Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 101264 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 506(@200wpm)___ 405(@250wpm)___ 338(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101264 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 506(@200wpm)___ 405(@250wpm)___ 338(@300wpm)
The house is, of course, sprawling and beautiful. It creates an upside-down U shape that frames the circular drive. We’re not the only car pulling up, and I catch sight of Hermes herself bouncing from the car in front of us, followed by an exhausted-looking Dionysus. They make quite the pair. She’s a short Black woman with dark-brown skin and tight dark curls wearing bright-pink pants that sparkle in the sunlight and a teal graphic T-shirt that I can’t read from here. Dionysus, on the other hand, is a white man with mussed dark hair, a truly outstanding mustache, and a penchant for dressing like he stepped out of another time. Today it’s slacks, suspenders, and a dark printed button-down shirt beneath a vest.
I still like Hermes. First because she’s one of the few people in the upper city who know what my parents did and didn’t treat me like I’m carrying around a knife and just waiting to finish the job they started, and second because I truly enjoy being around her. Our relationship flared bright and hot, but we quickly realized it wasn’t meant to be. I’ll never willingly tie myself to a member of the Thirteen, and I highly suspect Hermes gave her heart to someone a long time ago and no one else can compare. These days, we’re friends and that suits us both.
Apollo waits until Hermes loops an arm through Dionysus’s and tows him into the house before he opens the door and steps out of the car. He catches my questioning look. “We have to deal with her eventually, but there’s no reason to rush it.”
I should probably tell Apollo that she’s my ex, but the words keep sticking in my throat. Surely it doesn’t matter? I accept his hand even though I’m more than capable of climbing out of the car without help. For the act, of course. Not because I like the way his fingers curl around mine. To distract myself, I say, “You really don’t like Hermes, do you?”
“She’s fine.”
His clipped tone gives him away. I frown at him. “Is it you don’t like her? Or that you’re quietly furious that she’s dodged any of your attempts to get more information on her?”
Apollo shoots me a sharp look. “I don’t like mysteries.”
I bet. “Has she broken into your house?”
His jaw goes tight. “Several times. I still can’t figure out how she gets in.”
That must irritate him to no end. He really does hate mysteries. Without thinking, I pat his chest. “Poor Apollo. That must bother you so much.”
He glances down to where my fingers still rest lightly against his chest. When he speaks again, his voice has deepened. “I’ll get over it.”
“Welcome!”
I drop my hand guiltily and spin to face the woman approaching us. She’s about my age, I think. About my size, too, and wearing a perfectly tailored blouse and shorts. She moves with an easy grace that reeks of some kind of expensive finishing school; no one moves like they’re floating naturally.
The woman must be Minos’s daughter, but she doesn’t look like him at all aside from her coloring. Her light-brown skin is an identical tone, though her hair is a deep black and falls in a straight line past her shoulders.
She smiles at us, the expression lighting up her dark eyes. Being on the receiving end of that smile makes my spine straighten despite myself. I don’t have a type. I’m not one to narrow my options, even if I don’t date much as a general rule. But this woman is pretty. Very, very pretty.
I can’t help glancing at Apollo to see his reaction. Apparently he had the same idea because our gazes meet fleetingly before we turn back to her. He steps forward and offers a hand. “I’m Apollo. This is my girlfriend, Cassandra.”
“I know.” Her smile widens. She looks so happy. Surely she’s faking it, but I don’t detect a hint of artifice in her. “I’m Ariadne. My brother, Icarus, and I are seeing to the sleeping arrangements. We have your room ready.”
He has his children doing the initial entertaining. It’s not shocking. After the encounter with Theseus in Apollo’s office and watching the Minotaur during the competition for Ares, I don’t expect either of them excel at playing nice. Not like Ariadne apparently does. I can’t help wondering if Icarus takes after his sister or his foster brothers.
Apollo smiles down at her. “That sounds wonderful.”
She turns and leads us through the front doors into an echoing entranceway. It looks like something out of a movie with two staircases circling the space opposite the front door to meet overhead. I knew Hermes had a sense of the theatrical, but this looks like a cross between a Gothic mansion and some hideously expensive southern manor.
Ariadne heads up the stairs, leaving us to trail behind. The archway at the top of the stairs flows into a wide hallway. She motions at the doors studding the walls all the way down. “These are converted rooms. They’re essentially sitting rooms and will be open to whoever wants to use them throughout the day.”