“Why do you ruin the wine, Hera?” Cronus asked, his shrewd gaze on my chalice.
“She prefers hers more watered down,” Bronte explained. Her response was so quick and smooth that I again questioned if her memory was indeed intact.
Cronus gave a skeptical “hmm.”
Bronte beamed at him, unconcerned by his suspicion, then the second he looked away from her, she winked at me.
Stars, she was herself.
Everyone raised their cups, and I locked gazes with Theo. I didn’t know what the magical draught would do to me should I ingest it. I could only hope that I had correctly guessed his hint about playing dead.
“To family,” Cronus said.
As he tipped back his head to drink, Zeus launched off the altar and grabbed him around the throat.
“Althea, now!” Zeus cried.
I squeezed Cronus’s nose shut and threw the contents of my cup in his face. He sputtered and reared back. It was too late. Some of the magical draught had gone down his throat.
Zeus let him go. Cronus hunched forward, bracing against the altar, and started to gag. Decimus ran forward, but Zeus grabbed him by the throat and lifted him off the ground in one motion. Decimus dangled from his grasp, his hands gripping Zeus’s forearms.
Cronus sank to the ground, coughing and grasping at his throat.
I picked up the adamant sickle. “You say you did this for your family, but you weakened us to protect yourself. That isn’t sacrifice, that’s selfishness.”
Cronus lay on his belly, panting, his cheek pressed against the floor. Sweat poured from his face and neck. The wings on his forearm began to flap as though they were moths in a bottle trying to escape. I touched one set with the tip of the sickle, and they flapped harder.
Bronte joined me, standing over Cronus as he writhed on the floor. She sent me a sly grin. “Mnemosyne’s brainwashing didn’t work on you either?”
“Never got the chance to find out.” Mnemosyne had said that some people weren’t affected by her, but it had been too much to hope that my sisters would be among them. I peered down at the beating wings on Cronus’s arm. “Perhaps the rumor that he ate his children wasn’t a complete lie. Maybe he consumed their Titan strength.”
Bronte raised an eyebrow. “Could it be that simple?”
Cronus groaned. Bronte stood on his hand, pinning his arm to the floor. I lowered the pointy end of the sickle and punctured the first set of wings. They fluttered harder, like a bird caught in a cat’s claws. I dragged the blade up his arm, slicing through the other four pairs. The wings flapped so hard they began to peel off his skin and rise. The first two took off, out of the palace. The third sped at Cleora and dived into her chest. She jolted as a golden light burst out of her, then the light dimmed, and she collapsed. Theo caught her as she sank and he laid her on the floor.
Another pair of wings sailed at Bronte. As her flash of golden light went out, she crumpled. I reached out to catch her, but the last pair of wings rushed into me.
My vision filled with luminance. I hit the ground, pain a distant thought, my senses shrouded by the tingling light radiating from me. Through the glimmering, immobilizing fogginess, I saw soldiers file into the throne room and aim their swords at Zeus. He put down the general and backed away. Zeus and Theo were surrounded, my sisters passed out. The Erinyes waited above, watching for the opportune time to swoop down and grab Theo.
Sickle in hand, Cronus started for Zeus. He swung the blade at him, and Zeus ducked. Cronus punched him, and Zeus slammed into the wall, where Cronus pinned him. Thunder boomed overhead.
“There will be none of that, son.”
I watched, still numb, as Cronus picked Zeus up and threw him across the room. He crashed through the exterior wall and landed outside in the gardens. He tried to push himself up but slumped back down again. The sky began to clear, and Cronus, still armed with the sickle, went to finish him.
An Erinys swooped down for Theo, her scourges lashing at him. He ducked low over Cleora’s unconscious body. The Erinys missed and began circling back.
I needed to get up, but exhaustion dragged me toward a far-off light. Coming into my Titan strength all at once was like trying to drink from a waterfall. My eyes began to close, my body sinking toward the golden glow. A humming filled my head, and within it, the barest of whispers.
Rise.
The voice pierced me to the core.
Rise.
Louder this time, scattering my fogginess. My vision cleared, and I pushed up. Cronus was headed for the opening in the wall, stalking Zeus, who still hadn’t gotten up.
I pushed to my feet, woozy and winded. “Cronus!”
He rotated toward me in astonishment. “You shouldn’t have the strength to rise yet.”
“You should be so lucky.”
The God of Gods started for me, blood streaming from the incision on his forearm. A murkiness fringed him, a sort of vapor—the shape of his soul. I couldn’t quite make it out. My vision was still fuzzy, as though I had stared into the sun too long.
“Bitch,” Cronus growled. “How did you figure out that the sickle could release your strength?”
“Adamant cannot destroy gods; it can only weaken them.” In one sense, all mortals resembled gods—their souls could be displaced but not destroyed. Death was circumstantial. The soul lived forever.
Across the throne room, the Erinyes swooped down at Theo. He stood over Cleora, warding them off with his sword.
Cronus swiped at me with the sickle. I evaded and punched him in the chest. It felt instinctual, like a long-time dream fulfilled. He flew backward across the room, landing on the steps of the dais.
I gaped at my hands. I had strength.
The soldiers cowered. None of them, not even Decimus, dared to come forward and test my new abilities.
An Erinys picked Theo off the ground and began carrying him out of the palace. I leaped higher than I had ever imagined I could and knocked us all into the wall. The Erinys let go of Theo, and we fell to the floor in a heap.
He groaned, out of breath but lucid.
I pushed to my feet as Cronus rose too. Only . . . he was growing, and the sickle grew with him. Cronus’s head almost touched the ceiling, but despite his immense size, he floated weightlessly above the floor. The God of Gods roared, sending the Erinyes scattering.
“Do you know the benefits of being a first-generation Titan?” he asked, grinning with his sharp teeth. “Invincible strength.”
He flew at me, catching me by the throat with his free hand. We slammed through the wall and rose steeply into the sky. A blur of scenery streamed past. The ground gave way to the sea, and then we rose into the firmament. We passed the clouds and through midheaven until the atmosphere resolved into an inky-blue chasm studded with diamond stars.
“I am the first and the last ruler of the Titans,” Cronus snarled, strangling me with one of his huge hands. “I command the heavens and earth. My domain knows no bounds.”
“Not. My. God,” I rasped. “Not. My. Ruler.”
I pried myself from his hold and bit down on his forearm. He howled and loosened his other hand’s grip on the sickle. I wrenched it away and flung it out to space. One second, it was hurling toward the far-off moon, and the next, it was gone.
“You witless wretch!” Cronus grabbed me by the shoulders. “That sickle is worth more than your soul!”
“More than two hundred silver pieces?”
Cronus shook me hard.
That’s when I saw them—his wings.
They were not physical. They were smoky extensions of his gloomy soul. Black and feathery, they protruded from his back and expanded to twice the width of his Titan form.
“I can see the shape of your soul,” I said, hardly believing it myself. “You’re like a black vulture, remorseless and vindictive. Menacing and cruel.”
“Careful, Hera. You’re describing yourself. Just as half my soul came from my father, half of your soul came from me.”<
br />
According to Cronus, my own soul was a winged lion, part him and part Rhea.
But I was wholly me.
Cronus sneered. “You think you’re a goddess? Then bring me the stars.”
He tossed me away, spread his horrible wings, and took off for the earth.
I spun, reaching for anything to hold on to, but there was nothing solid in the starry abyss. I neither slowed nor picked up speed, merely tumbled end over end into the void. Earth fell farther away as I entered a forest of stars. Their brightness flooded past me, leaving trails of glittering dust in their wake. Uranus promised I could command the heavens . . . I reached for a single white star and plucked it out of the endless night.
Cradled in my palm, its radiance tingled.
Still spinning out to nowhere, I closed my eyes.
Breathe.
I didn’t want to be my mother or my father or anything anyone told me I had to be. I just wanted to be me.
Warmth coursed through my core. The light that had beckoned me earlier returned, its luster outmatching the sun. A pressure inside me unfurled, spread out behind me, and lifted me up. The speed of my free fall slowed, and my body righted itself.
Opening my eyes, I found myself hanging weightless among a constellation of four stars, suspended by golden wings, extensions of my soul, tawny like a lion’s coat, but feathery too. I had never seen anything more me.
I flapped my wings on instinct and propelled myself forward. Soon, I hovered over the earth. Clutching the star to my chest, I dived with my wings tucked in behind me, dropping through a clear blue sky. Before plummeting into the sea, I threw my wings open and soared over the waves, rising back up the steep mountainside to the city.
As I approached the palace, I spotted the Cretan warriors battling the liege men outside and spilling over into the palace. My chest swelled at seeing the tribe escaped from the slave traders and fighting for their Boy God. Euboea shouted orders at her troops, and the warriors held their ground, their gold velos flickering in the sunlight like flames.
Theo fought with Decimus, their swords clashing. The Erinyes were nowhere in sight.
I soared over the battle into the throne room. Zeus was on his back with Cronus on top of him, crushing his windpipe. I dived down and smashed into the Almighty, throwing him across the room. I landed on the dais with my wings outstretched.
The walls and floors were pockmarked with scorched patches. Fires burned in the corners among piles of rubble, and smoke escaped through new holes in the ceiling. Bronte and Cleora were still passed out. Zeus didn’t get up, but Cronus lumbered to his feet.
“I see you’ve accepted your wings, Hera.”
“You could say that.” I held up the burning light in my hand. “Here’s your star.”
I pitched it at him. The star hit the ceiling above him and exploded in a glittering majesty of radiance, brilliant particles of red, pink, blue, and violet. Stone rained down on Cronus while I scooped up my sisters, draping one and then the other over my shoulders. He caught a large piece of the falling ceiling and hurled it at us. I was thrown backward, dropping Bronte and Cleora along the way, and smashed into his throne. He lifted a fallen column and shoved it across my throat, pinning me.
“Stavra said you would be my downfall. She thought too highly of you, of all women. You’re weak, every one of you. You think with your hearts.”
“We love, and love isn’t weak,” I wheezed. “She knew you were unworthy.”
“Stavra was a whore. She wouldn’t weep. It took twenty-three days of bedding her morning and night for her to break. Her tears tasted sweeter than nectar.”
I shoved upward against the column as hard as I could, but I was breathless, my strength failing.
“So weak.” Cronus tsked.
Darkness crept in. I saw stars again, but these were of no use to me.
A bank of thunderheads roiled overhead. Cronus looked up as a lightning bolt struck the column across my throat, cracking it apart and throwing Cronus off me.
Out of the dust and rubble, Zeus appeared and lifted me to my feet.
“You can fly, Althea? Or is it Hera? I don’t know what to call you now.”
“That’s easy. Just call me ‘goddess.’”
He picked up a velo that one of the warriors had dropped, and offered it to me. I put it on and stood. Together, we turned to face the God of Gods.
Cronus hovered, his wings fully extended. He hefted another column, resting it over his shoulder in preparation to swing.
Zeus opened his hand, and a lightning bolt hurtled down to it from the thunderhead. He cast it at Cronus like a spear. The Almighty struck the lightning bolt with the column, redirecting it back at us and flinging us sideways. Zeus and I crashed through columns and landed in a heap on opposite sides of the room from each other.
Cronus laughed, a darkly delighted sound. “Is that the best my children have to offer? Neither of you is worthy of my throne.”
I started to get up, but he slammed me across the back with the column. Jagged fragments of lightning bolts sizzled around me. I tried reaching for one, but my fingertips fell shy.
Another voice spoke nearby. “Father?”
Cleora stood to his side, fists raised. Gossamer insectile wings spread from her back, their iridescent sheen threaded with comblike veins. She launched off the floor in a mighty leap and punched Cronus across the chin.
“That’s for hitting Althea.”
The Almighty spun from the impact, only to find Bronte waiting on his other side. Her wings were reptilian, with leathery skin, well-defined veins, and talons at the widest tips. Dragon wings. She smacked Cronus’s face with the sharp end of one, producing an earsplitting crack.
“That’s for making Cleora wear yellow,” she said.
Cronus stumbled to the side, gripping his jaw.
“Yellow really is my worst color,” Cleora agreed.
Cronus glared at her. “Your loyalty is fickle, Hestia.” He picked up a sharp shaving of lightning bolt and slammed it into her chest. Cleora crumpled over, the spike of light protruding from her torso. Bronte fell to her knees beside her in horror.
Alighting, I sped at Cronus and slammed into him, hurtling us through the wall of windows. Holding him, I shot us upward, far above the city and the sea, higher and higher, past midheaven, until we were back in the vault of stars. He grappled with me for control, the two of us spinning as I shoved back, aiming us for the sun. The increasing heat began to singe my wings as I propelled us closer, as close as I dared.
Cronus twisted around, forcing my back toward the solar flares. “Do you really think you can overpower me, Hera? The whole world trembles at my name. You will be known only for the gods you align with and the Titans who take you into their bed.”
“There’s one other thing I’ll be known for.” I plucked a star from the firmament; its brilliance fit perfectly in my palm. “Don’t ever cross me.”
I shoved the star into Cronus’s mouth, then thrust him around and pushed with all my might. He tumbled backward, toward the sun, plummeting into the blinding light.
As swiftly as possible, I dashed back to the palace. The throne room was a disaster, the structure crumbling. The highest tower that housed the great hall teetered. The warriors and soldiers paused upon my arrival. When Cronus did not also return, Euboea called for the soldiers’ surrender.
Theo held a disarmed Decimus at sword point. I landed, ripped off my velo, and grabbed Decimus by the front of his shirt.
“Revoke the curse,” I growled.
Decimus tried to tear free, but I gripped him harder and lifted him off the ground, locking him in the same hold he had used to capture my mother all those years ago.
“Revoke it,” I repeated. “Or I will abandon your worthless hide on the moon, and you will die a slow, agonizing death alone.”
“I revoke my curse,” he sputtered.
The scar on the back of my neck burned so hot it turned icy, then the sensation abated.
I touched it, and the skin had become smooth, his tag gone.
I let go. Decimus fell to the ground, coughing, his armor clanging. Blood spilled from his lips and trickled down his chin. The harder he tried to breathe, the more he choked. He rolled onto his side, gurgling, and stared up at me. Bloody tears trailed from his empty eyes. The curse had claimed him.
The lower palace began to crumble, and the tower wobbled precariously. Everyone began to run for shelter. Bronte and Cleora half stumbled, half flew out of the throne room, Cleora injured but upright.
Bronte shouted at me as they fled. “Zeus is still inside!”
The base of the tower cracked, and it began to drop in on itself, right on top of the lower floors. I flew inside and found Zeus trapped under a wall. Together, we lifted it off him, then I grabbed him up and we shot through the falling rubble, landing in the roadway outside the palace gates. The raining debris spread out into the city in clouds of stone and dust.
“I think,” Zeus panted, “I think I landed more hits than you.”
“Not this time, Boy God.”
Cronus’s black vulture landed nearby and hopped over to Decimus’s body.
I searched the sky for the Almighty, but instead, I spotted the fleeing Erinyes, with Theo caught in their scourges. I flew up to them, blocking their path.
“Put him down, you shadowy plagues,” I ordered.
The Erinyes hissed at me in chorus.
The sky around us darkened. Storm clouds rumbled. On the ground below, Zeus summoned a bolt of lightning with a colossal boom.
“Theo Angelos honored his oath to the throne,” I said. “Our thrones. Release him.”
The Erinyes hissed louder.
Zeus raised his jagged spear of lightning threateningly. The Erinyes lowered Theo to the ground and recalled their scourges, hissing the whole way. Theo collapsed to his knees, breathing hard. I helped him up as they took off into the sky.
Across the way, the warriors rounded up the liege men, and Euboea dictated the terms of surrender to Brigadier Orrin.
Bronte and Cleora supported each other, standing among the rubble. Cleora’s chest wound was a bloody mess, but she would heal. With the two of them safe, I leaned against Theo, and he wrapped an arm around me. At our feet was the fallen palace gate, the section with the alpha and omega symbols.
Wings of Fury Page 26
