Curses of Olympus (The Olympus Trilogy #2)

24. Aphrodite

24

APHRODITE

T he lioness does not stir from her spot this time when Aphrodite walks into the woman’s lair. It seems silly to call it a cell since she does not see a door anywhere keeping her contained within.

“Hello, goddess. I knew you would return,” the woman says from the corner of the room where she is grinding herbs with a mortar and pestle.

“What is your name? Will you tell me this time?” Aphrodite asks, trying to hide the eagerness in her voice. She does not like to reveal her vulnerabilities so easily.

The woman’s dark lips curl into a thin smile. “My name is Circe.”

Aphrodite crinkles her brow as she tries to place the name.

Circe chuckles. “No point in trying to remember who I am. The owl removed all knowledge of me from your history books. It’s easier for her if people do not remember.”

“But why?” she presses, eager for answers.

The woman tuts, “Ah, it is not time for that yet. I know you likely think me mad, but you know nothing of how delicately this must be done.”

Aphrodite steps closer. “How delicately what must be done?”

“I’ve already likely said too much. Did you seek something from me besides my name?” Circe asks.

“That and what you are doing down here.”

Circe gestures around the small room. “This is my home, of course. All my things are here.”

Aphrodite sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose, causing Circe to laugh loudly.

“Oh goddess, if you think I am a cryptic pain in a minotaur’s ass, you should try talking to the Fates.”

More questions than answers hover over Aphrodite’s head like a rain cloud. Each droplet containing either solutions or madness, and this unstable woman controls which ones fall.

The mortar and pestle clank on the counter as Circe abruptly sets them down and walks over to Aphrodite until they are face-to-face. “Did you find it?”

“No,” Aphrodite bites out. That stupid object has been a source of incessant frustration and curiosity.

“I will tell you three things, goddess. And then you shall leave me be for today. One—the item is crucial to the outcome of this world. Two—through it, we can finally see the proper balances reflected in Olympus. Three—you will have a change of heart once you find it.”

Aphrodite’s jaw drops. “What the Fates is that supposed to mean?”

Circe’s face is unreadable as she ignores the goddess before her and returns to her herbs.

Rolling her head back and sighing with frustration, Aphrodite leaves Circe’s lair intent on returning to her island within the next few days.

H er quarters are dark and quiet when Aphrodite slips inside. A flicker of light from the guest suite catches her eye, and she hopes that it is Icarus. Her heartbeat quickens at the thought that it might be Oedipus. Is she going to have to fend him off today?

Aphrodite’s lets out a sigh of relief at the long golden tresses spilling out onto her rose-pink sheets. She stands there, watching the glow from the lantern bouncing off Icarus's form.

The chaos of her thoughts must be unbearably loud, because Icarus stirs as if she can hear them.

“Why aren’t you asleep?” Icarus asks, her voice husky from her slumber.

“I just have a lot on my mind. Nothing to worry about, my love.” Aphrodite kisses Icarus on the forehead and runs her fingers through the golden tresses of her lover. “Did I wake you?”

Icarus shakes her head. “No, I had a dream.”

“Tell me?” Aphrodite nudges.

As Icarus sits up in the bed, Aphrodite follows, pulling one of Icarus’s hands into her lap and clasping it tightly.

“It was about the rebels.”

Aphrodite stiffens at the mention of the agitators but gestures for Icarus to continue.

“In my dream…” Icarus swallows, as if she can barely say it aloud. “We found the entire rebel base—all of them. It was like I had no control over my own body. I was walking through their encampment with flames rolling off my skin. There were flaming bronze feathered wings on my back, and I killed them all. There were even children there. All while Athena watched from her pegasus with glee.”

“But they were rebels?” Aphrodite asks, tilting her head. If they were the people responsible for the upheaval of their realm, she does not see what the issue is.

“I mean, yes! But they were people! And I just killed them because someone told me to.” Icarus pulls her hair in frustration as Aphrodite gives her a cold stare.

“What do you think those same rebels would do to you if they got you alone and defenseless? Do you think they would spare you? Offer you a moment of reprieve because of your kind heart? They would eat you alive!” she scoffs.

Shock crosses Icarus’s face, and Aphrodite knows she has gone too far; let her agitation over the rebels and the mystery woman spill into her time with Icarus, but she couldn’t stop herself.

“It doesn’t matter. It was only a dream. Why don’t we try and go back to sleep?” Aphrodite offers, but the daggers in Icarus’s eyes tell the goddess that will not be happening.

In a huff, Icarus gets out of the bed and paces around the room gathering her clothing and putting it on, muttering to herself angrily.

“Please don’t leave. I didn’t mean it.” Aphrodite extends her hand. “Stay with me.”

Icarus’s chest visibly shakes as she takes a deep breath. “I’m going to my barracks. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

The silence following in the wake of Icarus’s departure is maddening, leaving Aphrodite alone in her bed, regretting every word she said.