wrinkled Fates sat. Just what was Zeus planning? Zagreus hadn’t been subject to the Fates’ torment twenty-five years ago when the male Damon had first been brought to Olympus. Hades had decided to torture Zagreus for a while in the Underworld before realizing Zagreus was immune to his cruelty. It wasn’t until six months later that Hades had tossed his son here and Zagreus had been forced to listen to the Fates’ monotonous conversations.
Usually, those conversations were boring as hell, and Zagreus tuned them out. He always perked up when their discussions involved the gods, though. This time, from what little he’d been able to glean, he was sure Zeus was scheming for something. Though what that something was, Zagreus didn’t know. Considering Zeus was involving the princess of Argolea in his plan, though, Zagreus had a feeling it had to be something big.
“We shall see,” Lachesis said, lifting her mug and taking a sip. With a frown, she glanced back toward the kitchen.
Zagreus ducked behind the doorjamb just before she spotted him.
“Ziggy! This coffee is cold.” Then more quietly, Lachesis said, “After twenty-five years, don’t you think that male would finally get it right?”
“I’m telling you,” Atropos muttered, “Ziggy’s a few nuggets short of a Happy Meal, if you know what I mean. I could easily put him out of his misery, as well.”
“Oh hush, you,” Clotho whispered. “We already decided against that too. I like our Ziggy.”
For one swift second, Zagreus pictured himself picking up the hot coffeepot and hurling it toward the Fates. Then common sense kicked in, and he realized if he did that, he’d never get out of this realm. And that was his only goal. To find a way to escape. Fuck true love and destiny and whatever the hell Zeus had planned. All Zagreus cared about was freedom.
That and all the vile, malicious ways he was going to make his father pay for sending him to this hellhole when he finally got free.
“L et’s go, Highness,” a female voice rang out from ahead. “You’re sucking up the tail end.”
Elysia clawed her way out of the bog, grappling at reeds and grass and anything she could hold on to for leverage, and pulled. Gasping in a breath, she dragged herself up onto the grass, then fumbled her way to her feet.
“Better put some muscle into it,” the Siren yelled louder, “or you’re gonna be last again .”
Elysia gulped in another breath, eyed the other recruits running away from her, and pushed her legs forward. Every muscle in her body ached, and mud slid down her face to mess with her vision, but she was determined not to be last. Last on the training course meant she was the last to eat, and that meant she had to sit on the floor like a dog because all the chairs would already be taken. Last meant she had to stick around the mess hall for cleanup duty. And last meant she’d be working her fingers to the bone until midnight and would miss out on the sleep she desperately needed before she had to get up and do it all again.
She’d been on Olympus for only a month, but she’d already learned a very valuable lesson: whatever you’d done to complete the seven labors on Pandora didn’t count. You either excelled on the Siren training field now, or you failed and were cast out of Olympus.
She wasn’t entirely sure what that meant. No one had answered her question when she’d asked where Zeus sent the recruits who didn’t make the cut. And part of her was afraid to know the truth. Because just knowing no one would talk about it meant wherever those females went couldn’t be good.
An image of white towers shimmering in the late-afternoon sunlight flickered behind her eyes, and a sense of longing filled her chest. Over the last month, the images had sharpened. She saw faces now. Heard voices. Knew the memories were of her home and family far away, but she still didn’t know where. Common sense told her not to let anyone know. Damon had made it
Usually, those conversations were boring as hell, and Zagreus tuned them out. He always perked up when their discussions involved the gods, though. This time, from what little he’d been able to glean, he was sure Zeus was scheming for something. Though what that something was, Zagreus didn’t know. Considering Zeus was involving the princess of Argolea in his plan, though, Zagreus had a feeling it had to be something big.
“We shall see,” Lachesis said, lifting her mug and taking a sip. With a frown, she glanced back toward the kitchen.
Zagreus ducked behind the doorjamb just before she spotted him.
“Ziggy! This coffee is cold.” Then more quietly, Lachesis said, “After twenty-five years, don’t you think that male would finally get it right?”
“I’m telling you,” Atropos muttered, “Ziggy’s a few nuggets short of a Happy Meal, if you know what I mean. I could easily put him out of his misery, as well.”
“Oh hush, you,” Clotho whispered. “We already decided against that too. I like our Ziggy.”
For one swift second, Zagreus pictured himself picking up the hot coffeepot and hurling it toward the Fates. Then common sense kicked in, and he realized if he did that, he’d never get out of this realm. And that was his only goal. To find a way to escape. Fuck true love and destiny and whatever the hell Zeus had planned. All Zagreus cared about was freedom.
That and all the vile, malicious ways he was going to make his father pay for sending him to this hellhole when he finally got free.
“L et’s go, Highness,” a female voice rang out from ahead. “You’re sucking up the tail end.”
Elysia clawed her way out of the bog, grappling at reeds and grass and anything she could hold on to for leverage, and pulled. Gasping in a breath, she dragged herself up onto the grass, then fumbled her way to her feet.
“Better put some muscle into it,” the Siren yelled louder, “or you’re gonna be last again .”
Elysia gulped in another breath, eyed the other recruits running away from her, and pushed her legs forward. Every muscle in her body ached, and mud slid down her face to mess with her vision, but she was determined not to be last. Last on the training course meant she was the last to eat, and that meant she had to sit on the floor like a dog because all the chairs would already be taken. Last meant she had to stick around the mess hall for cleanup duty. And last meant she’d be working her fingers to the bone until midnight and would miss out on the sleep she desperately needed before she had to get up and do it all again.
She’d been on Olympus for only a month, but she’d already learned a very valuable lesson: whatever you’d done to complete the seven labors on Pandora didn’t count. You either excelled on the Siren training field now, or you failed and were cast out of Olympus.
She wasn’t entirely sure what that meant. No one had answered her question when she’d asked where Zeus sent the recruits who didn’t make the cut. And part of her was afraid to know the truth. Because just knowing no one would talk about it meant wherever those females went couldn’t be good.
An image of white towers shimmering in the late-afternoon sunlight flickered behind her eyes, and a sense of longing filled her chest. Over the last month, the images had sharpened. She saw faces now. Heard voices. Knew the memories were of her home and family far away, but she still didn’t know where. Common sense told her not to let anyone know. Damon had made it
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