves someone who can love him vivaciously.

Is it possible for her heart to beat out of her chest? It sure feels like it. At what point will the confines of her bones and body not be enough to contain this raging torrent of uncertainty?

“Hestia, I never dreamed I would fall in love with anyone. The Allegiance has been my focus, and I could not even fathom considering anyone worthy of being a distraction from that. Until I met you, I thought loving someone would be a liability, but I couldn’t have been more wrong. Loving you pushes me even harder to make sure this world is put right. If I have to burn it all down to make it a safe place for you, then so be it.”

Warmth floods Hestia’s body as his words dance in her soul. And whether it is a mortal one or not, it is his.

Alec steps forward again but does not reach for her. “And as far as intimacy goes, we are on your schedule. I’m in no rush, as long as I can still hold you in my arms and know that you are safe with me.”

That should be enough for Hestia to move past all of this, but she is too worried that he will not be satisfied being with someone so hesitant and inexperienced. Plagued by her insecurities, she fakes a yawn. “I am just so tired. I apologize, my love. Can we sleep instead?”

Hestia does not miss the flicker of confusion on his face, but he pulls her into his arms and kisses the top of her head. “Anything for you.”

Silent tears run down her cheeks, and she buries her head in his chest to hide them as shame consumes her.