Electric Idol (Dark Olympus #2)(7)
The people chose Demeter, and she’s never let my mother forget it.
“It won’t be long before the next scandal hits. Just be patient.”
“You don’t tell me what to do, Son. I give the orders, and you obey.” She stops in front of me and glares. “This is your mess. If you’d done the last job properly, you wouldn’t have been photographed with that girl.”
“Mother.” I don’t know why I’m arguing. Once my mother goes on a rampage, it’s all but impossible to divert her. It’s one of the reasons people step so carefully around her. Even I have to step carefully around her. She might present our relationship to the public as adoring mother and loyal son, but the truth is far less appealing. I am Aphrodite’s knife. She tells me where to go, what revenge to exact, and I follow along like a fucked-up toy soldier. My input is never asked for and sure as fuck never heeded. I told her that we needed to wait to deal with Polyphonte instead of rushing into things the night of that party, but Aphrodite pushed the subject.
She always pushes the fucking subject.
“Her heart, Eros. Do not make me ask again.”
I swallow back my irritation, but only barely. “You’re going to have to be more specific, Mother. Do you literally want her heart? Do you have a silver box all picked out for it? Maybe you can stick it on your mantel next to my graduation photo.”
She makes a sound suspiciously like a hiss. “You are such a little shit.” This is the Aphrodite she doesn’t show anyone else in Olympus. Only I get the dubious privilege of witnessing what a monster my mother truly is.
But then, I’m not one to throw stones on that subject.
I don’t see a single scale or fang.
I nearly flinch at the memory of Psyche’s soft voice. I really thought she was smarter than that; she’d have to be a fool to move in nearly the same circles I have for ten years and not call me a monster.
I make a show of turning off my phone screen and giving my mother my full attention. “You’ve decided on this course of action, so don’t be shy now.”
Another person would flinch in the face of my mild tone with the threat of violence threaded beneath it. Aphrodite just laughs. “Eros, darling, you really are too much. After that stunt Demeter pulled last fall with her other daughter and Hades, she really thinks she can bypass me completely and set up Psyche as the next Hera. Over my dead body. Or, rather, over hers.”
My chest goes strangely tight, but I ignore it. “If you’re so furious at Demeter, then do something about her, rather than the daughter.”
“You know better.” She flicks that away with her fingertips. “Both mother and daughter need to be taught a lesson. Demeter has been throwing her weight around, thinking she’s anything other than a glorified farmer. This will bring her down a notch.”
Only my mother would consider the death of a child to be bringing someone down a notch.
But then, she’ll do anything to maintain her power. Aphrodite is responsible for a number of things, but her most popular task is arranging marriage between the rich and elite within Olympus. The Thirteen and their families, yes, but also those in the wider circle of influence that never quite make it into the parties at Dodona Tower.
With Demeter inching in on her territory, it’s no wonder my mother’s head is about to explode. She arranged all three marriages for the last Zeus—the fucker kept killing off his wives, which suited my mother quite nicely as she loves a wedding and hates everything that follows. Securing a new Hera for the new Zeus is her top priority, and it seems like Demeter is determined to launch Psyche into the position of Hera without consulting Aphrodite.
I try to picture it, but my mind rebels at the thought. All I can see is the line of concentration between Psyche’s brows as she bandaged me up. Surely someone foolish enough to show kindness to the son of their enemy is the same kind of someone who will be eaten alive in the position of Hera.
I clear my throat. “How’s Zeus doing these days? Does he not like any of your eligible options?” Up until a few months ago, he was Perseus, but names are the first thing sacrificed at the altar of the Thirteen. Once upon a time, we were friends, but Olympian life has a way of forcing people apart. The older we got, the more Perseus became embroiled in training to become the next Zeus. And me? Well, my life took an equally dark path. We’re still friends, I guess, but there’s a distance there that neither of us can quite recover. I don’t even know where to begin to try.
I let the thought drift away. Perseus has been Zeus’s heir for his entire life. He knew he’d take the title when his father died. If it happened a bit earlier than anyone expected…well, he’s more than capable of handling it. It’s not my problem. It can’t be my problem. After all, I didn’t kill the man.
“Don’t change the subject,” she snaps. “Ever since Persephone ran off and shacked up with Hades, Olympus is unbalanced. Now Demeter thinks she’s going to pair up another daughter with another legacy position? What’s next? Marrying off that feral older daughter of hers to Poseidon?” She huffs. “I think not. Someone needs to check Demeter, and if no one else will step up, then we’ll have to.”
“You mean I’ll have to. You might be demanding a heart, but we both know that I’m the one doing all the work.” I have no desire for someone to start calling for my head, so I try to keep the murders to a minimum. It’s so much easier to remove an opponent with a well-placed rumor or simply observe them until their own actions provide the ammunition for their downfall. Olympus is filled to the brim with sin, if one believes in that sort of thing, and no one in the Thirteen’s shining circle is without their fair share of vices.