The Goddess Test Boxed Set

by Aimee Carter

  “Don’t be ridiculous. If I hadn’t wanted to help, I wouldn’t have,” she said. “Did you get the girl out of there?”

  I shook my head, the pressure of Tuck’s impending fate weighing heavily on my chest. “She’s going to be executed in a few minutes. If I don’t get to her—”

  “Don’t worry about that. I’ve got it covered.”

  I blinked. “Iris, you can’t—you’re already in hot water, and if Zeus finds out—”

  “I don’t care.” But there was a tremor in her voice that said otherwise. “It’ll be worth it if we can save her life. I know Zeus doesn’t care about that kind of stuff, but I do. I’ve met countless mortals, and while some of them aren’t exactly savory, she doesn’t deserve to be executed. And those boys love her so damn much.” She shook her head, her eyes watering. “Don’t bother arguing with me. I’ve already made up my mind. Like you said, I’m the only goddess who puts up with Zeus’s antics, and even if he fires me, he’ll hire me back soon enough.”

  I opened my mouth to protest. With the gods fading, even temporary unemployment wasn’t safe. But before I could say a word, the sky-blue ceiling and sunset floor dissolved, replaced by clouds and rain and the smell of wet dirt.

  The forest. And just beyond it, the serfs, the walls, the village—

  Without giving it a second thought, I kissed Iris on the cheek and bolted down the path. I felt the tug of Mac and Sprout and Perry behind me, but I didn’t have time to celebrate. I pushed my mind forward, searching for any sign of Tuck, and my heart skipped a beat. She was in the town square, by the gallows.

  I raced through the gates and across the dirt road. The square wasn’t very big, with only a few shops surrounding it. Maybe a quarter of the village’s population could fit inside, but I didn’t care about them. I’d blast them aside if I had to, if that’s what it took to save Tuck’s life.

  When I burst into the square, however, it was empty. No sign of onlookers, no executioner—just a stout man dragging a wagon from underneath the gallows.

  I knew what was happening. I knew what the tug that led me to that wagon meant. But even as I shattered into infinite pieces, I ran up to the man and pulled the crude canvas from his load.

  Tuck’s body, pale and still, lay underneath. Someone had mercifully closed her eyes, but I could see them in my mind, glaring at me for something I’d said or done. It would’ve been easy to pretend she was sleeping, if it hadn’t been for the ring of deep purple-and-blue around her broken neck.

  My own body seized, and anger and hurt and grief beyond words ripped out of me. The stout man took one look at me, glowing with fire and the screams of a thousand dead souls, and he ran.

  Tuck. My poor Tuck. How could this have happened? It wasn’t sunset yet. We should’ve had time—it wasn’t supposed to be over yet. I was supposed to have time to save her.

  A shuddering sob escaped me, and I gently cradled her body. I’d failed her. Because of me, she was dead, and I’d lost the one friend I’d had in a very, very long time. That agony and guilt swirled around inside me, compounding my grief for a girl I’d barely known two days. But time didn’t mean a damn thing when it came to love, and as I stood there, rocking back and forth and trying to force the world to right itself, any last ounce of hope I’d had disappeared.

  I don’t know how long I stood there—long enough for shutters to be drawn and the villagers to escape into their homes. They weren’t my targets though, and their fear only made my fury worse.

  “Hermes?”

  Iris’s soft voice brought me crashing back down into myself, and I turned to her. Her face swam in front of me, but even through the tears I could see her concern. “She’s gone,” I choked. “He killed her.”

  Iris wilted, and her eyes grew red. “Oh, Hermes. I’m so sorry.”

  “Can you—” My voice shook. “Can you take her body back to the boys? She deserves a proper burial. I’ll be there as soon as I can. I have something I need to do.”

  Iris reached for my hand. “Hermes…”

  I jerked away from her—an instinct, not because I didn’t want her to touch me. But I was too far gone to apologize, and instead I managed to force out, “Please. I’ll join you in a little while. Just make sure the boys are all right.”

  Wordlessly she nodded, stepping back to give me a moment of privacy. I pressed my lips to Tuck’s cold forehead. “I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I hope you’ve found your happiness, and I swear to you, I will make sure the boys are all right. And I’ll come visit you as soon as I can.”

  But even if I could get away long enough to hunt her down in the seemingly infinite Underworld, mortals weren’t completely there. They didn’t have a sense of time or place, as they did while they were alive, and even if Tuck recognized me, it wouldn’t be the same.

  Didn’t have much of a choice now, and even half a Tuck was better than no Tuck at all.

  After one more gentle hug, I relinquished Tuck’s body to Iris, who lifted her up and started to walk toward the gates. She would protect Tuck better than I had, and she would see to it that Tuck wasn’t buried in the very place she hated. That was all I could ask for now.

  As soon as they were out of sight, I turned toward the castle. I don’t remember walking up to it—one moment I was in the dirt square, and the next I stood in the great hall, glowing with that same fire. A dozen guards surrounded me, but I brushed them aside, storming up to the earl without an ounce of remorse. If they wanted to protect a murderer, then that was their choice. This was mine.

  “You killed her.” My voice was thunderous even to my ears, and the earl’s face drained of all color.

  “You—you ran away, and she wouldn’t give up your location—”

  I grabbed him around the neck, where the pendant that had started this all hung. That bastard. “You killed your own daughter. Do you know what Hades does to people like you in the Underworld?”

  The earl was shaking too hard to reply, and I tore the pendant from his neck.

  “This doesn’t belong to you,” I said. “And neither does this castle.”

  “Y-you—you can’t—” He gulped. “Are you going to kill me?”

  It was tempting. Very, very tempting. But death would be an escape for him, a way to weasel out of his crimes even if Hades did pass judgment against him. He would never be fully aware of what was going on, never feel the guilt and pain of his actions. And I wasn’t feeling very merciful at the moment.

  “Worse,” I said. “I hereby strip you of your title and all your land and property. You are banished from this place, and rather than kill you, I promise you will live for a very long time. But you will not live here, nor will you live anywhere. I curse you to wander for the rest of your miserable life. You will never stay in one place more than a night, you will hunt only enough to survive, and you will never raise a hand against another innocent again. You are no one, nothing, and you will be forgotten by all who know of you.”

  The earl’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. “You can’t do that to me! I’m an earl, appointed by the king himself!”

  “Does it look like I care about your king?” I said. “I am a god, and my word is law. You cannot break it, and it is already done. Now go.”

  I dropped him hard into his chair, and he winced, rubbing the red marks on his neck. They were nothing compared to the marks on Tuck’s. “You think you can come in here and bully me in my own castle?” he muttered, his voice hoarse. “Guards!”<
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  The guards who had previously surrounded me glanced at each other, confused and still pointing their swords. Instead of focusing on me, however, they all turned toward the former earl.

  “Who are you?” said the head guard. “What business do you have in this court?”

  “What are you talking about?” said the earl, dumbfounded. “I am your lord!”

  I touched the guard’s shoulder. “He is nothing—no one, a confused old man who doesn’t know himself. Send him out of the village and on his way with enough food to get him through the night.”

  “Of course,” said the guard, and while the others surrounded the babbling former earl, I turned and walked out of the hall. It wasn’t much, and it certainly wouldn’t bring Tuck back, but it was all I could give her now.

  * * *

  I met up with Iris and the boys shortly after. My feet felt heavy, and every step was a battle, but I clutched Tuck’s pendant, allowing it to spur me on. By the time I arrived, Sprout and Perry were crying over Tuck’s body, now wrapped neatly in silk that Iris must have created, and Mac had finished digging a grave between two trees.

  “Do you think she’d like it here?” said Sprout, his cheeks stained with tears. I knelt beside him and nodded.

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I never meant for this to happen.”

  He hesitated, and just as I was beginning to wonder if he’d hit me, he threw his arms around my neck and hugged me tight. “Don’t be sorry. Iris told us what happened. You did everything you could.”

  I embraced him, and beside us, Perry joined in, as well. He felt even more fragile than usual, and his body radiated heat, but he was alive, and he would be okay. “Thanks for saving me,” he said, resting his head on my shoulder. “I know Tuck would’a been really happy about it, too.”

  “She would have,” I said quietly, and I swallowed. “I won’t always be able to stay with you, but when I can, I’ll be there every second. You’re my family now, and I’ll never let you down again.”

  “We know,” whispered Perry, and the three of us knelt there, simply holding each other.

  At last Mac set his hand on my shoulder, and I released the boys, forcing myself to my feet. “Take care of them,” I said. “And when you’re ready, go back to the village.”

  Mac’s brow furrowed, and though he said nothing, I knew exactly what he was asking.

  “The earl’s gone. You’re in charge now, when you’re ready. I know you’ll be fair to your people, and they deserve a good ruler.”

  His baby face went white, and his mouth opened, but he didn’t say a thing.

  “You listen, and you watch,” I said. “That’s more than most rulers. Always remember who you are and who your people are. Never forget they’re not pawns for your enjoyment. If you do that, you’ll be just fine.”

  He continued to stare at me wordlessly, but I patted him on the back and knelt down beside Tuck. “Come on,” I said, touching her cold hand over the silk. “It’s time to say goodbye.”

  * * *

  Shortly after midnight, Iris and I returned to Olympus. The moment our feet hit the floor, she squeaked and let go of my hand, hurrying off into a hallway. And once my eyes adjusted, I realized why.

  The council was in full session. Perfect.

  “Hermes,” said Zeus dryly. “So glad you could join us as we decide your fate. Please, remain standing.”

  I’d been halfway to my throne when he said that, and I stopped and turned to face the others. They all watched me, some smug, some furious, some indifferent. But none of them looked at me the way Tuck had.

  “Do I get the chance to speak in my own defense?” I said.

  “I hardly see why he should,” said Apollo. “He knew the consequences when he left.”

  And there went all of the goodwill we’d built up in the past day. “Yes, but I know something you don’t,” I said. “I know how to stop everyone from dying.”

  Instantly what few murmurs had been going around the circle stopped. Zeus stood, and even though he tried to hide it, I saw hunger in his gaze. “And how is it you came across this?” he said slowly.

  “That girl you let die—she’s the one I was searching for when I left,” I said. “The Fates guided me to her. I wanted answers, and she’s the one who gave them to me. Not directly, of course, but the things she said…I put them together.”

  Silence. “And?” said Zeus after a long moment.

  “And if I tell you, I want two things.”

  “You will tell us because you are a member of this family, not because we have bribed you,” he growled. It was the first time I’d heard anything other than a neutral tone from him in ages.

  “That’s where you’re wrong,” I said. “Family doesn’t treat their own the way you’ve been treating me since Persephone faded.”

  Across from me, Hades flinched, but I kept going. Couldn’t spare his feelings now, not when it was this important.

  “I made a mistake, a huge one, and I’ve done everything I can to repent. But even though I’m still me, you’ve all treated me like scum ever since, and I’m sick of it. I don’t treat any of you that way—except maybe you, Apollo, but only because I’m jealous of your teeth.”

  No one laughed. I took a breath.

  “Listen. I don’t want any of you to die. I just want to be part of the family again—a real part, not a ‘let’s pretend until we know everything’s fine, then kick him out’ part. I don’t want to be forced to leave you, and I don’t want any harm to come to Iris for helping me. And—that’s about it,” I said, uncertain now that I’d come to the end of my list. “Just treat me better, don’t punish Iris, and we can all figure this thing out together.”

  Zeus stood in silence for the better part of a minute, obviously communicating with the rest of the council silently. I didn’t care. As long as they did the right thing, they could be as petty about getting there as they needed to be.

  At last he cleared his throat. “Very well,” he said slowly. “We accept your bargain and your conditions, but we have one of our own—if your advice does not live up to your promise, you will be immediately banned from the council and stripped of your role as an Olympian and all it entails. Do you understand?”

  I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat. Not as if I’d expected anything less from them anyway. “I understand, and I agree. As long as nothing happens to Iris.”

  “Very well, Iris is cleared of all wrongdoing,” said Zeus. “Now, tell us what you’ve learned.”

  This was the hard part. I stood in front of my throne, not yet daring to sit, and I focused on each and every face. No matter how they felt about me, I loved them, and I couldn’t stand the thought of something happening to one of them. Even if they’d denied me, I would’ve told them.

  “You’re going to object,” I said. “It’s different, and you’re all going to resist. But before you dismiss it, give it a try, and remember the Fates themselves sent me to her.” I hesitated. “We need to change who we are.”

  A confused murmur echoed through the room, and Zeus raised a hand. Everyone fell silent. “Explain, Hermes.”

  I launched into Tuck’s story—everything she’d gone through and why she’d done it. How she’d adapted. What her real name was, how her self-chosen nickname had been a way for her to recreate herself and become the person she needed to be. How she’d changed who she was and what she’d believed and how she’d acted, all for the sake of her new life. And how much that new
life had meant to her.

  “So you’re saying we need to change our names?” said Aphrodite, clutching Ares’s hand. I nodded.

  “But it’s not just that. It’s changing who we are to the world. We depend on mortals, and they depend on us, but they don’t realize that. Most of them are completely unaware. People used to know who we were and what we were doing, and they believed in us. They think we’re myths now though—stories to tell around a fire, not real people. And we need that belief.”

  “Then how do you propose we do that?” said Poseidon.

  “We need to become more than what we are. More than gods and goddesses. More than Olympians. Yet at the same time, we need to become one of them, as well. Live among them, understand them, help them. Stop needing recognition. We need to integrate ourselves and stop being these great deities who are so far above humanity. Yes, we’re immortal, but we feel the same emotions they do. We’re happy, sad, angry, excited—we need to do away with that divide. We need to bleed blood instead of ichor. We need to adapt.”

  “I do not understand,” said Hades quietly. “How would living among them benefit me?”

  “It wouldn’t, not you,” I said. “Your subjects will always be there. They know who you are, at least to an extent. But ours—they believe in other gods now, or only one of us at a time, or whatever the case may be. We need to become those gods. To become these ideas in their minds.” I shook my head. “I know it sounds crazy, but the core of the problem is that they don’t know who we are. And short of exposing ourselves and ruling like kings, we can’t change that. But we can live like—like Rhea.”

  At last a few faces seemed to light up with understanding.

  “She lives among the people. I don’t mean we have to abandon Olympus. We just need to join together with the mortal world and understand it. As long as there are mortals, there will always be love and music and travel, and in order to stay tied to those things as we are now, we must go down to earth and represent them. Everyone we meet will know who we are, even if they don’t know our names, and we’ll ingrain ourselves among them. Bottom line—we cannot hold ourselves above them anymore. We are not better than them, and we must remember that. We depend on them as they depend on us, and it’s time to start acting like it.”