* * *
Several nights later, Zeus stormed into our chambers. “What did you do?”
The joy he’d emanated since Ares’s birth was gone now, replaced by waves of anger that would have frightened any reasonable person. He was, after all, King. But I was Queen, and this war was between equals.
“What do you mean?” I said with mocking innocence. If he was going to dare grow angry with me for protecting the council’s interests, for protecting the fairness and equality upon which we’d all agreed, then he was going to have to confess to breaking the most important promise he’d made me. To breaking his vows.
His face went from pink to red to a shade of purple that couldn’t possibly be natural, and lightning encompassed his clenched fists. “You know what,” he finally said in his thunderous voice. “Leto’s been in labor for days.”
“And she’ll remain in labor for a very long time,” I said, cradling Ares as he slept. Odd how my anger affected him, yet he barely batted an eye at his father’s fury. “I hardly see why it matters to you. Your son is right here.”
“Do not play these games with me,” he snarled. “You will undo whatever it is you did immediately.”
“What could I have possibly done, and why would I have done it?” I brushed a lock of Ares’s hair from his eyes. Such a beautiful baby. He deserved so much more than the father he had.
Lightning cracked outside the balcony, mere feet away from where we lay. If Zeus thought his threats would frighten me into complacency, he was sorely mistaken. At last, however, his shoulders sank, and he reached out for me. “Hera, my love, I’m so sorry. I made a grave mistake—”
I slapped his hand away. “From what I’ve heard, you’ve made several mistakes. How many mistresses have you had since we married?”
His brow furrowed. “Just one. Just Leto—”
“Liar.”
He squeezed his eyes shut, as if he were in pain. “Hera, please—”
“I will not sit here and listen to your lies.” I stood, and in my arms, Ares made a small sound. “You may either lie and go or stay and tell the truth. If you want any chance of me helping your precious Leto, I’d suggest the latter.”
“I’m loyal to you,” he said, his voice breaking. “To you and only you. The others, they’re nothing—”
“If they are nothing, then why did you bother with them in the first place?”
“Weakness. Opportunity. I wasn’t thinking—”
“That much is obvious.”
“Hera, please.” Zeus stood and moved toward me, but I backed away. “They’re innocent children.”
“So is Ares, yet before a week’s passed, you’ve forced him to face his father’s infidelities and lies.” I walked to the curtain that separated our chambers from the hallway. “I won’t help you or Leto. As far as I’m concerned, our marriage is over.”
“Then so is your role as my queen.”
I stopped, and the darkness spun around me. I clutched Ares to my chest. “My title has nothing to do with our marriage.”
“It has everything to do with our marriage, and you know it.”
“You can’t strip me of our partnership—”
“If you dissolve our marriage, I can and I will,” he said in a dangerously soft voice. “I’ve made mistakes. I won’t make them again. All I ask for now is your forgiveness, and that you not take your anger out on the innocent.”
“Because of you, none of us are innocent.” My eyes watered, and I gazed down at my son. My title or my pride. That was the choice he was forcing upon me. All I’d worked for, all I’d done for the council—or having to stand beside a god who had lied to me about everything.
Our whole family must have known. Certainly Poseidon and Demeter, and Demeter wouldn’t keep something like this from Hestia. Though not Hades. Hades would have told me—
I’d chosen wrong. I should’ve waited. Hades would’ve never done this to me. I should’ve listened to him, to my sister, to my conscience—but I’d been blinded by Zeus’s promises and my pride. I’d thought I could change him. Clearly I’d been wrong. And now the whole council would suffer for me.
No. I wouldn’t allow everything we’d worked for to fall. No matter what Zeus seemed to think, we all had equal say on the council. And as long as those twins never arrived, as long as he never had the chance to place them among us, then he was still only one voice.
“I will remain with you,” I said thickly, staring at our son. My son. “I will not forgive you, but I will stay. And in return, you will never see those children or that woman again.”
Silence, followed by soft footsteps as he moved toward me. “And you will allow her to give birth?”
“I will relieve her of her burden.”
He set his hand on my back, the heat between us hotter than the hottest forge. “Very well. I am and have always been yours.”
I turned away from him and stepped into the corridor. “No, you haven’t,” I whispered, and before he could tell me any other lies, I hurried away, heading for my sister.
* * *
For the next three days, I waited for news. I avoided my duties both to the realm and to Zeus, wanting to give him a taste of what it would be like to rule without me. Perhaps in the early days he could’ve handled it on his own, but now the realm was far too big for any one person to rule without things slipping through the cracks. Eventually he would discover just how much he needed me.
I remained with Demeter, sleeping in her chambers and wandering the earth beside her, showing Ares the beauty of the world. He seemed to enjoy it, gurgling and turning his face toward the sun. I avoided the lake where I’d helped the injured bird, knowing that if Zeus wanted to find me, that was the first place he would look. And I would not be fooled by him again.
“It’ll get easier, you know,” said Demeter as we wandered across a white sand beach, searching for shells for Ares. “Eventually the hurt and anger will fade.”
“But things will never be the same again,” I said bitterly. “I will never be as happy as I was, believing his promises.”
“Happiness is a choice, sister,” she said, plucking a piece of coral from the sand. “You have a beautiful baby who loves you nearly as much as you love him. Isn’t that enough reason to find joy in the world?”
“Sometimes. Most of the time. But there’s a piece of me that will always remain shriveled because of what his father did.”
“Then hide it away and never let it be seen, not even by yourself. Focus on the good, and eventually happiness will come as easily as—”
“Hera.”
Zeus’s voice cut through the ocean breeze, and Demeter fell silent. I stiffened. Finally. “I have no interest in seeing you today,” I said without turning around. “Go.”
“You did it, didn’t you?” He grabbed my shoulder and yanked me around. “You sent that serpent after Leto—”
“I told you I would relieve her of her burden,” I snapped, jerking away from him. Ares began to cry. “It isn’t my fault you interpreted it the way you did. But it is your fault that you ever put her and those children in that situation to begin with. Consider their deaths to be on your hands.”
He set his mouth in a thin line. I expected anger born out of grief and anguish, but I only saw frustration. “That’s where you’re wrong,” he said quietly. “They survived. And you will never find Leto again.”
No. Impossible. I stared at him, horrified. Demeter set her hand on my
shoulder, but even she couldn’t comfort me now. “And the twins?”
“They have joined me in Olympus,” said Zeus, and he may as well have squeezed my heart until it was nothing. “When they are older, they too will join the council. Effective immediately, Athena will move to Olympus to help me care for them, and she too will join our ranks.”
Athena, Aphrodite, the twins. Four more voices to echo Zeus.
That was it, then, We’d lost. I sank to the ground, rocking Ares as he cried, but my thoughts were anywhere but on that beach. It was only a matter of time before Zeus overthrew my sisters and me entirely.
I didn’t know how long I sat there, the sun shining down on me and the waves crashing to shore only a few feet away. Demeter remained by my side, and eventually Ares calmed, but I couldn’t find the same peace no matter how hard I tried.
“It’s over,” I whispered long after Zeus departed. “The four of them and Poseidon will follow Zeus’s every word.”
“You don’t know that for sure,” murmured Demeter. “Perhaps they will think for themselves. Athena has a good head on her shoulders, and I can’t imagine her being swayed from something she believes in.”
“She hates me for replacing her mother. She’ll never vote with me on anything, especially against her father.”
Demeter hesitated. “Even then, perhaps Aphrodite—”
“She’s his favorite.” The words stuck in my throat, and I had to force them out. “She’ll agree to anything so long as he loves her the most.”
She ran her fingers through my hair. “The end of time hasn’t come yet. There are still plenty of opportunities to have children and even the numbers.”
“He won’t touch me now. He’ll know I’m up to something. Even he isn’t dumb enough to believe I’d forgive him so quickly.”
“Then wait,” she murmured.
“We don’t have time to spare.”
Demeter sighed and kissed my hair. “It will work out. I promise you, everything will be all right.”
I turned away. After all the broken promises I’d endured from those I loved, her words didn’t mean anything to me anymore. “Even if he discards his current mistresses, it’ll only be a matter of time before he takes another.”
“That’s true,” she said slowly as the waves lapped our ankles. The tide would force us to move soon. “People don’t change.”
Or Zeus didn’t, at least. “What then? How many more illegitimate children will he have?”
“I don’t know,” she said softly. “As many as he wants, I suppose.”
“And meanwhile, he’ll leave me with only Ares. I’ll never have daughters, I’ll never have another son. Unless—”
I stopped. Of course. Why hadn’t I thought of it before? It would be almost too easy, using Zeus’s weakness against him, and with patience—
“Unless what?” said Demeter. I didn’t answer. “Hera, unless what?”
At last I faced her again, unable to help my grin. “Unless I trick him. Unless I play him like a fool the same way he’s played me.”
She frowned. “You’re miserable enough as it is. Why put yourself in the line of fire all over again?”
“Because when he takes another mistress—and he will, we both know he will—I’m going to make sure it’s me.”
* * *
I roamed the beaches every night for a season. Demeter watched Ares for me, and though we planned an elaborate story if Zeus ever checked in on me, he never did.
I didn’t expect it to work. I hoped, and I used my abilities as much as I dared to entice him to come to me, but in all my planning, I never truly thought I would win.
But at last, as the full moon shone down on my changed form, I saw him. He stood framed by the trees in the distance, his hair tickling his shoulders in the breeze, and for a moment I nearly forgot why I hated him. Whether he recognized me or not, I couldn’t tell, and I held my breath as he slowly made his way across the sand toward me.
“Hello,” he murmured in a voice he’d never used with me. “What’s your name?”
Relief swept through me, as palpable as the golden ichor in my veins. He didn’t know me. And at last, for the first time in months, I smiled at him.
“Hephaesta,” I murmured. “My name is Hephaesta.”
* * *
Our affair lasted one night, but that was all I needed. I never returned to the beach, and whether or not he came looking for his new mistress, I didn’t know. He never showed any signs of distress in Olympus. Then again, I’d been nothing more than a fling to him, and if he truly fell in love with my disguise, then he was a greater fool than even I’d suspected.
My belly grew round as time passed. I made no effort to hide it, and though Demeter reported whisperings and gossip from the other gods, I didn’t care. Whether they knew it or not, this was a legitimate child. What they thought didn’t matter.
At last, on the morning I gave birth to my second son, Zeus confronted me. I rested with the baby in my bedroom, and he stormed in, startling my peacock into flight.
“What did you do that for?” I said, sighing as the bird took off from my balcony. “We were having a nice chat.”
“I’m sure you were.” He slammed his fist on the wall so hard that they must’ve heard it on the other side of Olympus. “Who is he?”
“Who is who?” I said innocently, turning my attention back to the baby sleeping soundly in my arms. “You mean him? This is my son.”
“I do not mean the baby,” he said through clenched teeth. “Tell me who your consort is.”
“My consort?” I tilted my head in what must have been an infuriating show of ignorance. “You’re my consort, dear husband. Or have you forgotten? It certainly would explain quite a lot, wouldn’t it?”
“Enough,” he thundered, and before I could blink, he snatched my son from my arms and stormed to the balcony. The baby started to sob. “I will not be treated this way. I will not be disrespected by my own wife. I will not be played a fool in front of my subjects and my council—”
“Your council?” I scrambled to follow, but my empty body was too exhausted and sore to move as quickly as my son’s cries demanded. “It is our council, or have you forgotten that, too?”
“Do not toy with me,” he snarled, and he stood on the edge of the balcony, balancing my crying son precariously in one arm.
“Give him back.” I reached for him, but Zeus sidestepped me. “Zeus, he’s a baby, he needs me, give him back—”
“Artemis and Apollo were babies, too, when you sent a serpent to kill them.” Zeus shifted until the baby was over the edge with nothing but sky below him. “Shall we discover if you whored yourself out to a mortal?”
Icy terror filled me, extinguishing the blaze of my burning anger. “Zeus, no—you can’t—”
“You are my wife. You swore fidelity to me. You are the goddess of marriage, and yet you stain the institution with—with this abomination.”
“He’s not an abomination—”
“I will not have him in Olympus as a constant reminder of your infidelity.”
My face grew hot. “What about your infidelity? Your lies, your cheating, your whores—why should you be spared the anguish of having to see my son when I must look into the eyes of your bastards for the rest of eternity?”
The breeze that blew in from the balcony shifted into a chilling wind, and lightning crackled. “Is that what you think of our family?”
“Your family
,” I spat. “Not mine. They will never be mine.”
“And this—thing is?” He glanced at the baby, who was now crying so hard that his face was turning purple.
I rose to my full height. My son was not a thing. He was a person who deserved Zeus’s respect and love, though I’d long since discovered he wasn’t capable of giving, either. “He’s more of a family to me than you will ever be.”
I didn’t think he would really do it. Zeus may have been a cheater, he may have been a liar, but he’d never physically harmed someone who hadn’t wronged him first. But as I watched, helpless to stop it, the baby slipped from his arms and plummeted to the earth.
The edges of my vision turned red, and any lingering affection I had for Zeus vanished. “You will pay,” I whispered in a murderous voice. “I cannot kill you, but I will find a way to destroy you. You have my word.”
Zeus scoffed, though for the briefest of moments, I thought I saw a flicker of doubt hidden underneath his arrogance and pride. “You brought it on yourself, bearing a bastard in my palace.”
“He isn’t a bastard.” Stepping back, I shed my normal appearance and turned into the girl he’d found on that moonlit beach. “His name is Hephaestus, and he would have been your son.”
In the space of a single heartbeat, recognition flickered in Zeus’s eyes, and far too late, he reached into the empty sky. “But—”
“Now he will have no father. Not when the one he has tries to murder him. When I return, the entire council will know what you did, I promise you that. And unlike you, Zeus, I keep my word.”
Before he could respond, I disappeared. I had to find my son before he did.
Landing on the side of a mountain, so high up that I could see the sea in the distance, I listened. The wail of the wind nearly covered his cries, but nothing in the world, not even Zeus himself, could keep me from my son.
I found him among a bed of sharp rocks, sobbing and squirming against the bitter cold. Though he was immortal, his legs stuck out at an odd angle, and he sobbed as if he were in real pain.