The council was in full session. Perfect.
“Hermes,” said Zeus dryly. “So glad you could join us as we decide your fate. Please, remain standing.”
I’d been halfway to my throne when he said that, and I stopped and turned to face the others. They all watched me, some smug, some furious, some indifferent. But none of them looked at me the way Tuck had.
“Do I get the chance to speak in my own defense?” I said.
“I hardly see why he should,” said Apollo. “He knew the consequences when he left.”
And there went all of the goodwill we’d built up in the past day. “Yes, but I know something you don’t,” I said. “I know how to stop everyone from dying.”
Instantly what few murmurs had been going around the circle stopped. Zeus stood, and even though he tried to hide it, I saw hunger in his gaze. “And how is it you came across this?” he said slowly.
“That girl you let die—she’s the one I was searching for when I left,” I said. “The Fates guided me to her. I wanted answers, and she’s the one who gave them to me. Not directly, of course, but the things she said…I put them together.”
Silence. “And?” said Zeus after a long moment.
“And if I tell you, I want two things.”
“You will tell us because you are a member of this family, not because we have bribed you,” he growled. It was the first time I’d heard anything other than a neutral tone from him in ages.
“That’s where you’re wrong,” I said. “Family doesn’t treat their own the way you’ve been treating me since Persephone faded.”
Across from me, Hades flinched, but I kept going. Couldn’t spare his feelings now, not when it was this important.
“I made a mistake, a huge one, and I’ve done everything I can to repent. But even though I’m still me, you’ve all treated me like scum ever since, and I’m sick of it. I don’t treat any of you that way—except maybe you, Apollo, but only because I’m jealous of your teeth.”
No one laughed. I took a breath.
“Listen. I don’t want any of you to die. I just want to be part of the family again—a real part, not a ‘let’s pretend until we know everything’s fine, then kick him out’ part. I don’t want to be forced to leave you, and I don’t want any harm to come to Iris for helping me. And—that’s about it,” I said, uncertain now that I’d come to the end of my list. “Just treat me better, don’t punish Iris, and we can all figure this thing out together.”
Zeus stood in silence for the better part of a minute, obviously communicating with the rest of the council silently. I didn’t care. As long as they did the right thing, they could be as petty about getting there as they needed to be.
At last he cleared his throat. “Very well,” he said slowly. “We accept your bargain and your conditions, but we have one of our own—if your advice does not live up to your promise, you will be immediately banned from the council and stripped of your role as an Olympian and all it entails. Do you understand?”
I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat. Not as if I’d expected anything less from them anyway. “I understand, and I agree. As long as nothing happens to Iris.”
“Very well, Iris is cleared of all wrongdoing,” said Zeus. “Now, tell us what you’ve learned.”
This was the hard part. I stood in front of my throne, not yet daring to sit, and I focused on each and every face. No matter how they felt about me, I loved them, and I couldn’t stand the thought of something happening to one of them. Even if they’d denied me, I would’ve told them.
“You’re going to object,” I said. “It’s different, and you’re all going to resist. But before you dismiss it, give it a try, and remember the Fates themselves sent me to her.” I hesitated. “We need to change who we are.”
A confused murmur echoed through the room, and Zeus raised a hand. Everyone fell silent. “Explain, Hermes.”
I launched into Tuck’s story—everything she’d gone through and why she’d done it. How she’d adapted. What her real name was, how her self-chosen nickname had been a way for her to recreate herself and become the person she needed to be. How she’d changed who she was and what she’d believed and how she’d acted, all for the sake of her new life. And how much that new life had meant to her.
“So you’re saying we need to change our names?” said Aphrodite, clutching Ares’s hand. I nodded.
“But it’s not just that. It’s changing who we are to the world. We depend on mortals, and they depend on us, but they don’t realize that. Most of them are completely unaware. People used to know who we were and what we were doing, and they believed in us. They think we’re myths now though—stories to tell around a fire, not real people. And we need that belief.”
“Then how do you propose we do that?” said Poseidon.
“We need to become more than what we are. More than gods and goddesses. More than Olympians. Yet at the same time, we need to become one of them, as well. Live among them, understand them, help them. Stop needing recognition. We need to integrate ourselves and stop being these great deities who are so far above humanity. Yes, we’re immortal, but we feel the same emotions they do. We’re happy, sad, angry, excited—we need to do away with that divide. We need to bleed blood instead of ichor. We need to adapt.”
“I do not understand,” said Hades quietly. “How would living among them benefit me?”
“It wouldn’t, not you,” I said. “Your subjects will always be there. They know who you are, at least to an extent. But ours—they believe in other gods now, or only one of us at a time, or whatever the case may be. We need to become those gods. To become these ideas in their minds.” I shook my head. “I know it sounds crazy, but the core of the problem is that they don’t know who we are. And short of exposing ourselves and ruling like kings, we can’t change that. But we can live like—like Rhea.”
At last a few faces seemed to light up with understanding.
“She lives among the people. I don’t mean we have to abandon Olympus. We just need to join together with the mortal world and understand it. As long as there are mortals, there will always be love and music and travel, and in order to stay tied to those things as we are now, we must go down to earth and represent them. Everyone we meet will know who we are, even if they don’t know our names, and we’ll ingrain ourselves among them. Bottom line—we cannot hold ourselves above them anymore. We are not better than them, and we must remember that. We depend on them as they depend on us, and it’s time to start acting like it.”