Curses of Olympus (The Olympus Trilogy #2)

37. Aphrodite

37

APHRODITE

A s Aphrodite makes her way to see Circe, she continuously checks over her shoulder. She does not think anyone saw her arrive on this island, but with all the uncertainty in the air right now, she cannot be too sure.

The mirror is cold against her skin as she grips it tightly in her pocket.

It is time for answers. The oracle was of little use in tracking Icarus’s location, but Circe has an ancient power brimming in her veins, Aphrodite can sense it. It feels like a predator lurking in the bushes, keen eyes homed in on its prey, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. Surely, she of all people can find Icarus.

Aphrodite rushes into the room, catching the witch at her dinnertime apparently as she lifts a spoon from a bowl to her lips. Circe rolls her eyes when she sees Aphrodite but beckons for the goddess forward, dropping the utensils with a clatter.

“I can tell you where she is,” Circe says bluntly, and Aphrodite’s jaw drops. “What?” she asks. “You think I am prophetic enough to find her, but not enough to anticipate the question?”

Aphrodite blinks. “I found it. The mirror.”

“I know,” Circe replies, tone clipped and lacking any patience.

“What do I do with it? Why won’t you give me any answers? How far does this world have to fall apart before you and the Fates decide you can share your secrets with us?” Anger rises in Aphrodite’s chest as it feels like she will just be talked in circles once more.

Circe’s voice is low, almost a raspy whisper. “You will know what to do with it when the time is right, and you are in luck because its journey follows the same path as yours to find your lover.”

“And where does that path lead? Where is she?” Aphrodite’s heart hammers in her chest at the thought of finding Icarus.

“While the mirror’s route is a crucial one, to access it and find the girl, the universe requires a price. What are you willing to pay?”

Price? What price?

Circe points to a mirror hanging on the wall. “Take a good, long look, my dear. The Fates will weigh what it is you seek and what they deem a fair price to be. If that risk is an acceptable one, step forward and offer yourself up to the three sisters.”

Without an ounce of hesitation, Aphrodite briskly walks to the mirror. If she were not so desperate to right things with Icarus, she might have stopped to think about what the Fates might ask of her. In her frantic mind, there is nothing she would not give.

For a moment, nothing happens, and Aphrodite’s reflection alone stares back at her. She is about to turn ask Circe if she is certain it is working when the surface of the mirror begins to swirl as if the reflective silver morphed into a liquid.

The motion suddenly stops, and instead of her reflection, Aphrodite sees the stars in the heavens, as if she is in a room floating amongst them, looking out the window.

A flash of light forces Aphrodite to glance away, and when she looks back there are three women looking at her, sitting in thrones made of stardust.

“Hello, goddess.” All three women speak in unison, and the effect is haunting.

“You’re the Fates,” Aphrodite says. “I did not expect to actually speak with you. Thank you for honoring me with your time.”

“Do not waste your niceties on us, goddess. We know you are eager to hear our price,” the trio of women hiss.

“Yes, please. I have to find her again. I can’t have messed it up this colossally.” Aphrodite can hear the desperation in her voice, but she does not care.

“You have spread much pain, goddess. Many innocents have fallen at your behest. We have devised a cost that will also serve as a reminder that while your beauty may hide your misdeeds, it is not a guarantee.”

Aphrodite looks between the three sisters, their features hidden behind the glimmering cosmos. The only thing she can see are their cold eyes staring hard at her. Do they mean to take her beauty? Make her ugly?

Panic gnaws at Aphrodite’s heart.

Will Icarus still love me if I lose my beauty? What if the price keeps her from wanting me?

“Well, goddess, what will it be?” the Fates ask.

Images of Icarus flutter through Aphrodite’s mind on golden wings. A tear rolls down her cheek as she pictures Icarus’s bright smile, her laughter. “Do it.”

“Yes, goddess.” The heavens swirl until the mirror is silver once more, and Aphrodite’s reflection looks back at her.

Aphrodite stares in disbelief as she examines herself. Essentially, she still looks the same, but leaning in she sees that her facial features are sharper, harsher. A shriek bubbles out of Aphrodite as she notices the fine lines around the edges of her eyes and faint wrinkles in her forehead.

Circe rushes over. “What’s wrong? What is the matter?”

“What do you mean? Look at me!” Aphrodite lashes out at the witch.

“I am looking at you. Nothing has changed,” Circe scolds.

“Look!” Aphrodite points to the mirror. “Don’t you see it? My hideousness?”

“Goddess,” Circe says firmly, “your appearance has not changed. It must just be your reflection.”

The horrifying reality seals into Aphrodite. She is immortal, and this will be her reflection forever. She will never look upon her true self ever again, never see her beauty with her own eyes. It feels as if the floor has opened beneath her and threatens to swallow her whole, like a part of her is now missing.

But it is missing. The part of Aphrodite that brought her down into the catacombs in the first place.

Taking a steadying breath, Aphrodite turns from the mirror and looks at Circe. “Now tell me where she is.”