Wicked Beauty (Dark Olympus 3)

“Bossy.”

“You need the calories.”

She gives me a stubborn look, but her amber eyes dance. “You aren’t telling Achilles to eat.”

I tilt my head in his direction. He’s created a mounding plate of food and is already halfway through devouring it. When he catches us looking, he shrugs. “I’m hungry.”

Helen shakes her head. “Okay, you have a point.” She holds my gaze and takes a dainty bite of the omelet.

Satisfied she’ll continue eating, I pour three mugs of coffee and start at the beginning. “My moms—Sthenele and Polymele—have been together since they were teenagers.”

“Like someone else we know,” Achilles mutters.

I ignore him. He’s heard this story a thousand times, and as a result, I can predict his interruptions the same way he can predict how it unfolds. “They’re both from families that have had members in the Thirteen in past generations, and with several of the titles primed to switch over, they had a good chance at claiming one for themselves. Sthenele worked under the last Aphrodite, and she was a top contender for the position.” The last Aphrodite liked her quite a bit, I think, and since the current holder of that title is the one who names their heir, it made my mother a front-runner.

“What happened?”

I wait until she takes another bite to look away. “They wanted more kids. Polymele was pregnant.” The details are a little hazy for me after all this time, but the thing I do remember is how excited I was at the thought of a sibling…and how quickly joy turned to fear. “There was an, ah, attack.”

“What he means is that the bitch Peitho orchestrated an attack on Polymele as a way to put pressure on Sthenele.” Achilles raises his brows when I sigh. “What? It’s the truth. She did it, even if they never proved it. And she is a bitch. The years haven’t changed that, or she wouldn’t be exiled right now.”

“Peitho…” Helen’s eyes go wide. “That’s Eros’s mom’s name. I kind of forgot she had one before becoming Aphrodite.”

“Yeah, well, she’s not Aphrodite anymore, is she?” Achilles takes a massive bite of sandwich.

“I guess she’s not,” Helen says faintly.

I lean back in my chair. “Polymele miscarried.” My moms still get kind of sad when that subject comes up. It wasn’t the only miscarriage she suffered in the years after that. They used to call me their miracle baby with a smile, but I know the fact I’m an only child is a bittersweet thing for both of them. “Sthenele made the decision to resign her position and put as much distance between our family and Olympian politics as possible.”

Helen studies the plate in front of her. “Why didn’t they strike back? Removing Peitho would have removed the threat.”

“You know better.” Even existing mostly on the outskirts of the Thirteen, I understand how things work. There’s always another threat, another enemy. The people who stay and thrive in that atmosphere are willing to pay the price—or allow those closest to them to pay the price. My moms decided the cost was too high.

She sighs. “Yeah. I guess I do know better.” Helen picks up her fork and puts it down again. “That’s all very romantic. Do they regret it?”

I shrug. “They wanted our family to be safe more than they wanted power. They seem happy enough with the results.” I grew up in a household filled with love and safety. I don’t know that the latter would be true if my moms had chased their ambition. I still remember the tension and fights they had when I was small. So much is indistinct, but that isn’t. They relaxed once we moved, fought less.

She nods slowly. “And what do they think of you being in the tournament?”

“They know the score.” Achilles snorts. “Patroclus and I have been on this path a long time. They knew we were headed for glory and everything that entails.”

Despite myself, I smile. Achilles often exasperates my moms, but they love him nearly as much as I do. “Yeah, you’ve had your eye on the top for a long time. It’s one of the first things you ever said to me in boot camp. You looked around and said, ‘Someday, everyone in Olympus is going to know my name.’”

Achilles doesn’t bother to blush. “I know what I want.”

Helen’s shoulders go tense, a sure sign we’re about to reenter our argument about Ares and what it means and what the future will hold. We’ll end up going in circles again and again, because there’s no solution. We only have theories right now.

I cut in before we can go off the rails. “I’ve shown you mine. Now show me yours.”

Her smile is half-hearted at best. “You had a happy childhood, didn’t you? Even before you moved?”

“Yeah.” It’s the truth. I never went without. I knew my moms loved me. There was the normal kid shit, especially being a person who needs a lot of time to think, but nothing worth commenting on.