Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 107826 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 539(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107826 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 539(@200wpm)___ 431(@250wpm)___ 359(@300wpm)
Weak as it is, I’m wearing one of Adonis’s old shirts, its fabric soft and faded from so many washings. It doesn’t smell like him anymore—it hasn’t in years—but it’s my favorite thing to put on when I’m feeling off-center. If I was stronger, I wouldn’t telegraph how much I need the comfort, but they found me curled up in the shower, so it’s pretty obvious how not okay I am.
Everything about this situation makes me feel strange. I take small bites, mostly to keep Adonis from pestering that I need calories, but my mind is abuzz with the events of the last day.
I held it together through sheer grit today. Every loud sound or quick movement after the attack had me fighting down a flinch. I’ve been at home in this city from the moment I was born, and for the first time, it feels like it is the enemy instead of a longtime friend. Worse, I don’t see a way through this.
The cat is out of the bag regarding the assassination clause. We can’t cover it up, and it’s obvious that giving people something to gossip about isn’t enough to distract from the temptation of claiming a spot on the Thirteen for themselves. The public might not actively hate us right now, but a quick scroll through MuseWatch gave the surreal impression that they’re looking at the attempted assassinations as entertainment.
I can’t hate them for it. This is the culture the Thirteen created and fostered. We’re reaping what we’ve sown. Even as they root for us or against us in turn, they won’t condemn the assassins entirely.
I hope Perseus has some ideas during the meeting tomorrow…because I don’t.
To distract myself, I look at the men. Hephaestus glares at the table like it said something insulting about his mother. Adonis eats in the precise way he does everything, never a bit of energy wasted. They sit next to each other at the bar, so close that their shoulders brush regularly, and there’s a…
I stare.
No.
Surely not.
I must be imagining things. There has to be a reason my husband and my ex are so comfortable in each other’s presence when they have every reason to hate each other. If I’d been in my right mind, I would have noticed it before. Hephaestus has reason to be here, but Adonis doesn’t. Not unless he was called. Not unless Hephaestus called him.
But why would my husband call my ex for help?
Unless…
I take a long drink of my water and set the glass carefully on the counter. “So, how long have you two been fucking?”
It’s a testament to Adonis’s training that he doesn’t sputter or get flustered. But I’ve known this man the better part of my life, and I know his tells. They’re there in the way his shoulders shift the barest amount; it’s not enough movement to be called a flinch, but on him it might as well have been a shout from the rooftops.
Hephaestus doesn’t have the same training, but he’s not trying to cover it up. He leans back slowly, meeting my gaze. “Since last night.”
I don’t expect the blast of pain to my chest. It’s so sudden, I actually lift my hand as if I can rub it away. I forgot, for a moment, that we’re on opposite sides of a war that is both personal and political. I forgot we’re enemies. Fool. “Well, then.”
“Get that look off your face, Wife. Where were you last night?” He rises slowly. “You know the game we’re playing.”
“A game.” Adonis pushes his food away from him. “I see.”
I watch in something resembling horror as Hephaestus actually flinches. “No. That’s not what I mean.”
“It’s what you said.”
“Godsdamn it, you know I stick my foot in my mouth more often than not. Did last night feel like a game to you?”
If I had any doubts about it before, I don’t now. This is a lovers’ quarrel happening in my kitchen. I take a step back and a hysterical laugh slips free. “Right. Of course. Well, congratulations to both of you. I’m sure you’ll be very happy together.”
Adonis finally looks at me. For the first time since he arrived, he’s absolutely furious and not trying to hide it. “No, you don’t get to do that. You married another man.”
“And you fucked him. Guess we’re even.” I’m not being fair. I know I’m not being fair. I don’t give a fuck. What I’ve done, I did for this city. Adonis doesn’t have that excuse. He must have done it simply to hurt me. Or, worse in some ways, he did it because he wanted to. Because he’s already moved on.
Can you really say that you only care about Pandora because of the purpose she’ll serve?
I’m a hypocrite, but I don’t care. There’s no way they just randomly fell into bed together. Just like that, the pieces click into place. My husband’s miraculous bounce back in the public eye, the way he’s seemingly effortlessly switched to the doting cuckold. In the space of twenty-four hours, the write-ups stopped frothing at the mouth to see who I’d sleep with next and started talking about how sad my poor, loving husband is while he waits at home for me to return. I thought it a strange coincidence, but it’s no coincidence at all.