Electric Idol (Dark Olympus #2)(47)

Eris raises a dark brow. “Congrats, I guess. Though, since Aphrodite was conspicuously absent, I don’t like your odds at experiencing a blissful honeymoon period. She’ll be meddling the first chance she gets, and she plays dirty.” She gives a wicked grin. “How long do you give them, Helen?”

Helen smacks her sister on the shoulder, her smile strained. “Can you save the doomsday talk for the day after the wedding, at least?”

“Where would be the fun in that? Things are finally getting interesting.”

I open my mouth, but Psyche beats me to the punch. She leans against me and smiles at the two Kasios sisters. “You’re underestimating Eros if you think Aphrodite can get the best of him.”

Eris opens her mouth, but Helen elbows her and glares. “That’s enough.” She turns a brighter smile on Psyche. “We haven’t gotten to know each other, and I’d like to. I’m having a party next Friday. Both of you should be there.”

“A party.” I feel the way Psyche tenses, but she doesn’t show it outwardly. Still, I can’t help giving her a little squeeze as I say, “I was under the impression you’re under house arrest.”

“And yet I’m standing right here, my house nowhere in sight.” Helen’s smile takes on a mean edge, her amber eyes lighting up. “My brother is getting a little too high and mighty since he became Zeus. We might be related, but he doesn’t own me. If I want to have a reasonable sized group of friends over for some light revelry, I’m going to do it.”

Eris laughs, the sound promising all sorts of trouble. “If it pisses him off, all the better.”

“Don’t act like you’re above doing exactly that!” Helen nudges her sister. “He told you to behave, too, and you spent all yesterday day drinking with Dionysus.”

“I like Dionysus.” Eris shrugs. “He knows how to have a good time, he keeps his hands to himself, and he has the sexiest friends. It’s a win-win.”

As much as I normally enjoy their bickering, I am ready for this part of the event to be over. “We’ll see you next Friday.”

“Good.” Helen loops her arm through Eris’s and tows her sister down the aisle and out the door.

Now all that’s left is the photographer.

Psyche smiles at him, some of the tension bleeding out of her body. Here, she’s in her element. “Thank you so much for attending. I’d like a few staged shots in addition to what you already have.”

He smiles. “Sure.”

I zone out a little as they discuss options. It takes ten minutes before they settle on four shots and then another thirty to get pictures both Psyche and the photographer are satisfied with. He looks up from his camera. “These are great. I can have them cleaned up and to you by tomorrow.”

“Thanks.” I’m already eyeing the exit. How fast can I get my new wife out of here?

Psyche puts her hand on his arm. “It wouldn’t be amiss if you used this moment to your advantage, Claude.” She leans in, smiling sweetly. “If you’re going to sell off one of these photos, use the one at the altar, please.”

He goes a little green around the edges. “I wouldn’t… I didn’t…”

“We know how Olympus works.” She pats his shoulder. It’s a light touch, but he weaves unsteadily on his feet as if it were a right hook. “Just ensure it’s that picture or I’ll be rather upset with you.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he whispers.

“You may go now.”

We watch him practically sprint from the room. I barely wait for the door to close to start laughing. “You’re terrifying.”

“Oh, hush.”

“Truly. You fit right in with your vicious mother and your violent sisters.”

Psyche smacks my shoulder. “I am not terrifying. And let’s not throw stones when your mother took a freaking hit out on me.”

I drape an arm around her shoulders. Not because anyone is watching; simply because I want to. This easy banter between us feels good after the tension of getting all the pieces in place for the wedding. “Can you honestly tell me that your mother has never had anyone killed?”

“I—”

“Honestly, Psyche.”

She glares. “Unconfirmed.”

“Exactly. You have to be at least a little bit of a monster to survive and thrive in Olympus. That goes triply for members of the Thirteen themselves.”

“You’re not wrong, but it’s irritating all the same.” She gives the door a long look. “The upper crust of the city likes to pretend we’re more cultured or refined than anywhere else in the world, but the opposite is true. I mean, look at us. We just got married so your mother will stop trying to have me killed.”

There’s not much to say to that. She’s right. “I know.”

“So, yes, maybe we all have to be a little bit monster to survive this city.” Her eyes dim, a frown pulling at her lips. “Even more than a little bit if I’m going to be perfectly honest.”

“There’s no shame in it.” I stroke my thumb over her bare shoulder. Gods, why is she so soft? Ten years in Olympus, and she still has most of her heart intact. She’s able to mourn the small parts of herself she’s sacrificed to thrive, but the city hasn’t worn her down until she barely recognizes herself. I envy her in that. Maybe I do have some soul left, because I can’t stop myself from trying to chase away the sorrow written across her features. “You’re not one, you know.”