Skyla stared at the goddess she’d once regarded as her friend. The only person who’d understood her. But now she realized Athena hadn’t truly understood her at all. Not if she could so callously brush this aside as if it meant nothing.
“How is it even possible? He died. I saw his body. I…” She closed her mouth, swallowed. Couldn’t say the words. Because even just thinking them cut with the fierceness of a jagged blade. He’d been her lover, her heart, the one person she’d been willing to leave the Sirens for. Until he wasn’t.
Athena pressed the button on the end of the magical weapon. It shrank down to a six-inch metal bar, which she slipped into the leg of her platform kick-ass boots. “That was not my doing.”
“But you know.”
“What I know is irrelevant.” She shrugged. “My guess, though? A meddling Fate.”
“What would a Fate care about one man’s actions?”
Athena turned to look past the Siren Compound toward the shimmering palaces of Olympus beyond. “More than you know.”
Before Skyla could ask what that meant, Athena turned back to face her. “The man you were so ready to leave the Order for, Skyla, was so angry at Zeus for convincing his father Perseus to put another on the throne of Mycenae instead of him that he used you to gain access to Olympus and jump-start his revenge against the King of the Gods. He stole the air element right out from under Zeus’s nose. An offense punishable by death. And when you couldn’t kill Cynurus as you were ordered to do, Zeus sent others in your place to finish the job.”
The stab of Cynurus’s betrayal still stung, over two thousand years later. Skyla remembered all too clearly how humiliated she’d been when she realized she’d been duped, that he had in fact stolen the palm-sized gem that held the chthonic powers of the sky. And when Zeus had ordered her to kill him, she was so distraught over her misjudgment, she hadn’t been able to think, let alone act.
She’d spent the long years of her life knowing that misjudgment had sealed his fate for all eternity. And she’d justified it by believing he was guilty. But now…
If he was truly guilty, as Zeus and Athena claimed, why would a Fate give him a second chance?
“Lachesis was pissed when Zeus stepped in and had Cynurus killed prematurely,” Athena went on, oblivious to the painful memories washing over Skyla like a wave. “Why? I’ll never know, nor do I care. My guess is she took her appeal to Hades and brokered a deal for a second shot at life for the bastard. And as he did back then, now, in the body of this daemon hybrid, he’s pulling the same shit as before. Only this time he has his sights set on the Orb of Krónos. And ultimate control of everything. The soul is black, regardless of the body. Then as now, Skyla, that is the same.”
The Orb of Krónos. Holy gods, that’s what this was about? Athena had told her Orpheus was after a relic. One that held great sentimental value for Zeus. But that’s not what this was. This was the source of ultimate power. The object that had the strength to release the Titans from Tartarus, to start the war to end all wars, and the power to control what was left behind.
Armageddon in all its glory.
“I covered for you, Skyla, for a very long time.” Athena stepped close, and in her eyes Skyla could see she’d pushed the goddess past her patience limit. “And when Zeus wanted you cast out of the Sirens, I made sure you had a place to stay. I trained you. I molded you. I taught you everything I knew so that you’d never be misled again. Everything you have and everything you’ve done is because of me. Because I cared enough to see that you were never hurt by the lie that is love again. The Siren call to duty is one that is meant to be answered, served, then abandoned, and we never intended for you to serve this long. But to spare you, I alone allowed you to remain. You are not immortal, even though you choose to think you are. Before you start spewing accusations that will only have you cast out for good, I suggest you think long and hard about who used you and who was there for you when you needed it most.”
Athena brushed past Skyla and headed down the hill toward the main building. As Skyla watched, a host of memories rippled through her mind, bombarded her heart, tore at her soul. But the clearest—the most excruciating—was the moment she’d realized the man she loved was gone forever. In those static seconds, it hadn’t mattered what he’d done. All that had mattered was that she was alone.
Head spinning, Skyla moved toward the barracks. As she climbed the front steps, the sound of voices and laughter drifted to her from behind the structure. She ignored her sisters and headed into the lobby. The place was set up like a fancy hotel, with plush couches and chairs. Skyla bypassed the comfort and climbed the stairs to the right, heading to the third floor and her personal residence as her mind continued to flicker over events long since past.
“I knew that hybrid kicked your ass. I just didn’t expect to still see you licking your wounds.”
Skyla’s feet slowed. Sappheire leaned against the wall, sharpening one of her many knives. The Siren’s mane, a mixture of blond and brown and red, fell to her biceps. Her piercing blue eyes—for which she was named—were homed in on Skyla as if she could see past flesh and bone and deep into the soul.
For a second, Skyla thought her Siren sister was referring to Orpheus, and her skin prickled. Then she realized Sappheire’s dig was related to the hybrid who’d injured Skyla weeks ago, not the hell she’d just been through.
“It surprises me you win any battles, if you think this is defeat.” Skyla grasped the balustrade and turned for the next set of steps. She wasn’t in the mood to get into a pissing match with Sappheire. It was no big secret Sappheire was itching to take Skyla’s place as Athena’s most trusted Siren. But today she didn’t feel like dealing with Sappheire’s shit. She had enough of her own to deal with.
Sappheire skipped steps and caught Skyla on the next landing. “Word is you’re slipping, Siren.”
Skyla’s eyes narrowed. “The only slipping I’ll be doing is on your blood if you don’t back off.”
Sappheire flicked a lock of hair from Skyla’s shoulder. “Be careful whom you mark as your enemy, Skyla. You might just find yourself alone when you need me most.”
Sappheire’s threat lingered as she descended the steps. When she was gone, Skyla blew out a breath and continued to her rooms at the highest level of the building.
She’d been given this premier space when she’d become Athena’s right-hand Siren, the one the goddess confided in the most and turned to when she had a problem. Skyla pushed open the door to her apartment and crossed the immaculate space. She’d taken pains to make this area her own. Comfy white furnishings, a mixture of glass and wood tables. And plenty of books.
She bypassed her kitchen, where she enjoyed baking—though no one but her knew that little secret because she never shared her goodies with anyone—and went straight for her bedroom.
This room was all her. Red velvet comforter, wrought-iron bed, plush pillows, and shelves along every wall lined with more books than a mortal could read in one lifetime. Some from Olympus, but most acquired over her many years spent in the human realm.
She stepped around a stack she’d yet to shelve and knelt on the hardwood floor near the window. After one deep breath that did little to settle her nerves, she pried up the slat closest to the window and reached inside the dusty hole for the box she’d stashed there thousands of years before.
It wasn’t anything fancy. Just aged cedar that was now covered in a layer of dust. She blew the dust from the lid and rubbed her hand over the Siren symbol—the ancient Greek letter sigma, cut diagonally with an arrow and surrounded by an intricate bow with swirled ends and delicate edges. The same symbol branded into the skin over her right shoulder blade. The same symbol every Siren had been branded with when they’d joined the order.