“It isn’t her fault,” said Demeter. “I’m certain Zeus lied to her. Even if he didn’t, this is a choice he made. She didn’t seduce him.”
“I don’t want to hear it.” I stood on shaky legs. “I must go. Watch after him while I’m away.”
She opened her mouth, but before she could say a word, she seemed to think better of it. At last she nodded. “Do what you must. I love you.”
“I love you, too, sister. Thank you for telling me.”
And with that, I exited the room, determined to do whatever I had to in order to stop this atrocity.
* * *
Several nights later, Zeus stormed into our chambers. “What did you do?”
The joy he’d emanated since Ares’s birth was gone now, replaced by waves of anger that would have frightened any reasonable person. He was, after all, King. But I was Queen, and this war was between equals.
“What do you mean?” I said with mocking innocence. If he was going to dare grow angry with me for protecting the council’s interests, for protecting the fairness and equality upon which we’d all agreed, then he was going to have to confess to breaking the most important promise he’d made me. To breaking his vows.
His face went from pink to red to a shade of purple that couldn’t possibly be natural, and lightning encompassed his clenched fists. “You know what,” he finally said in his thunderous voice. “Leto’s been in labor for days.”
“And she’ll remain in labor for a very long time,” I said, cradling Ares as he slept. Odd how my anger affected him, yet he barely batted an eye at his father’s fury. “I hardly see why it matters to you. Your son is right here.”
“Do not play these games with me,” he snarled. “You will undo whatever it is you did immediately.”
“What could I have possibly done, and why would I have done it?” I brushed a lock of Ares’s hair from his eyes. Such a beautiful baby. He deserved so much more than the father he had.
Lightning cracked outside the balcony, mere feet away from where we lay. If Zeus thought his threats would frighten me into complacency, he was sorely mistaken. At last, however, his shoulders sank, and he reached out for me. “Hera, my love, I’m so sorry. I made a grave mistake—”
I slapped his hand away. “From what I’ve heard, you’ve made several mistakes. How many mistresses have you had since we married?”
His brow furrowed. “Just one. Just Leto—”
“Liar.”
He squeezed his eyes shut, as if he were in pain. “Hera, please—”
“I will not sit here and listen to your lies.” I stood, and in my arms, Ares made a small sound. “You may either lie and go or stay and tell the truth. If you want any chance of me helping your precious Leto, I’d suggest the latter.”
“I’m loyal to you,” he said, his voice breaking. “To you and only you. The others, they’re nothing—”
“If they are nothing, then why did you bother with them in the first place?”
“Weakness. Opportunity. I wasn’t thinking—”
“That much is obvious.”
“Hera, please.” Zeus stood and moved toward me, but I backed away. “They’re innocent children.”
“So is Ares, yet before a week’s passed, you’ve forced him to face his father’s infidelities and lies.” I walked to the curtain that separated our chambers from the hallway. “I won’t help you or Leto. As far as I’m concerned, our marriage is over.”
“Then so is your role as my queen.”
I stopped, and the darkness spun around me. I clutched Ares to my chest. “My title has nothing to do with our marriage.”
“It has everything to do with our marriage, and you know it.”
“You can’t strip me of our partnership—”
“If you dissolve our marriage, I can and I will,” he said in a dangerously soft voice. “I’ve made mistakes. I won’t make them again. All I ask for now is your forgiveness, and that you not take your anger out on the innocent.”
“Because of you, none of us are innocent.” My eyes watered, and I gazed down at my son. My title or my pride. That was the choice he was forcing upon me. All I’d worked for, all I’d done for the council—or having to stand beside a god who had lied to me about everything.
Our whole family must have known. Certainly Poseidon and Demeter, and Demeter wouldn’t keep something like this from Hestia. Though not Hades. Hades would have told me—
I’d chosen wrong. I should’ve waited. Hades would’ve never done this to me. I should’ve listened to him, to my sister, to my conscience—but I’d been blinded by Zeus’s promises and my pride. I’d thought I could change him. Clearly I’d been wrong. And now the whole council would suffer for me.
No. I wouldn’t allow everything we’d worked for to fall. No matter what Zeus seemed to think, we all had equal say on the council. And as long as those twins never arrived, as long as he never had the chance to place them among us, then he was still only one voice.
“I will remain with you,” I said thickly, staring at our son. My son. “I will not forgive you, but I will stay. And in return, you will never see those children or that woman again.”
Silence, followed by soft footsteps as he moved toward me. “And you will allow her to give birth?”
“I will relieve her of her burden.”
He set his hand on my back, the heat between us hotter than the hottest forge. “Very well. I am and have always been yours.”
I turned away from him and stepped into the corridor. “No, you haven’t,” I whispered, and before he could tell me any other lies, I hurried away, heading for my sister.
* * *
For the next three days, I waited for news. I avoided my duties both to the realm and to Zeus, wanting to give him a taste of what it would be like to rule without me. Perhaps in the early days he could’ve handled it on his own, but now the realm was far too big for any one person to rule without things slipping through the cracks. Eventually he would discover just how much he needed me.
I remained with Demeter, sleeping in her chambers and wandering the earth beside her, showing Ares the beauty of the world. He seemed to enjoy it, gurgling and turning his face toward the sun. I avoided the lake where I’d helped the injured bird, knowing that if Zeus wanted to find me, that was the first place he would look. And I would not be fooled by him again.