“Who?”
“Oh, I’ve made a few celebrities fall in love at first sight. Some have stayed together, tended to the jewel of love.” He pressed a hand to his heart for effect. “And some have allowed it to fade away. It’s happened over the span of several centuries. Kings. Princes. Milkmaids. Servants. Warriors. Baristas…”
“Baristas? That seems a little random,” I said with a laugh.
“I do enjoy myself a coffee or two from time to time. Spreading love should always begin with a cup of something as delightful as coffee. And I might have tipped the barista with an arrow of love. Which resulted in a first date, an engagement ring and a lifetime of happiness.”
He watched me as he flexed his wings out and took a step away from the rail. I rolled my eyes. He had an ego on him—that was for sure.
“Are you for real?” I asked with a laugh.
He flashed me a sincere smile. “As real as they come.”
Another tacky one-liner. He didn’t seem to miss a beat.
“So I heard there’s a party tonight,” he continued, arching his brow. “Do you and his Lord plan to attend?”
What was it with everyone and this party? I couldn’t walk the boat without being reminded every ten seconds that the ship was party central. It was even less appealing to me the fifteenth time than it was the first hearing about it.
“It doesn’t seem like there’s much of a choice in the matter. I mean, we are on a boat. Enclosed spaces.”
“Well, of course there is, but. . .”
“I’d rather stay in everyone’s good graces,” I replied. “Even more so if I want them to allow me to stay with Darce.”
Eros slowly nodded, pursing his lips. “Understandable.”
“And will you… you know, go?”
“I never miss a masked party.”
Wait. What? “A masked…?”
“Oh yes. There’s always a masked party when Poseidon is involved. He likes to make it out as a game and try to guess who is who. Even more, he likes to try to guess who each of us has dressed up as.”
“So it’s a little like Halloween?” The image of all them dressed up as pop-culture characters seemed pretty entertaining. Until I realized I’d also have to participate.
“I suppose,” Eros chuckled. “And Poseidon always wins too”
“Because you let him win, or because he’s that good?”
I could guess the answer from his silence.
“And who will you dress up as?” I continued, leaning closer to him, interested in his answer.
“I’ve taken a liking to tragic Shakespearean tales as of late, much to my own chagrin,” he admitted. “I’ve thought about going as Romeo.”
I resisted the urge to groan a little. Romeo. Of course. The most romantic character known to the world. The tragic love story between torn families. As I peered at Eros, I realized he would make a handsome Romeo; his almond-shaped eyes and sharp jaw—he was just as dreamy as any Korean-drama actor.
“And who should I come as?” I asked, smirking.
Eros pondered a moment, eyeing me over as I nervously bit at my bottom lip. It was starting to get sore.
“Ophelia.”
“Ophelia?” The name was familiar to me. But I couldn’t quite place it.
“Yes,” Eros continued. “Ophelia. A beautiful noblewoman, loved by the tragic Prince Hamlet.”
“Is that to imply Darce is a tragic prince?”
“Isn’t he?” He asked, raising a brow. “I believe his lord has suffered greatly at the hands of his brother and your mother. I heard much of this from Persephone each time she came back to Mount Olympus. I saw how unfair it was. And then… what happened to her. . .” He paused. “I wasn’t here at the time. But when I heard. . .”
Darce had called it a ceremony once, as he had explained to me what had happened after Persephone hadn’t returned to him. I had been too afraid to ask more at the time. To ask for the details of what exactly this ceremony had been. Now, I felt braver. I had a strange feeling Eros would tell me the truth if I asked. He’d been friends with Persephone after all. Didn’t that sort of make him my friend too? By default? After all, he did say he wanted to be my friend.
“Can you tell me. . . what happened?” I asked. Eros slid a hand over his arm, thoughtfully.
“Something they should all be ashamed of, honestly.”
“I know they took her powers away. They… made her mortal.” Eros turned his sad gaze to me. It was as though he carried both love and heartache in his eyes.
“Yes,” he said with a nod. “They performed an old ceremony. Something many of us had only known as a myth. Zeus performed it upon Persephone, ripping her immortality and her gifts from her immortal form. Just before she died, stole her soul from its powerless shell and slipped it into a small jar. It was given to Demeter, for her to do as she willed.”
“. . .a jar?” I looked at him agape with shock. He was serious.
“It was almost a century later that Demeter came back to Zeus and wished for a mortal daughter. A husk of a human to slip the remnants of her daughter’s soul into.”
“And that’s how she came back?”
“Yes,” Eros said softly. “Demeter wished for her daughter to live normally. Happy. Away from Hades—away from the bond that had been formed between them. Each time she came back, Hades reappeared to claim her. To bring her back to his home in the Underworld.”
A cold shiver ran down the length of my spine. Each time a life had been discovered by Hades, she had only been taken away again. Removed. Killed. The seeds. That much I already knew, but the part about the ceremony? My memory had neglected to manifest that particular thread of film.
“And everyone witnessed this? This ceremony?” I asked, raising my finger, gesturing to all the Gods and Goddesses who I knew were mingling just above us; clinking their glasses behind their perfect smiles. It was no wonder Morpheus hated it on Mount Olympus. I understood now. Eros stared at me and silently nodded.
“All of them?”
He sighed deeply. “Most of them, but it doesn’t matter now.”
“No, it does matter. That was me. That was. . .” my life.
“Like you said,” he began, “You need to keep yourself in their good graces. Bringing it up now. . .” His voice drifted to silence. I understood his meaning. Bringing it up now would do nothing but result in more trouble.
Besides, Darce and I didn’t need any more than what Minthe had already caused.
“What were her powers?” I asked, changing the subject. “What did Persephone do exactly?”
“Her powers?” He repeated thoughtfully.
I nodded.
“Well,” Eros began, “She was considered the Goddess of Spring. While Demeter is the Goddess of the Harvest, Persephone could bring back the flowers after the winter.”
“I am aware of the story,” I interjected. “When she was with… Hades, the world experienced the winter season. When she returned, so did the spring and summer.”
“She could make anything grow,” he explained, with a shine in his eye and an inflection of admiration. “. . .and after she returned from the Underworld, she had the power to summon a similar darkness to his lord. She could comfort those dying. Bring a sort of peace only those nearest to death could understand.”
“How do I get that back?”
“You?” He looked incredulous, as if I had asked him for money to buy ice cream.
“They were mine, weren’t they? If they were Persephone’s powers, they’re mine too.”
“You’re mortal.”
“I know. But… how. . .” I couldn’t hesitate any longer. I needed to know how to fix this and break the cycle for good, without me dying. “How do I become… immortal? Is that even possible?”
Eros’s eyes went wide with wonder and fear. “I… I don’t know.”
“There has to be a way.” I slid my gaze back towards the rest of the boat. “If they had the power to take it away… they must have the power t
o give it back.”
As I peered back at Eros, he raised his brow, slightly amused. “I’m always a firm believer that we, no matter where we go in life, leave pieces of ourselves with our loved ones. Perhaps her power won’t be too hard for you to find, if you know what you’re looking for.”
“I take it then that you’re up for the role of Ophelia then?”
My choice of character would have to make a statement. Eros seemed to understand the choice of dressing as Ophelia would relay a certain message to them—most importantly to Zeus. I would be Ophelia; the woman who had been loved by the tormented prince, and ultimately drowned in a brook, but I would be different than her.
Instead, I would rise.
Chapter 10
“Girl,” Aphrodite said with a smile from over my shoulder. “You look perf.”
I looked up at our reflections in the mirror as they placed another flower in my hair. Aphrodite had weaved a crown of flowers on my head, stringing loose buds through my dark curls. They had thought of everything. Eros had dragged me to his rooms, where to my surprise, Aphrodite had been waiting for him.
“Sorry,” Eros had said, “I thought of my mother the moment I saw you standing out there by yourself. I knew she’d know exactly what to do with you. ”
“Why do I get the feeling this was already planned?”
Aphrodite inspected their nails, playing coy despite the small smile on their face. “I have no idea what you could possibly mean by that. I simply came to see my sweet Eros before tonight’s charades.”
Somehow I had doubted that, and after Eros went into his elaborate idea for costumes, I knew I had been right. Aphrodite went right along with everything the God of Love suggested; their nails long forgotten.
“Let’s get started then.” The Goddess pushed me into a seat and eagerly began to open a large bag full of cosmetics.
It was all I could do to hold back my groan. It was almost like being back in the Underworld with Arae.
A few moments later and I was dressed in an elegant white gown, adorned with lace and silk flower buds. A train of fabric trailed behind me like two delicate waterfalls, one at each shoulder. I had the distinct feeling that it gave my character an edge, as if Ophelia was wearing the water she had drowned in like a cape or a pair of wings.
“Now, for the final touch,” they murmured and lifted a white mask, decorated with golden leaves. As they slipped it onto my face, tucking a curl of hair behind my ear, they smiled.
Just beyond Aphrodite, stood Eros, who was leaning back against the wall. He was already dressed in his costume, a soft blue velvet tunic with slightly puffy sleeves. He looked like he had walked right out of the classic film from the sixties. Through the holes of his silver mask, I could see that he was watching both of us closely.
“What do you think, Eros?” Aphrodite asked, turning around to face him.
“Mitéra,” Eros murmured with a smirk. “You’ve made her look like a Goddess.”
Aphrodite flashed a smile. “Thank the Gods we had the time,” they said, easing back to admire me for a moment more. “Not every Goddess can create miracles.” Eros’ laughter echoed in my ears. I was still amazed to know that Aphrodite was Eros’ parent. Their relationship was so easy, but not at all what I expected between a mother and son. I guess I didn’t really know what I had expected.
“We’re not born the same way as humans,” Eros had explained when I had asked about their connection, looking confused between the two of them. “It is our essence that is created. We’re not confined to genders, ages, nationalities. We just are.”
“Do you change how you appear, too? Just like Darce?”
“If we want to,” Aphrodite said as they flicked their hair over their shoulder. “I must say, I much prefer exactly how I look now.”
“You’re beautiful,” I admitted unabashedly. Aphrodite laughed.
“Oh honey. You’re sweet.”
“She’s right, Mitéra,” Eros said as he took a step forward, pressing a kiss against their cheek. “Beautiful as the day Botticelli made you into Venus.”
“I think we’re all beautiful,” Aphrodite said with a wink. “Now, let’s get you back to Hades before he starts to think you’ve disappeared on him.”
That’s right—Darce. Morpheus.
I had spent countless hours in the seat, enjoying the pampering Aphrodite had given me, that I had almost forgotten about them. I had been so relaxed. Not only had they washed and styled my hair, but they had done my make-up as well. Time had escaped me in-between the care Aphrodite had shown me and the bites of delicious snacks I had snuck when they were delivered to the room. It was like being at an exclusive spa and the whole day had just slipped by without warning. I was honestly surprised Darce hadn’t gone looking for me sooner.
“I told his Lord where you were,” Eros said as if reading my mind. “He said he would meet you on the upper deck.”
Eros flicked back his sleeve, revealing a slick, smooth watch. Like everything on his person, it looked expensive. He touched the screen, bringing it to life on his wrist, and I saw the vague flash of numbers cross its face.
“But we should make our way up,” he said, lifting his gaze back to Aphrodite. “Wouldn’t want to keep them waiting.”
“Ooh, no. Wouldn’t want that now would we?” Aphrodite replied mockingly. “I’ll be along behind you. I have to put myself together, and then I’ll be up.”
Eros nodded, adjusting his mask over his eyes and held out his hand to me. Smiling, I took it gently.
“Thank you again,” I murmured to Aphrodite, “for all of this. I doubt I could have put myself together so well.” Especially without Arae. Not that I would admit that out loud.
Aphrodite waved one bejeweled hand dismissively. “Think nothing of it! Just enjoy yourself.”
With that, we left the Goddess behind to finish up.
I hadn’t been sure how I was going to feel about anyone before arriving. Outside of Arae, Thanatos, and Morpheus, I didn’t know any other Gods or Goddesses. I had been so afraid of coming that I hadn’t considered that I might make friends. Eros and Aphrodite had been a happy surprise. Eros was not only charming and handsome, but seemingly kind and had a fun sense of humor. I liked him.
“The party is going to be a lot,” he warned as he guided me down the hallway. Just above, I could already hear the lively sounds of music and the clinking of glasses, the rumbling tones of laughter and small-talk. My heart started to pound in my chest from my nervousness.
In the moment, all I wanted was to see Darce’s face.
As we rounded the corner towards another set of stairs, I collided with a large, broad chest.
“I’m so sorry,” I quickly gasped, taking a step back. As I lifted my chin, I found myself staring up at another face of a man I didn’t recognize. He was dressed in a burgundy suit, with a smooth, black shirt underneath. His shoulders were built; the fabric of his suit clinging to the muscles on his arms. He had high cheekbones, a narrow nose, and full lips. A golden crown of leaves sat upon his head, while shimmering gold flecks covered his eyelids.
The man appeared to be much older than Eros, Darce and Morpheus.
“Ares,” Eros said with a slight bow. “When did you arrive?”
“Just now,” he said softly, his golden gaze catching mine. My cheeks warmed and I slid my gaze back to Eros.
“Good to see you again,” Eros replied.
“And you,” Ares murmured. “. . .and who is this?”
“This is Summer.” The way he said my name sounded like a secret code. As if he were saying, ‘you should know who this is. This is Persephone.’ Ares’s lips curved into a slight smile. The sort of smile a cat would have, as if it were proud of itself for presenting it’s dead prey.
“Ah,” he said with a firm nod. “Summer. Demeter’s daughter.”
“Exactly,” Eros affirmed, snapping his fingers. Ares reached for my hand, drawing it up towards his lips. They were smooth and cool as h
e pressed a kiss against the back of my hand. I suddenly felt nervous. He was absolutely, without a doubt, more intimidating than Zeus.
“Y—you’re the God of War,” I managed to say, before drawing my hand away from him, sliding it behind my back.
“Yes, I am.” He chuckled. It was deep, but it came naturally to him. Light, even. I half expected him to grunt or shrug to feign humor, but here he was. Laughing—sort of.
Eros leaned forward, brushing an invisible fleck of dirt from Ares’ shoulder.
“We’re off to the party now, Ares. But do join us later. And don’t come as yourself. You know how Poseidon finds that to be such a bore.”
Ares flashed a smile, before gazing back at me.
“I’ll think about it,” he replied before stepping out of the way. “But by all means, enjoy yourselves.”
As he moved forward, my stomach twisted in on itself. There was something about him; something unsettling, but I couldn’t figure out what it was. Yet, maybe I was being paranoid. After all, he was Aphrodite’s lover and the Goddess didn’t strike me as someone with bad taste in men. That had to mean something, right? Twisting my hands, I peered at Eros nervously.
“I imagined him differently,” I whispered when I knew we were well out of earshot. My lungs suddenly felt freer—like I could actually breathe again.
“How?”
“I don’t know,” I replied, shaking my head. “A Viking, maybe? Covered in tattoos and scars. Long ponytail, like a Khal…or something.”
“Dothraki? I love it,” Eros grinned. “I’ll have to remember that one next time he ticks me off.”
“I just meant, he doesn’t look the way I thought. None of you do.”
“Did you think he was always at war?” Eros asked with a chuckle. “Splattered blood on his face, screaming ‘Sparta!’?” I shrugged.
“Did you feel the same way when you first met Hades?”
I snorted, recalling the memory. “I really thought he was some crazy, lost tourist. He was far from what I imagined…” I paused. “Though now, I can’t imagine anyone else.”
“The art of love,” Eros replied. “This is why I believe there is hope for everyone. Even at our worst, someone will find the beauty within us.”
Gilded Ruins Page 9
