Fates and Furies (The Sphinx Book 4)

by Raye Wagner

  Hope’s knees gave out, and she would’ve slid to the floor without Xan to support her.

  “Careful, lass,” he whispered. But even his whisper echoed down the empty hall, disrupting the heavy silence.

  “You will wait here,” the goddess said, and then she disappeared.

  “Bloody gods,” Xan muttered. He eased Hope to the ground and sat beside her on the cool marble. “Are you doing any better?”

  Xan traced over her face gently with his fingertips, and Hope stared him in the eyes. His pupils came into focus first, then his irises. By the time she nodded that she was doing better, she was better. Her hand went to her stomach, and the skin was smooth and tight. “Finally.”

  Xan sat back with a sigh. Shaking his head, he said, “You gave me a scare. I think I aged a hundred years in those few minutes. I told you to not get gored.”

  Now that it was over, and she was better, it was easy to joke about. “I didn’t know how to make sure the knife stuck. I threw the first one, but . . .” She shrugged. “I knew I couldn’t miss the second.”

  Xan grimaced. “That tusk went right through you. All the way. I wasn’t sure you would pull through.”

  “I killed it, didn’t I?” She felt some vindication in killing the animal that had gored her. Granted, if she weren’t immortal, she’d be dead, too.

  He glowered and shook his head. “It was a test. That’s all. Once the Chimaera and the boar were downed, they disappeared. Along with the weapons.”

  Only a test. That stung her pride. But still, they’d passed, even if it wasn’t with flying colors, and they were on Olympus.

  “Who’s the goddess who brought us here?”

  Xan rubbed his hands up and down his arms where goosebumps showed on his exposed flesh. “No idea, but she’s a piece of work. She kept demanding I leave you for dead afore you woke up. And if you could’ve seen the look on her face when you opened your eyes . . .” He ran his hand through his hair. “She does not like you.”

  Well, that narrowed it down. Hope picked at the frayed hole in her shirt. The edges had been saturated but were now crusty and hard with her own dried blood. Her jeans were shredded down the left side, and she put her hand to the back of her head to discover her hair was also matted with blood. “I’m a hot mess.”

  Xan’s chuckle was warm and comforting. “You’re a bloody hot mess, luv.” He leaned forward, wiped his thumb across her forehead, and kissed where he’d wiped. “I’m glad you’re all right.”

  The air shifted in the hall, and palpable power emanated from behind Hope. She didn’t want to look to see which god was there. She just wanted one more moment before the next catastrophe hit.

  But Xan’s pupils dilated, and he scrambled to stand. Anguish etched over his features, fine lines forming around his eyes as he grimaced with the torment of seeing what she had not. He balled his hands, and the tension climbed up his arms. “You will not harm her.”

  Hope jumped up, spinning to face the next foe. Her vision swam and then solidified on the god of the sun.

  Apollo stared at her, his lips set in a grim line as his gaze traveled the length of her body. Extending an open palm, he waved at her. “What is this?” He clenched his teeth and shifted toward Xan. “Is this your doing?”

  Xan’s features were granite, and he met the god’s gaze with icy determination. “Nay, Lord. It is the Olympians. We were met by the Chimaera and the Erymanthian Boar.”

  Apollo stepped forward and grabbed her shirt. “And this?”

  Xan continued to stand tall as he faced the god’s wrath. “She was gored.”

  The vehemence transcended language as Apollo swore. Pushing Xan aside, Apollo ran his hand over her abdomen as he lifted the hem of her shirt to examine her wound.

  Hope instinctively jumped away from his touch.

  “You need never fear me, Hope,” the god of the sun said. “I’m very pleased to see—”

  Thunder reverberated through the hall, and Ares appeared. Wearing green cargo pants, a black tank top, and cargo boots, he looked like he was ready to run an army relay. His lip curled into a vicious sneer as he stared down the other god. “Little brother, are you chasing skirts?”

  Apollo clenched his jaw. “Ares.”

  The god of war pushed Apollo and Hope to the side and grabbed Xan’s shoulder. “Son,” he growled. “I thought I made myself perfectly clear at our last meeting.”

  “Yes, Father. You did.” Xan was only an inch or two shorter than Ares, and they were equally built. But Xan was not a god.

  “Then tell me . . .” Ares circled his son like a shark. Stopping behind Xan, Ares gripped his son’s shoulder, and Xan grimaced as Ares drove his thumb into the nerve. He then leaned in and asked, “Why are you here?”

  “Stop!” Hope couldn’t take it. She reached for Xan, tugging on his arm until Ares released him. “He’s here for me. If you’re going to be angry, be mad at me. It’s not his fault.”

  Xan gasped with relief and wrapped his arms around Hope’s waist.

  The god of war pushed Apollo to the side and stepped up to Hope. “Do you think it right to command him?”

  Command him? Hope opened her mouth to tell the arrogant god of war exactly what she thought, but Apollo slid in between them, his broad back to her.

  “Don’t even think about it,” Apollo warned. He scooted to the side, exposing Xan. “Deal with your own how you see fit, but leave mine alone.”

  Ares’s gaze went from Apollo to Hope to Xan. “Right.”

  With a meaningful glance at Hope, Ares secured her attention. He took two steps, until he was back in front of his son, all the time looking at her. His eyes glinted with malice, and with lightning speed, he drove his fist into Xan’s stomach. Before the demigod had time to cry out, the two of them disappeared.

  “No,” Hope screamed. She turned and twisted, looking down the hall to see if she could find them. But the hall was empty. So she ran. Down one end then the other, listening for any sound that might tell her where Ares and Xan had disappeared.

  “You won’t find them,” Apollo said. The god leaned against the alabaster wall, his golden skin a sharp contrast to the marble. “He may not even be on Olympus anymore.”

  “How do I get him back?” she pleaded. It wasn’t right for Xan to be punished because of her. “What do I need to do?”

  Apollo pushed off from the wall and closed the distance. Standing over her, he asked, “Haven’t you done enough?”

  The words were more painful than the boar’s tusk. Hope sank to the ground, the weight of what she’d done sinking into her heart. “I didn’t mean—”

  The goddess with the green eyes reappeared. She was holding a fluffy white robe, which she extended toward Hope. “My dear girl.”

  Apollo eyed the goddess warily. “What are you doing here?”

  She frowned, and her hand fluttered at the base of her neck. “Whatever do you mean, talking to me that way? Don’t you think it is fitting that I welcome Hope to Olympus? After all,” she said, narrowing her gaze until her vibrant eyes were as hard as emeralds, “I’m the queen here.”

  Hera. Of course, it was Hera.

  “May I take you to a room, my dear? Help you clean up?” Hera frowned as she looked at Hope. “You look quite dreadful.”

  Hope looked from Apollo to Hera, trying to gauge any warmth, any sincerity, or even a modicum of genuine concern. But Hope’s head was a jumbled mess. Her thoughts raced, mostly about Xan. Whatever she’d hoped to gain by coming to Olympus felt like an impossible, childish dream. “Can you take me to Xan?”

  “Ares is brutal, but he won’t kill his sons,” Hera said with a meaningful look at Apollo.

  It was a small reassurance but seemingly the only one Hope would get.

  Hera shook the robe. “Let’s go, child.”

  Hope didn’t know what else to do. Sagging with exhaustion and defeat, she acquiesced. For all she knew, Hera was going to take Hope somewhere and kill her. “Okay.”

/>   Apollo cleared his throat. “I will come looking for her, Hera, so be sure you keep her safe. I will not take kindly if so much as a hair on her head is damaged further. Your involvement has already been noted, and I will speak to Zeus if I even think you’re planning her harm.”

  With the words of Apollo hanging between them, Hope’s fear of imminent death waned. Looking up into the face of her torturer and savior, she said, “Thanks.”

  Hope could feel his gaze as she followed Hera down the hall.

  “Don’t think that because Apollo has a vested interest in you that you’ll be safe here,” Hera said without even glancing back at Hope. The goddess turned, and suddenly a corner and hallway materialized. She continued walking down the hall that hadn’t existed just seconds ago.

  Hope tried to keep a map in her head. But as she hurried to keep up with the goddess, Hope noticed that with every turn, the previous hall disappeared. When she looked behind her, there were no turns, only one long hallway.

  Hope stopped the next time Hera turned. The goddess disappeared around a corner and poked her head back to glare at Hope. “I don’t have all day to entertain you, so please be respectful of my time. We’re almost there.”

  Hera raised her hand and beckoned Hope. The goddess’s flowing chiton swayed with the movement.

  Hope felt like she was slogging through mud but did her best to catch up.

  As soon as they were walking tandem again, Hera continued her monologue. “He’s a fickle god, Apollo is, with a short memory. He bores easily, too. You might’ve caught his eye, but don’t think there is anything lasting.” Hera threw the words behind her, like tossing scraps to a dog. “I would hate to see you get hurt.”

  Not for a single second did Hope believe Hera’s words. But to tell Hera she was a liar at this point would be rash stupidity. Instead, Hope pressed her lips together and followed demurely behind the queen of Olympus.

  Hera stopped in front of a heavy wooden door. The glossy lacquer gave the details painted on the wood a bizarre life-like appearance, and Hope stared at the image of the peacock with its tail feathers in full display.

  Hera pushed the door open and turned to Hope. The goddess wrinkled her nose and, with a contemptuous sniff, said, “I suggest you take a bath first. I’ll have food brought to you shortly. And then I think we should talk.”

  Without waiting for Hope’s response, Hera left, disappearing around another magical corner.

  With a sigh of frustration, Hope stepped into the room.

  Everything was pristine white. Long, gauzy curtains billowed from the open windows, and Hope crossed the monochromatic room to look outside. Of course, it made perfect sense that they were atop a mountain, and there was an ocean view from the window. The sun was starting its descent, the glowing orb heavy with its light and heat, sinking slowly over the horizon. Waves crashed onto the deserted beach, the pale sand shimmering in the late afternoon rays.

  With a deep breath, Hope faced the expansive space. The bed reminded her of her bed at the conservatory, all white linens, only the pillows here had no accent color. Just more and more white. The marble walls were without adornment, with the exception of the threads of silver and gray that ran through the rock. Almost the antithesis of the Underworld in appearance.

  The bathroom was large and luxurious with a soaker tub separate from the multi-jet spray of the shower. Hope washed the grime from her body, the water turning a dark burgundy as the blood disappeared down the drain. If only her problems could wash away as easily.

  After wrapping a towel around her body, she examined her tattered clothes. They were ruined, for sure, but miraculously, the silver case from Hephaestus was still in the back pocket of her jeans. She dropped the tattered pieces of cloth into a bin and, setting the silver case on the desk, went to find something to wear.

  She found undergarments in a drawer of the dresser, but the only clothes she could find were long dresses in the closet. Hope had never been one for dresses, but apparently the gods had a preference for them, so she slipped a chiton over her head, belting it with a piece of golden cord hanging with the traditional Greek dress. The green fabric was a shade lighter than Athan’s eyes and incredibly soft. Fingering the sleeve, Hope’s thoughts went to the son of Hermes. His laughter, his love, his unwavering support. Even in the conservatory, he’d tried to help her. Her heart ached for him, and she hoped Hermes was keeping him safe. She had to believe that he was.

  Her thoughts then went to Xan, and fear and helplessness seized her.

  A knock startled Hope from her reverie, and she rushed to answer the door.

  “A light supper, miss?” A young satyr stood at the entrance of the room, holding a silver tray. His muscled chest rippled as he held out the heavy platter, his hooves clicking on the marble floor. Dark horns poked through his shaggy brown hair, which matched the hair on his lower extremities.

  Despite the fact that she’d been changing into a Sphinx her entire life, seeing another mixed breed, part man, part goat, was startling. She opened her mouth to say something and then shut it. Would it be rude to ask about being a monster? Did they call them monsters here on Olympus? The scent of meat, rosemary, and yeasty bread wafted into the room, and Hope’s thoughts fled. She reached for the tray and simply said, “Thank you.”

  She wanted to close the door and devour everything on the platter. Chunks of beef swimming in gravy were ladled over golden mashed potatoes. There was a side of roasted vegetables and crusty rolls with butter dripping down their sides. Her mouth watered in anticipation, and then her heart skipped a beat. “Will the food do anything to me? Like in the Underworld? Will it bind me or change me?”

  The satyr frowned. “You think we would poison you?” He pointed at the food. “Feeding you is considered an expression of gentility. Hera must hold you in regard, or you wouldn’t be here.”

  Shame made her blush. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m not used to kindness from the gods.”

  It was a gross understatement but true nonetheless. She stepped back into her room and headed toward the desk.

  She could feel the satyr’s studious gaze on her. Hope set the tray down, and seeing the satyr waving to her, she returned to the door, her nerves fraying with every step. “Yes?”

  “A word of caution.” The satyr looked down the hall both ways before continuing. With wide eyes, he whispered, “Don’t confuse etiquette with kindness.”

  Without waiting for her response, the creature left, the clopping of his hooves echoing even after he’d disappeared around a corner.

  The warning dampened her appetite, but after the first few bites, Hope didn’t care if she was being poisoned. The seasoned beef was fork-tender, practically melting in her mouth, and the rich gravy was hearty enough to be a meal with the potatoes. She ate until her stomach protested, and she collapsed back into the white chair with a sigh.

  In less than a second, guilt swept in. Xan was still here. Somewhere. With his father. Gods, Ares had seemed so angry, too.

  She stood and crossed the room, the need to find Xan now paramount to all else. She pulled the door open to start her search and froze.

  Hera stood in the hall, her features pinched in displeasure. When her gaze met Hope’s, the goddess schooled her expression into a bland smile. “Are you going somewhere?”

  “I . . . I wanted to go see Xan.” It sounded like a petulant request, and Hope mentally kicked herself. Yes, she wanted to be nice, but she needed to know Xan was safe, and there was nothing wrong with being loyal to her friend. Hope straightened, squaring her shoulders. At that moment she noticed she was the same height as the goddess. Somehow, the fact Hera couldn’t look down on Hope made her feel a little better.

  Almost as though hearing Hope’s thoughts, Hera pursed her lips and tossed her auburn curls over her shoulder. She shifted, blocking the doorway. “You can’t see him right now. We need to talk.”

  Fine. Hope needed to fulfill her obligation to Hades, and there wasn’t g
oing to be a good time to broach the subject. Pushing her anxiety about Xan to the side, and hoping that angering Hera wouldn’t ruin any chances to break the curse, Hope took a deep breath. With a sweep of her arm, she invited Hera in.

  “Did you get enough to eat?” Hera asked, indicating the tray. She glanced around the room and then glided toward the empty tray.

  “Yes,” Hope said, following closely. “Thank you.”

  Hera stopped at the desk and held up the slender silver case. “What is this? Is this yours?”

  Stupid. Hope should’ve hidden it somewhere. “It’s a . . . sewing kit, from . . . my uncle . . . on my dad’s side.”

  Gods, she was a terrible liar.

  Hera raised her eyebrows. “Really? Why don’t you show me?”

  Hope grabbed the case and popped it open.

  Seeing the instruments, Hera’s suspicion disappeared, and she curled her lip. “You need a needle threader? You must be quite dreadful.”

  Hope thought of the failed sewing project from the conservatory and nodded.

  “Yes, sewing is definitely not one of my talents,” she said and snapped the kit closed.

  Hera walked away from Hope while she spoke. The queen of Olympus settled in one of two upholstered seats in front of the white brick fireplace and waved for Hope to join. Without so much as a glance in Hope’s direction, Hera pushed a button on the mantle, and flames filled the hearth.

  Like in the Underworld, Hope felt like she was playing a game. A game of infinite rules, and she was ignorant of them all. The fire licked and lapped at the wood. The air warmed, and Hope wanted to push her seat away.

  Hera crossed her ankles and stared into the live flames. “Why are you here?”

  “I want to break the curse. I don’t think it’s right that Apollo should get to decide who I love, marry, or have a family with.”

  Hera frowned. “You don’t think it’s right?”

  Was she even being serious? “Would you be okay with Leto determining your choices?”

  “How dare you!” Hera was out of her seat, grabbing the front of Hope’s chiton and shaking her. “Don’t come into my home, eat my food, and then insult me in such a degrading manner. Leto is nothing more than a whore, you imprudent, selfish, girl.”