What had he been, before he wore Apollo’s chain? What had he become, after Apollo was gone? If nothing else, he was pleasant on the eyes. One could never have too many nice-looking men around.
“I can offer you power,” she said. “I’m rebuilding a pantheon. I’ll need help to see it established.”
“You’re offering divinity?” he said.
“Is that what you want?”
He kept his expression still. His gaze revealed nothing, not desire, fear, shock, nothing. But it was so clear. She could give him what he hadn’t found in over three thousand years of life. Power. Godhood. He was a servant, like Robin. He needed only a worthy master to guide him. She could use him like a tool, and make him grateful for it.
“That isn’t what he wants,” the Wanderer said. He’d been staring at the Greek, studying him with his focused intensity. Looking inside him. To his credit, the Greek didn’t flinch.
“What does he want?” Hera said, not taking her gaze from the Greek.
“Ask him about the chain he wears around his neck.”
Hera lifted her brow. “Well?”
The Greek grimaced and said, “I want it off.”
Ah, three thousand years, his master dead, and he was still a slave.
“Then I will find a way to remove it. If you will help me.”
The Greek had just exposed a great deal about himself, so she didn’t fault him for his stony reaction. He’d locked himself behind an emotionless wall—which he was wise to do, in a room filled with so much power.
He said, “You have a plan.”
“There is a golden apple. It was mine by rights when it first came into being, but it was stolen from me. I would have it now. Since the Walkers won’t give it to me, I must take it.”
He nodded slowly, with understanding. “Discord’s apple. The Judgment of Paris.”
“You know the story. Good.”
“I fought in the war over Helen, my lady. Of course I know the story.”
She regarded him with renewed curiosity. Who was he?
“Can you find a way for me to get into the Storeroom, or bring me the apple yourself?”
“I don’t know.”
“See that you do, and you will be rewarded.”
“My lady, can I ask you a question?”
“You may.”
“How did you survive?”
“Pardon me?”
“When Zeus set the trap at Olympus, how did you survive?”
She considered. He knew too much. Even if he was Apollo’s slave, Apollo hadn’t known anything. The stupid boy had fallen straight into Zeus’s trap, along with the rest of the family. In the stories, the gods had lived on forever. Only disbelief caused them to fade into myth. No one ever learned of the destruction of Olympus. She would have to watch this one closely indeed.
“I nearly didn’t. But you must understand, Zeus was my husband. He didn’t think I knew what he had planned, but I did. I had a plan of my own, and though his power nearly found me out, it didn’t.”
His gaze became unfocused and thoughtful.