The Goddess Legacy
Page 27
- Background:
- Text Font:
- Text Size:
- Line Height:
- Line Break Height:
- Frame:
Daddy is silent for a long moment. “Do you truly believe that spark will last for eternity?”
I sniff. “Of course.”
He watches me. The sun streams in from the balcony, making me see spots, but I don’t look away. I can’t. There’s too much at stake for me to blink.
At last he sighs. “Aphrodite, I am sorry, but I cannot go against my instincts. I love you far too much to let you hurt yourself in such a way. Or allow you to give Ares the chance to hurt you instead.”
He may as well have hit me, too. Slowly I straighten, squaring my shoulders and drawing in every bit of my power. “So be it then,” I say. “If you won’t give me my freedom, then I’ll just have to take it, won’t I?”
I spin around and march out of his office, holding my head high. To his credit, he doesn’t try to stop me, but then again, maybe he thinks I’m too weak to go through with it.
Fine. I’ll just have to prove him wrong, then.
I walk purposely through Olympus as I search for Ares. We don’t have to stay here. We have a right to rule over our own lives, and if we let Daddy win this battle, he’ll keep at it until he wins the war. I love him, but he doesn’t get a say in this. Not anymore.
I find Ares in his chambers. Rather, I don’t so much find him as I hear him from all the way down the hall. He’s yelling at someone, and his voice echoes too much for me to make out the words at first. I hurry to the archway, but I come to a dead stop when I see the scene inside his room.
Everything’s a wreck. His bed is overturned, the silk curtains I hung on his walls have been ripped down and the array of weapons he usually keeps so organized are scattered across the floor. A particularly sharp ax is even buried in the wall, inches from the exit into the hallway.
And standing in the middle of the whole mess are Ares and Hephaestus.
“She’s mine,” Ares bellows, and he thumps his chest with his fist. His rage is palpable, and he glows a faint red. “Not yours, little brother—mine.”
Hephaestus flinches. “You’ve said that,” he says quietly. “But she is not a possession.”
Says the boy who asked his father to give me to him. I snort, and both heads turn in my direction.
“Aphrodite?” says Hephaestus. He steps toward me, but Ares blocks his way with a wicked-looking sword.
“Stay out of this,” says Ares, giving me a look. That same fire is in his eyes, but this passion isn’t for me. It’s for the fight.
“Why, so you two can have it out and decide who gets to marry me instead of letting me choose for myself?” I move toward them, sidestepping a massive shield. “Do either of you actually care about what I want?”
Hephaestus opens his mouth, undoubtedly to claim he does care, but Ares cuts him off. “Now isn’t the time. I will speak with you once I’m through with Hephaestus.”
Ares glares at me, and for once, I don’t flinch. I’ve had enough fighting for one day. If they want to go to war over me, then so be it. I won’t be sticking around to see it, or to give the winner his prize.
“Fine,” I growl, and I turn on my heel and leave. Storming into my chambers, I start to pack. I don’t have many things to take—a hand mirror decorated with pearls that a nymph gave me before Daddy found me, several of my favorite pillows and a reflection of Daddy and me playing on the beach. Even though others shower me with beautiful things, the only items I really care about are the ones with love attached to them—with sentimental value. No matter how angry I am with Daddy, I can’t leave those things behind.
By the time I’m done, Ares is standing in the archway between the hallway and my room, his arms crossed over his broad chest. He smirks, looking disgustedly pleased with himself. The jerk.
“Oh, so you won the battle then?” I say, bitterness saturating every word.
“Don’t be ridiculous. What do you think you’re doing?” he says in that hoarse voice I love. I pause. What am I doing?
“I’m leaving,” I finally say, because it’s the truth. “I’d like for you to come with me, but I won’t demand it.”
He eyes me curiously, as if he’s trying to figure out the puzzle in my words. But there’s no puzzle. He deserves a choice, just like me. “All right then,” he says. “Where are we going?”
With those four words, all of my anxiety vanishes. Grinning, I run to him and wrap my arms around him, showering him with kisses. “I love you so much,” I murmur.
He holds me securely against him, his arms strong and his grip firm, as if he’s never going to let me go. I hope with everything I am that he doesn’t. “Is that a place now?” he teases.
I kiss him again, pouring every last bit of me into it. Words can only say so much, and the way I love him—those words don’t exist. “Home,” I say. “We’re going home.”
* * *
I don’t often talk about my life before Olympus. Or at all, really. There’s no point. I spent most of it on an island with nymphs, who took care of me as if I was their own. But I wasn’t their daughter. I was nobody’s daughter, and no matter how much they loved me, the knowledge that my real parents had abandoned me hurt. Daddy likes to theorize that I didn’t have parents, that I was born from the blood of a Titan, but that only makes things worse. Who wants to exist because someone was in pain?
But one good thing did come out of my childhood: the island. It didn’t have a name when I was growing up, and humans haven’t found it yet, which means it still doesn’t. It’s my safe place, the place I go to think, and the act of taking Ares’s hand and dropping onto the island from Olympus makes me feel more vulnerable than I ever have before.
I sniff. “Of course.”
He watches me. The sun streams in from the balcony, making me see spots, but I don’t look away. I can’t. There’s too much at stake for me to blink.
At last he sighs. “Aphrodite, I am sorry, but I cannot go against my instincts. I love you far too much to let you hurt yourself in such a way. Or allow you to give Ares the chance to hurt you instead.”
He may as well have hit me, too. Slowly I straighten, squaring my shoulders and drawing in every bit of my power. “So be it then,” I say. “If you won’t give me my freedom, then I’ll just have to take it, won’t I?”
I spin around and march out of his office, holding my head high. To his credit, he doesn’t try to stop me, but then again, maybe he thinks I’m too weak to go through with it.
Fine. I’ll just have to prove him wrong, then.
I walk purposely through Olympus as I search for Ares. We don’t have to stay here. We have a right to rule over our own lives, and if we let Daddy win this battle, he’ll keep at it until he wins the war. I love him, but he doesn’t get a say in this. Not anymore.
I find Ares in his chambers. Rather, I don’t so much find him as I hear him from all the way down the hall. He’s yelling at someone, and his voice echoes too much for me to make out the words at first. I hurry to the archway, but I come to a dead stop when I see the scene inside his room.
Everything’s a wreck. His bed is overturned, the silk curtains I hung on his walls have been ripped down and the array of weapons he usually keeps so organized are scattered across the floor. A particularly sharp ax is even buried in the wall, inches from the exit into the hallway.
And standing in the middle of the whole mess are Ares and Hephaestus.
“She’s mine,” Ares bellows, and he thumps his chest with his fist. His rage is palpable, and he glows a faint red. “Not yours, little brother—mine.”
Hephaestus flinches. “You’ve said that,” he says quietly. “But she is not a possession.”
Says the boy who asked his father to give me to him. I snort, and both heads turn in my direction.
“Aphrodite?” says Hephaestus. He steps toward me, but Ares blocks his way with a wicked-looking sword.
“Stay out of this,” says Ares, giving me a look. That same fire is in his eyes, but this passion isn’t for me. It’s for the fight.
“Why, so you two can have it out and decide who gets to marry me instead of letting me choose for myself?” I move toward them, sidestepping a massive shield. “Do either of you actually care about what I want?”
Hephaestus opens his mouth, undoubtedly to claim he does care, but Ares cuts him off. “Now isn’t the time. I will speak with you once I’m through with Hephaestus.”
Ares glares at me, and for once, I don’t flinch. I’ve had enough fighting for one day. If they want to go to war over me, then so be it. I won’t be sticking around to see it, or to give the winner his prize.
“Fine,” I growl, and I turn on my heel and leave. Storming into my chambers, I start to pack. I don’t have many things to take—a hand mirror decorated with pearls that a nymph gave me before Daddy found me, several of my favorite pillows and a reflection of Daddy and me playing on the beach. Even though others shower me with beautiful things, the only items I really care about are the ones with love attached to them—with sentimental value. No matter how angry I am with Daddy, I can’t leave those things behind.
By the time I’m done, Ares is standing in the archway between the hallway and my room, his arms crossed over his broad chest. He smirks, looking disgustedly pleased with himself. The jerk.
“Oh, so you won the battle then?” I say, bitterness saturating every word.
“Don’t be ridiculous. What do you think you’re doing?” he says in that hoarse voice I love. I pause. What am I doing?
“I’m leaving,” I finally say, because it’s the truth. “I’d like for you to come with me, but I won’t demand it.”
He eyes me curiously, as if he’s trying to figure out the puzzle in my words. But there’s no puzzle. He deserves a choice, just like me. “All right then,” he says. “Where are we going?”
With those four words, all of my anxiety vanishes. Grinning, I run to him and wrap my arms around him, showering him with kisses. “I love you so much,” I murmur.
He holds me securely against him, his arms strong and his grip firm, as if he’s never going to let me go. I hope with everything I am that he doesn’t. “Is that a place now?” he teases.
I kiss him again, pouring every last bit of me into it. Words can only say so much, and the way I love him—those words don’t exist. “Home,” I say. “We’re going home.”
* * *
I don’t often talk about my life before Olympus. Or at all, really. There’s no point. I spent most of it on an island with nymphs, who took care of me as if I was their own. But I wasn’t their daughter. I was nobody’s daughter, and no matter how much they loved me, the knowledge that my real parents had abandoned me hurt. Daddy likes to theorize that I didn’t have parents, that I was born from the blood of a Titan, but that only makes things worse. Who wants to exist because someone was in pain?
But one good thing did come out of my childhood: the island. It didn’t have a name when I was growing up, and humans haven’t found it yet, which means it still doesn’t. It’s my safe place, the place I go to think, and the act of taking Ares’s hand and dropping onto the island from Olympus makes me feel more vulnerable than I ever have before.
