He had begun to drift to sleep when Apollo stirred and murmured, “There’s someone in the house. Come in through the closet.”
He meant the doorway to Olympus.
A moment later, she appeared at the entrance to Apollo’s bedchamber. Looking over Apollo’s naked body, Sinon saw her. She regarded them, meeting his gaze. She was armored, a sword girded at her side, her helmet under her arm. He didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t exactly bow to her from his current position. He didn’t like being caught like this, having this woman see him tangled in bed with his male lover. That pride again. His impulse was to bury himself under the covers like a child having a nightmare. If only there were covers.
Smiling, Apollo snuggled closer to him. Without opening his eyes he said, “Athena. Care to join us?”
No reaction marred her hard expression. “Tempting, but no. We haven’t got time.”
“Maybe later, then?” Apollo said hopefully.
“Zeus is planning something.”
“He’s always planning something.”
“He’s really planning something this time. It’s what we’ve feared.”
At this, Apollo sat up. Gratefully, Sinon shi
fted out of his way.
“He’s doing it at last, is he?”
Athena nodded. Apollo ran his hands through his hair. “That crazy old man.”
“What’s wrong?” Sinon said quietly. If they had been in Olympus, or in the courtyard, or anywhere but in their postcoital bed, he would not have had the impudence to ask. If they’d been anywhere else but in bed together, Apollo would not have deigned to answer.
He shook his head. “Zeus is going to ruin everything. Well, then. It’s time. Once again the children must rise up against the Father.”
He stood and recovered his tunic, discarded near the bed. Striding across the room, he went to a chest in the corner, opened it, and pulled out of a set of armor: breastplate, greaves, helmet, shield, sword. All were blindingly golden.
“I assume you have a plan?”
“He’s currently away from Olympus, on one of his liaisons. We can occupy his palace and wait for his return.”
“Sinon, help me with this.” He gestured to the straps on the breastplate. Sinon, infected by Apollo’s urgency, didn’t bother dressing, but went to the god and helped him fasten on the armor. The divine conversation continued. “That’s it? No intrigue, no subterfuge, none of that wiliness that makes us love you so?”
“I thought the direct approach would be best.”
“Who is with us?”
“Almost everyone.”
“Almost? Athena, this is not a task to be undertaken with half measures.”
“I don’t trust Hermes. He’d expose us just because to him it’d be funny. Hades will not help us, but he will not hinder us. He’ll stay in his palace. Dionysus can’t be bothered, says it can’t really be that serious.”
“None of those is unexpected, I suppose.”
“I cannot find Hera.”
“No matter. She certainly won’t stand by Zeus.”
“That’s what I thought.”
Apollo stepped away from Sinon and looked himself over, tugging here and adjusting there, squaring his shoulders, settling into the fit of the armor.
He tucked his helmet under his arm and said to Sinon, “There. How do I look?”