Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 95187 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95187 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
“Trust me.”
I jolt and glance to where Poseidon sits behind the steering wheel of his SUV—truly, I don’t think he even has a driver—tense and still. We’ve been sitting in this parking lot for thirty minutes, looking out over the water to where the ships linger, dark shadows against the increasingly darker water. Five, still.
It’s not time yet. Deo will text when they’re leaving so we can time our attack. I haven’t failed.
“Icarus.” He waits for me to drag my gaze back to him. “It will be okay. Trust me.”
“It’s not too late to lock me up and throw away the key. Better not risk having an enemy at your back for what comes next.” I don’t exactly want to be locked up, but for all that he’s one of the legacy titles, cutting his teeth on politics and backstabbing, Poseidon isn’t acting to type. He’s too trusting. It’s only been a couple days. I could be anyone. I could be me, belligerent playboy of an enemy country, sent to Olympus to bring it down.
He places his big hand on my jostling knee. “Breathe. Slowly. Through your nose.”
“I’m not—” At his sharp look, I stop arguing and obey. Within a few breaths, I feel better, calmer. I hate that. I love it, too. “They’re going to send me away. You might as well have done it first.”
“No.” Just that. No explanation, no doubt.
As the sun finishes setting and darkness takes root, Poseidon only becomes calmer, more in control. I don’t understand it. Personally, I feel like I’m one mild inconvenience away from spinning out entirely. I flip wildly between believing the blackmail will work and being absolutely sure that Deo and the others are going to bet that they can kill me before I can release my blackmail to Circe and Aeaea. It’s what my father would do.
My father. Who’s dead.
“Did you toss my father’s body in a dumpster like I told you to?” The words feel jagged in my throat.
“You know I didn’t.” He squeezes my knee. “There’s a small funeral home for my people and their families. He’s been moved there and will remain until you’re ready to face him.”
Of course he will. Of course Poseidon has thought of everything—and brought a level of caring that I suspect has nothing to do with the fact we’re sleeping together. It’s just Poseidon. “Cremate him and toss him in the trash.”
He’s silent for several minutes that feel like a small eternity. “If that’s truly what you want to do, then tell me again tomorrow and I’ll see it done. Not the trash. I’ll store his remains somewhere safe in case you ever change your mind.” He pauses. “An alternate option is to have his body converted to soil and plant a tree. We have a designated space outside the city for people who want to utilize that option.”
I have spent all of my adult life and no small amount of my childhood learning to lie and shield my emotions from those around me. There’s absolutely no reason for Poseidon’s kindness to have my throat closing and my eyes burning. I blink a few times, but it only makes the sensation worse. “He was a monster. Not just to everyone else, but to me and Ariadne, too. He hated every part of me, and the more I tried to please him, the more he loathed the weakness that drove me to seek his approval.”
Poseidon shifts his hand to mine, linking our fingers together. “It’s okay to mourn him. Or to mourn the father and person he should have been. It doesn’t mean you excuse all the bad things he did.”
A single tear slips free and I have to close my eyes to keep the rest in. “You’re pretty smart, you know that?”
“I can’t take credit for it.” He chuckles a little. “I read a lot and try to learn from people smarter than me. That’s from one of my books.”
I don’t have to ask why he was reading a book apparently about grief for a person who was terrible—his uncle. My laugh is watery. “Shit is complicated.”
“Life usually is.”
I breathe slowly, giving myself time to get under control. He waits me out with a patience I can’t quantify. Finally, I manage, “If we live through this mess, I think I’d like to read that book.” It’s nowhere close to the promises of a potential future we made earlier today, but it feels monumental all the same.
“I’m happy to give it to you.” He squeezes my hand. “And there’s no if, Icarus. You’re living through the night.”
I wish I had his confidence. I wish I had a lot of things. I open my mouth to say as much, but two cars pull in on either side of us before I can. They’re identical to the one we sit in, black SUVs with deeply tinted windows. I tense, expecting an ambush. When a door opens and Zeus steps into the cold night, I’m not exactly reassured. This is all part of the plan, but I can’t help the worry nibbling at the back of my mind that I’ve missed something, that everything is about to go terribly wrong.