Date: 2026-04-03T00:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Fiction; Fantasy; Romance; Mythology
Description: Immortal Fury They call him the greatest hero who has ever lived. I call him the man who slaughtered my family. That night I learned the truth about monsters. They wear the faces of heroes. I’m the girl who ran. The little red-head who escaped, and Olympus forgot. For twenty years, I've lived in the shadows while the world worships my family's killer, knowing I can never face him. He's untouchable, beloved, divine. I'm nobody. But now the gods are offering the strongest of heroes a prize nobody thought possible. Immortality. And we all know he’s going to win. I can’t let that happen. An eterni
Publisher: Self Published

Immortal Fury

HERCULES MUST DIE

ELIZA RAINE

Copyright © 2026 by Eliza Raine All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Contents

Trigger Warnings

World Guide

1. Lyssa

2. Lyssa

3. Lyssa

4. Lyssa

5. Lyssa

6. Lyssa

7. Lyssa

Quote

8. Lyssa

9. Lyssa

10. Alexios

11. Lyssa

12. Lyssa

13. Hercules

14. Evadne

Quote

15. Lyssa

16. Lyssa

17. Alexios

18. Lyssa

19. Eryx

20. Hedone

21. Lyssa

The Nemean Lion.

22. Lyssa

23. Hercules

24. Evadne

25. Alexios

26. Lyssa

27. Lyssa

28. Hercules

29. Lyssa

30. Eryx

31. Hercules

Quote

32. Evadne

33. Lyssa

34. Lyssa

35. Alexios

36. Hedone

37. Eryx

38. Hercules

39. Lyssa

40. Lyssa

The Hydra

41. Hercules

42. Hedone

43. Eryx

44. Hercules

45. Alexios

46. Lyssa

47. Eryx

48. Hercules

49. Eryx

50. Lyssa

51. Alexios

52. Hedone

53. Evadne

54. Lyssa

Quote

55. Lyssa

56. Hercules

57. Evadne

58. Lyssa

The Stag

59. Lyssa

60. Eryx

61. Lyssa

62. Hedone

63. Evadne

64. Hercules

65. Lyssa

Thanks for Reading!

Trigger Warnings

AND A NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR

You know those books where the villain gets the girl?

This is not one of those.

Hercules is the villain of this story. And trust me when I tell you, Hercules must die.

A NOTE ABOUT THIS SERIES: I have always been obsessed with Greek mythology, and this is a retelling of the twelves labors of Hercules, with a big-ass twist: Hercules enjoyed killing his family (and all the centaurs, giants, and other innocents along the way) because he’s an evil maniac.

This series is far more true to the myths than any of my other series, and the world-building is much broader, and a little darker. Olympus is a place where the powerful rule through fear and strength. Power has corrupted. That means there are a couple triggers warnings. Themes of slavery, murder (of family), and domestic abuse, are present and on-page. There are paraphrased quotes from the real 2000 year old texts, and they contain some graphicly violent descriptions. Skip those if you need to. It will be harder to skip Hercules’ appaling behaviour toward women, so if that is a hard pass for you, please give this one a miss.

Character guide

Lyssa (LIS-uh) - means "Rage"

Epizon (eh-pee-ZOHN)

Lucas (LOO-kas)

Len

Tenebrae (TEN-eh-bray) - means "darkness"

Alexios (ah-LEX-ee-os) - Greek name meaning "defender"

Bassari (bah-SAH-ree) - means “fox”

Evadne (ee-VAD-nee)

Asterion (as-TEER-ee-on) - from Greek myth, another name for the Minotaur Hedone (HEH-doh-nay) - from Greek myth, the goddess of pleasure Theseus (THEE-see-us) - from Greek myth, demigod hero Psyche (SY-kee) - from Greek myth, mortal woman who became goddess Bellerophon (beh-LAIR-oh-fon) - from Greek myth, demigod hero Eryx (EH-riks) - from Greek myth, son of Poseidon and boxer Antaeus (an-TEE-us) - from Greek myth, giant son of Poseidon Bergion (BER-jee-on) - from Greek myth, son of Poseidon Albion (AL-bee-on) - from Greek myth, son of Poseidon, brother of Bergion Busiris (byoo-SY-ris) - from Greek myth, son of Poseidon, king of Egypt

World guide

Uncommon Words

Alastor (ah-LAS-tor) - means “bloood fued” or “avenger”

Hybris (HY-bris) - means “excessive pride”

Orion (oh-RY-on) - means “hunter” or “mountain”

Virtus (VIR-toos) - Latin, not Greek, means “excellence”

Doulos (DOO-los) - "slave" or "servant"

Lamia (LAH-mee-ah) - greek mythology vampire Cyclopes (sy-KLOH-peez) - plural of Cyclops Telkhines (tel-KY-neez) - greek myth craftmen Olympus Geography

Aries - ruled by Ares

A dangerous island realm ruled by kings and queens of fierce tribes Taurus - ruled by Dionysus A wild forest realm with giant treehouses

Gemini - ruled by Hermes

Adjoining twin islands, thriving and wealthy, with aztec influence Cancer - ruled by Hera

The most Greek of the realms, family orientated and peaceful Leo - ruled by Zeus

A sky realm at the center of the world, ringing Mount Olympus Virgo - ruled by Hades

A forbidden realm, also known as the Underworld Libra - ruled by Athena

A sky realm, industrial, made up of platforms and bridges

Scorpio - ruled by Hephaestus A forbidden realm, encased inside a series of volcanoes

Sagittarius - ruled by Artemis A forbidden realm, a sanctuary for centaurs

Capricorn - ruled by Apollo An island realm with extreme changing weather

Aquarius - ruled by Poseidon An underwater realm made up of golden domes

Pisces - ruled by Aphrodite A forbidden realm, tropical paradise

To all the incredible women who are being kept small.

Enough.

It’s time to fucking shine.

Chapter 1

Lyssa

“Do we have a problem, Captain Lyssa?”

Shit, I have more problems than I can count. But right now, she’s the biggest.

I fucking hate vampires. And I hate them even more when they’re standing on the deck of my ship.

“I believe we do, Lady Lamia,” I grit out, the forced politeness almost killing me. I bite down hard on my lip and eye the Cyclops guards surrounding her.

“I’m sure we can work it out.” Lady Lamia’s silky-smooth voice comes from behind a dense black veil, and only the red shine of her eyes and lips can be seen behind it.

Her headdress and long gown glitter with gems and metals that are intricately woven into the blue fabric, and looks like liquid when it moves.

If the rumors are true, the expensive and demure outfit is hiding a form nobody has ever laid eyes on and survived to describe. If the rumors are true, she only eats living flesh and takes enormous amounts of pleasure in cruelty.

I knew I shouldn’t have taken this job. I fucking knew it.

I should have listened to my gut. Turned the work down. But desperation leads to stupid decisions, and we’re flat broke, with the ship in urgent need of repairs.

Smuggling goods in Olympus doesn’t allow for much honest work, obviously, but we have a code, and so far, we’ve never broken it. But this time, we’ve been tricked.

We would never have knowingly stolen cargo for this creature.

“What’s in the crate?” I load as much command as I can into the question.

I know I don’t look like much of a threat, a slightly shorter-than-average human woman whose only standout feature is my mass of flame-red hair. Epizon, on the other hand, is well over six and a half feet, built like a Minotaur, and has skin the color of onyx. Remarkably, he’s human too, though I’m sure there must be some giant in his ancestry somewhere.

He hulks beside me, leaking seething anger into the air.

The six Cyclops guards fan out behind Lady Lamia. They’re large, slow creatures with one amber eye in the center of their forehead, and sharp protrusions erupting all over their hairless skulls.

A small figure in a hooded cloak and chains around his ankles stands behind her, holding an open box of silver drachmas.

“What is in the crate is my business, not yours,” the vampire says.

I swallow down my anger. It’s with myself, for allowing this clusterfuck of a situation to have come about.

We can’t afford to fight. If she takes much more damage, I’m not sure the ship will recover. That’s the only reason we took this on in the first place.

I thought the job had been to steal the crate from a wealthy family who wouldn’t miss the contents, and deliver it to a well-known criminal who dealt in nothing more than strong alcohol and the occasional magical hallucinogen. Not the kind of client I favored, sure, but he was paying well, and he doesn’t have a reputation for causing people harm.

But it wasn’t him who stepped onto my deck to collect the crate at the rendezvous point.

Instead it was a creature who eats living people.

“The deal is off.”

“Excuse me?” The singsong voice rings through the air, edged with danger.

Epizon tenses beside me.

“Unless you open the crate, the deal is off.” I try to make eye contact through the veil and pray that the rumors are exaggerated.

After a pause, Lady Lamia replies, “I’ve already paid you half of the fee. An exceptionally generous fee.”

“Obviously, we will return the money.”

I’ve already spent the money on hull repairs. Hades only knows where we’ll find enough to return the fee.

“But wouldn’t you be out of pocket? You have been all the way to Leo and back.”

“The deal is off unless you show me what is in that crate.”

“Why do you want to know what is inside?” There’s a smile in her voice. “If I can show you thirty bottles of wine and some silks, you’ll hand it over?”

“Sure.”

My stomach churns. Please, gods, let the crate be full of wine and silks, I pray. Please don’t make me complicit in feeding an evil sadist.

“No.”

I grind my teeth, and turn my back on the vampire.

“I’m going to open this crate,” I say, moving to the box. It’s ten feet wide on every side, and has been an absolute bastard to move in and out of the cargo deck, it’s so heavy. “For the sake of diplomacy, I suggest you let me, and then we can have a discussion.”

“If you open that box, both of you will die.”

Epizon growls, and I smile.

“So be it.”

I yank a small dagger from my belt and ram it between two tight planks. I hear the Cyclopes start to move, but Lady Lamia’s voice stops them.

“The young captain has made her choice. We may as well meet our new friend early.”

I almost stop pulling at her words.

Unease flows through every part of me, from my twisting gut to my prickling skin. Epizon appears at my side, wrapping his huge fingers around the wood and pulling.

“Her new friend?” I whisper to him.

“If there is a living being in this box, then we tear each and every one of them limb from limb,” he rumbles back. “I would rather die than be a part of that.”

“Well, that’s lucky, because we probably will die. The chances of getting out of this with no damage are slim to none.”

Epizon shrugs as he yanks harder on the planks. “Cost of doing the right thing, captain. Besides, we’ve taken on worse things than her and her Cyclopes.”

“Not in a—”

My answer is cut short as my plank finally gives way, and takes another two with it.

“Zeus’s balls!” I leap backward as two massive green eyes appear in the gap. Epizon wrenches off another plank with a furious growl.

A glass tank filled with water contains a creature I’ve never seen before. It has a torso and head that is humanoid, but it has no legs, a tail-like limb there instead. Its whole body and face are covered in iridescent white scales that glisten pale purple when it moves.

“What the…”

“She’s beautiful,” breathes Lady Lamia.

I stare, transfixed, and it stares straight back, gaze unnervingly steady.

Guilt, and rage, flow through me. This thing has been alone in the dark for weeks in the hull of the Alastor.

And I’m responsible.

The vampire speaks again, and I snap my attention back to her. “Such a shame.” There’s a movement under her gown, and the hooded figure steps forward, holding out the box of silver. “A ship of this poor condition would benefit from all these drachmas, would it not?” she asks softly.

The adrenaline I can feel flowing through me spikes, and I tense involuntarily.

“There is nothing wrong with my ship, Lady Lamia, and I politely request that you get the fuck off it.”

I meant what I said to Epizon about a fight not being in our favor, but now it’s coming, I can’t stop the excitement trickling through my body.

“Captain Lyssa. This is not a being as you or I know it. It requires nothing to live and cannot communicate. It is barely sentient. Think of it as purely decorative.”

Epizon growls beside me. I look over at the creature’s unsettlingly piercing green eyes, fixed on the blue-robed Lady Lamia. There’s no way it’s barely sentient.

“You’re not taking it. Leave.” My voice rings with disgust.

Lady Lamia lets out a bark of laughter and glides back, behind her guards. They move steadily toward us.

“You don’t really have any choice. You cannot afford to fight this fight.” Her voice is getting louder as she continues to glide backward across the deck, the guards advancing. “I’m surprised you can afford anything, to be honest,” she continues. “In fact,” Lady Lamia says, now a safe distance from the imminent violence, “how do you afford this monster of a man?” She gestures at Epizon. “How much do you want for him?”

Epizon bares his teeth and widens his stance. I move a few feet away from him. My skin is throbbing with energy, the muscles in my face and neck twitching as I try to keep control of myself a little longer.

“Do you know what lyssa means in the ancient language?” I ask, as I focus on the two guards now turning in my direction. The other four continue on toward Epizon.

Lady Lamia doesn’t reply.

“It means ‘rage,’” I say quietly, and let the coursing energy overcome me as I open my eyes.

The throbbing in my skin becomes a steady flow of power that I can feel surging through every part of my body.

As the first Cyclops puts his head down to charge at me, I drop to a crouch. The second he’s within my reach, I launch myself upward, my fist catching the creature in its low, bent cheek. A sickening thud precedes the creature’s wail, and he flies up and backward into the air.

I’m aware of a roar from Epizon as I run toward the second guard. I find the confusion and indecision on his face grimly satisfying. He chooses to stand his ground too late and has no time to brace himself for the kick I plant squarely under his chin. His face crumples, and he sinks slowly to the floor. My momentum takes me over the top of his prostrate body, and I stumble onto my hands and knees. I look toward Lady Lamia and jump to my feet when I can’t see her.

“Shit!”

I whirl to the tank, relieved to see the being is still there. It’s hovering, showing no emotion, staring at Epizon. I follow its gaze. Three of the Cyclopes lie dead or unconscious behind where he stands.

The last dances around the huge man, head down, moving backward and forward jerkily, like a boxer. It has clearly reached its goal a few times with its sharp horns, as bright trickles of blood stand out on Epizon’s dark bare arms. He holds them both out wide, goading the creature, a massive machete in his right hand.

The Cyclops snarls, and drops his head and charges. With a smooth movement, Epizon sidesteps it and brings the blade down on its neck.

“Where did she go?” he asks, turning to me as the head hits the planks.

Another voice answers, inside my head. My medic’s voice. “She went back to her ship. I disabled the plank-bridge, but cap, she’s got way more of those things.”

I move fast to the railings and look over at her ship. The plank-bridge that had been connecting our ships is indeed gone, but six more Cyclopes are carrying a new one across the deck on their shoulders.

“She’s got serious firepower—we can’t outgun her,” says Epizon.

My eyes land on the blue-robed figure on the deck of her ship.

“Time to run, then,” I say, projecting the thought as well as the words.

My ship lurches at my mental command, and then we’re moving, Lady Lamia’s ship becoming smaller.

“We’re about a league high. Do you want to stay here or try to lose her closer to the ground?” asks Epizon.

I shake my head. “We’re faster than her up here. These need pitching overboard,” I say, moving toward the dead Cyclopes. “Then we need to work out what to do with… that.” I gesture at the tank. Epizon turns toward it, but before he can speak, the ship shakes violently. We both fall, me cursing loudly as my leg scrapes down one of the dead Cyclopes’ head spikes.

“Ugly fucking brutes!” I kick at the dead creature as I scramble back to my feet.

“Storm ballistae, cap!” My medic’s shrill voice enters my mind.

Shit. If she’s got cannons that good, my ship is going need some help to outrun her. Adrenaline pours through my body, my vision darkening with red. “I’m coming.”

Chapter 2

Lyssa

Magic hums through my veins as I race across the planks. The main mast of the Alastor stands huge and proud ahead of me, shimmering silver sails billowing as the ship flies through the sky, brightly colored clouds racing past on either side. I throw my hands out in front of me when I reach the wide wooden pole, skidding to a stop and pressing my palms flat to the cool wood. A smile spreads across my face as I feel the pent-up energy buzzing through me soar when I connect with my ship.

I tip my head back and concentrate as hard as I can on the Rage flowing through me.

Everything that has just happened replays on high speed in my head, and I focus on every detail that makes me angry. It’s not hard. By the time I remember what Lady Lamia said about Epizon, a torrent of power is surging and straining to be free of my control.

With glee, I let go.

I hear the sound of the sails snapping taut and am vaguely aware of the blazing red color rippling across their surface. The ship lurches forward, and I grip the mast hard as we speed up, soaring through the clouds faster and faster as the sails draw my magic from me. Power flows from every part of my body into the ship, and I let out a roar of delight.

Channeling my Rage magic into the ship makes me feel so much more powerful than when I use it to fight.

I’m using my power to tear through the skies and outrun my enemies. I’m using it to fuel my beloved ship and make my crew safer and stronger.

Right now, I am invincible.

The clouds get brighter and deeper in color as they shoot past, which means we’re moving higher as well as faster. My red hair whips around me, stinging my cheeks. A wild grin splits my face as I picture Lady Lamia’s ship languishing behind us, and her fury at her prey escaping.

I’ve won.

I will always win. While I have my ship, while I have my strength, I will always—

“Captain!” Epizon yells, jolting my attention back to reality. “Enough!”

Reluctantly, I ease my hands from the mast, the ship immediately starting to slow as I sever the flow of power. Spasms rock through my muscles as the energy whirls, looking for an outlet. I screw up my face as I let go completely, flexing my hands into fists as I try to work the Rage out of my body. I take a few long breaths and turn, ready to reprimand Epizon for cutting my connection to the ship short.

I close my mouth when I focus on his face, though. Epizon’s expression is tight, and I blink at him, the pain in my muscles fading.

“Captain, we’re a hundred and fifty leagues away already. Any farther, and we’ll be too high.”

Have we really been moving that fast? Pride creeps through the alarm I feel.

“We don’t know what will happen if we get much higher than this. We should be careful,” he says, emphasizing we. He means I need to be careful.

I look around and see the glittering swirls of dust amongst the deep blue and purple clouds.

The higher you get above Olympus, the bolder the colors, and the more the sky sparkles. The shimmers dance around the ship and reflect off the sails, now returning to their normal silver sheen as the red Rage drains from them.

“Cap, you’re bleeding.” A satyr is trotting across the planks toward us.

Grateful for the interruption—I don’t want to argue with Epizon, and being careful isn’t exactly in my nature—I lean over to inspect the tear in my trousers over my bloody shin.

The satyr reaches me and peers at the wound too. “Want me to kiss it better?”

I aim a cuff at him. He hops out of my reach and trots toward Epizon.

Satyrs are half goat, half human, but usually goat-sized. Len, however, is small even for his race. His bottom half is dark brown furry goat hind legs, with a small white tail. The fur reaches his waist, and then, quite abruptly, his round human torso makes up the rest of his three-foot stature. He has dark hair around small, pointy horns on an otherwise human-looking, mischievous face. He can get in and out of almost any space on the ship.

Len was a compromise when putting together my tiny crew. He is an excellent medic and knows more about Olympus than anyone else I know.

Unfortunately, in every other way, he is a typical satyr. He is permanently randy, says exactly what he’s thinking out loud, and has no concept of personal space.

I wouldn’t be without him now, though.

I straighten. “I’m going to get this cleaned up. You two check if that storm ballista did any damage,” I say.

Epizon nods. “Yes, captain.”

I make my way to the back of the ship and step into the hauler—which moves the crew members and our cargo between decks. Just like the ship itself, it’s controlled by mental connection. If Len or Epizon concentrate on the Alastor they can move the haulers, and change her direction and position in the sky, and it’s the same when we talk to each other.

As far as I’m concerned, the ships of Olympus are the most precious gift the gods have ever bestowed on the citizens of Olympus. Me especially.

I get out on the middle deck and stride down the corridor, past the living quarters and through the galley.

The Alastor is a Crosswind-class ship, the smallest class. The galley is the only room below decks that spans the full width of the narrow hull, and it is right in the middle, under the main mast. The rest of the rooms are either side of a central corridor.

I stop when I get to a cramped infirmary, and bend to start opening cupboards at random. This is Len’s domain, so all the battered old storage cupboards are mounted low to the floor. Above the cupboards there are portholes over a foot wide, ringed in dull brass, showing the swirling purple clouds colliding with the glittering dust outside.

I find some gauze and tape together in a drawer and shove them in my pocket, then make my way back to the top deck.

I look around at the scattered Cyclops bodies and sigh heavily. The tank takes up a large space in the center of the deck and the creature hovers in the middle, staring out of the small gap in the planks.

“What are you?” I ask as I reach the tank and stare.

The startling eyes flick to mine, and it moves through the liquid toward the glass slowly, barely causing a ripple. There is an undeniably feminine quality to the enormous green eyes. It has a tiny mouth with deep blue lips that have not opened once, and no ears, just long slits I assume act as gills. A perfect violet braid of hair floats behind its head.

I put one hand up to the glass. The creature’s eyes flick to my hand, then back to my face. I wait a moment more, and when the creature doesn’t move, I shrug, turn around and slide down the crate until I’m sitting. I start to roll my trouser leg up but give up quickly, working instead through the gaping hole ripped in them. The wound isn’t deep, or even very painful, but it’s seeping blood into my boots.

I find the sight of my own blood reassuring. I like to see that it’s red human blood, with no visible trace of god blood.

I’ve never actually seen god blood, obviously, but rumor has it that it’s liquid silver. They don’t even call it blood. They call it ichor.

I’m only the granddaughter of a god, so any silver in mine is diluted, I suppose, as I tape the dressing onto my skin. I wonder if any of the closer descendants of the gods have silver blood. There are lots of them, since the gods aren’t fussy about sharing mortals’ beds, and most of them have powers.

Some have incredible strength or speed or wit, and others are gifted in things like music or art or beauty. Feeling a surge of gratitude for my Rage power, I lean my head back against the glass and close my eyes. Fuck being good at the lyre, when I can smash anyone who threatens me or my own to pieces. Or run away really fast.

Delaying dealing with the mess around me, I speak to the creature again. “Where are you from?”

I don’t expect a reply, and I don’t get one. With a sigh, I open my eyes and push myself to my feet, but falter as I turn to the tank. The creature is directly behind me, as close as it can get through the glass. Its wide eyes are fixed on mine, and I find I can’t look away. The flecks in its irises seem to glitter and swirl, like the skies beyond that I love so much. Happiness begins to seep into me.

“There’s a fair-sized breach in the forward hull, captain. We’ll have it patched in the next half-hour. Do you need help with the Cyclopes?” Epizon’s voice sounds in my head, breaking the spell.

I step backward, slightly dazed. The happiness vanishes and I shake my head a little. “No,” I say to Epizon, and back farther away from the tank. “You fix the hull.”

“I’ll let you know when we’re finished.”

Doing my best not to put my back to the tank, I start to drag the dead Cyclopes to the railings. Tipping bodies overboard isn’t a pleasant job, but it doesn’t bother me as much as it used to.

It takes little time to dispatch them all over the side. One could do worse than a burial in the skies, I tell myself as the last body drops like a stone over the railings. Eventually, they’ll hit water, but we’re far too high to see or hear it.

There’s a coughing sound behind me.

My instincts kick in immediately, since I’m the only person who is supposed to be on the deck.

I spin, pulling my slingshot from my belt and dipping into the pouch full of lead shot at my hip in one smooth, practiced move.

“Don’t shoot! Please!” The figure in the hood is standing on the deck, his arms raised above his head.

Chapter 3

Lyssa

Iblink. His hood is tipped back, and I swallow hard as I take in his face.

He’s a kid. An older kid, but definitely not more than a teenager. His skin is so white it looks like marble, and he’s filthy.

“What are you doing on my ship?” I say slowly. I don’t lower the slingshot. I’ve learned the hard way to trust nobody.

“She left me here.” His voice is strained, but I hear the relief in his words. “And unless you shoot me, here is better than on her ship.”

“Why did she leave you here?”

“I think she forgot about me.” His brown eyes are wide and fearful, but resolute.

“How did you end up on her ship?” I ask, my slingshot still leveled at him. He keeps his hands in the air. I scan his body, looking for weapons. I can’t see any.

“I was kidnapped,” he says quietly. “From Libra.” His eyes finally leave mine, and he stares around at the glittering skies. “She mostly keeps me below decks,” he says, before closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. “Her ship stinks of those Cyclopes. This smells… amazing.”

My heart contracts, and anger roars through my veins. “How long have you been a captive?”

He blinks his eyes open and screws up his face. “Maybe a year? I don’t know.”

My lips part, and I try not to let my horror show on my face. “How old are you?”

A sliver of pride shines in his eyes. “Seventeen. And I survived because I told her I was diseased. She believed me and wouldn’t feed from me.” A hint of a grin pulls at his mouth.

Gods above. I feel sick.

How in the name of Hades has this kid been through a year of living hell and is still able to grin?

“I’ll take you back to Libra,” I say.

“But I don’t want to go home.”

I frown at him, finally lowering my weapon. “You don’t want to get back to your family?”

“I don’t have a family. She took me from the slums.”

My heart aches again. I’ve lived in the Libran slums. They’re the only place in Olympus where the homeless can eat. It was where I met Epizon. But they’re far from safe, as this kid knows firsthand.

“Well, where do you want to go, then?”

He scuffs his filthy bare feet across the planks. “I saw you fight.”

Wariness makes my reply tight. “So?”

“Could I… stay here?”

I clench my teeth and take a breath. “No. I’m sorry, but that is absolutely not an option.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t need another crew member, especially one I met under three minutes ago. I’m sorry, kid, but no. No way.”

“I can help!” he says earnestly. “I’m good at a lot of things. Cleaning, mostly, but once I’m a bit stronger, and used to the light again, I can be useful!”

“I don’t need a deckhand,” I say. Plus I sure as shit can’t afford one.

He closes his mouth, then something hardens in his eyes. I tighten my grip on my lowered weapon. Desperation makes people act crazy. I know this.

He lifts his chin. “Lady Lamia didn’t just leave me behind.”

I tense.

“She also left the box of silver with me.”

Hope swells in me. Epizon won’t approve of keeping the money, but gods, we need it. And that disgusting excuse for a breathing being doesn’t deserve to get it back.

“Where is it?”

“I’m not telling you.”

My brows shoot up. “What?”

“I’m not telling you, unless you let me stay.” His voice is a tiny bit wobbly, but his eyes are still resolute.

My temper spikes, but I find myself annoyingly impressed by his bravery. He saw me fight. He saw Epizon fight. And he’s still trying to blackmail me?

“You hid it? On my own ship?”

He nods. “Yes. This ship is a Crosswind, right?” He looks around at the mast interestedly.

I can’t tell if he’s masking his fear, or genuinely believes I won’t hurt him. Which, truth be told, I’m pretty sure I won’t.

Even if he is a plant left here deliberately by Lady Lamia, I imagine he’s not doing it of his own free will.

I stare at him, trying to let my instincts do their work. Could he be in league with her, a lover or another vampire? Left here on purpose to keep track of, or even retrieve, the tank creature?

He looks like a scared, hungry, pale, battered human kid. But looks can be deceiving in Olympus.

I need to get the silver and then drop him off anywhere, as soon as possible. Whether or not he’s working for Lady Lamia, I don’t need kidnapped kids on my ship.

“Let’s get a couple of things straight, shall we? You are, essentially, a stowaway on my ship. Meaning I have every right to throw you overboard and watch your flailing body fall through the skies until you hit the ground.” His eyes move back to mine, and now I can see him wavering. “Where’s the silver? You have three minutes to tell me, or you’re going the same way as those dead Cyclopes. I do not have the time, patience, or funds to keep you here any longer than I need to.”

He manages a full minute of silence. And honestly, I’m trying hard not to be impressed, given that a year inside that monster’s ship would have broken most folk. “Under my cloak,” he says eventually on a sigh.

I shake my head. So much for being an evil mastermind.

“That is the shittiest hiding place ever.”

“I know,” he says, and moves slowly, lifting shackled ankles to reveal the box sitting on the planks beneath his cloak. “I panicked.”

I sigh and move to the box. When I flip it open, my spirits soar. This is easily enough drachmas to replace the last of the wood we’ll have just used to repair the hull, and there might even be enough left over to buy some soap. My thoughts get misty at the thought of soap, and I give the kid a softer look.

“Well, nice try, I guess.”

I lean over, let a surge of anger ripple through me, and snap the chain between his ankle shackles. He holds out his wrists hopefully, but I shake my head. “I’m sorry, but I’ve still only known you five minutes, and you’ve come from my enemy’s ship. Those stay on until we drop you back on Libra.”

His face falls. A pang of guilt washes through me, but I force it down. I can’t go around trusting everyone on Olympus with a sob story. That would be most of them. This world treats its citizens like shit.

“We have food, though,” I tell him. “And tea.”

His face lifts again. “Nettle tea? Fates, it’s been so long since I had nettle tea.”

“Yeah, I think we have nettle tea. What’s your name?”

“Lucas.”

Chapter 4

Lyssa

“Erm, captain?”

I have my eyes closed, and I’m trying not to throttle the kid, when I hear Epizon’s voice.

“Oh, thank Hades you’re here,” I say, leaping up from where I was sitting cross-legged against the main mast. “I’m going to kill him if he asks me one more question.”

Epizon looks between me and Lucas, who is poking the huge, spindly navigation wheel. Somehow, he’s still talking.

“Is that the doulos who was with Lady Lamia?”

I nod. “Yes. He’s called Lucas and he’s obsessed with ships and he doesn’t shut up.”

Len peers around Epizon’s legs with interest. “Why is he on our ship?”

“She left him behind.”

“And the silver!” Lucas says cheerfully, apparently tuning into our conversation.

“Yes. Which this little shit tried to blackmail me into giving us, in return for staying on the ship.” I glare at him, and his incredibly pale cheeks color a little.

“Huh. That takes balls,” says Epizon, admiration in his tone. I roll my eyes, despite thinking the exact same thing myself.

“No, it takes idiocy,” I say slowly to Lucas. “We’re dropping him off when we reach Libra. Ep, I need you to help me get the tank into the cargo deck until we can work out where to hide… it from Lady Lamia. And then we need to work out what it eats.”

“You don’t want to drop it off in Libra too?” Len asks.

I shake my head. “No. It’ll be safest here on the Alastor, for now.” Plus, I feel responsible. Epizon will know that, but I’m not going to admit it aloud.

“Alastor? Is that what your ship is called? Doesn’t that mean blood feud?” Lucas asks.

So the kid has some education. “Yes. Shut up.”

“Did you name her yourself? Who is your blood feud with? I had a brother once, I think, but—”

I turn to Epizon, giving him a beseeching look as I send a mental plea. “Please make him stop.”

Epizon’s deep voice cuts Lucas off. “Len, watch Lucas while we get the tank down below. Keep us on course for Libra.”

By the time the two of us have moved the tank and prized off the remaining crate planks, we’re both panting. The ship has been designed to move large cargo around, with wheeled bases and the large magical haulers, but the tank is still heavy as shit.

“What do you think she is?” I say, staring.

“She?”

“I think so. What do you think?”

He shrugs. “Hades knows. I’ve never seen anything like it, and nor has Len.”

“And Len knows Olympus better than either of us.” I sigh.

Epizon reaches out and claps me on the shoulder. I’m more than a foot shorter than him, and this is a move he’s been perfecting over many years.

“You saved her, Lyssa.” He only ever calls me by name when nobody else is around. Otherwise, it’s always “captain.”

“It’s my fault she needed saving.”

“You don’t know that. The people we stole her from might have been just as bad.”

I scowl at him. “As a fucking demigod vampire?”

His mouth tilts. “No, maybe not. But still. We can make sure she’s safe now. This is a good thing.”

“You’re not mad about me keeping the drachma for the job?”

“Nope. Morals be fucked when it comes to monsters like her. We deserve the silver more than she does.”

“That’s what I figured.”

We both stare at the scaled creature a little longer. She moves through the water without a ripple, her whole body lithe and fluid, but her eyes unblinking as they move between the two of us.

“I’ll get Len to go through his books. See if he can work out what she might eat,” I say eventually.

“Good idea. Now, we’d better feed ourselves. And our stowaway.”

I rub my eyes and groan. “Epizon, he’s so fucking annoying.”

“Everyone annoys you. I’m surprised you’ve not locked him up, though.” He eyes me curiously.

“Ep, I don’t need another lecture about trust,” I start, and he holds his hands up.

“Clearly.”

“Look, he could have been left here on purpose by Lady Lamia, but I highly doubt it. And… there’s something about him being this resilient after being captive so long… I mean, he still smiles! How can you still smile after going through what he has?”

Epizon responds with a small smile of his own. “He’s a survivor. We’ll find him somewhere safe.”

As soon as we emerge onto the top deck, I know something is wrong.

The light is wrong. The clouds are pale and pastel, and all the shimmers are gone.

“We’re too low. Why have we dropped?”

My pace quickens and I jog to the mast. I try to connect with the Alastor in my mind as I go, willing her to rise in the sky. But there’s nothing but a blank space in my mind where she usually glows, fierce and silver.

Fear constricts my chest. No. How can the ship not be responding? Is she broken? Am I broken?

“Captain, I can’t feel the Alastor,” says Epizon beside me as we skid to a stop.

From the mast I can see the end of the quarterdeck where we left Len and Lucas, and I freeze. They’re not moving. Not prostrate on the ground, but stock-still in upright positions, as though frozen in time.

Before I can move toward them, there’s an almighty judder, and then a bright white flash. I’m disoriented, and the jolt was enough for me to lose my footing, but I know what that white flash was.

Everyone in Olympus knows what a white flash means.

When I stand, I suck in air. It’s dark. It’s never, ever dark in Olympus. Not on board a flying ship anyway. I look up, and see why.

A giant platform is above us, blocking most of the clouds.

How in Hades…

I move my gaze and suck in more air. There are ships everywhere. All around us. Hundreds of them, all floating only a few feet apart. I could jump from the Alastor’s railings to the closest one.

This is not possible.

“Lyssa,” Epizon whispers beside me as he stands, looking up at the huge slab overhead, “where are we?”

I move, dazed, to the edge of the ship, and look over the railings.

My head spins as I stare down into absolutely pitch-dark nothingness.

Fuck.

I know exactly where we are. And worse, I know the only way we can have been brought here was by an Olympian god.

Chapter 5

Lyssa

There’s a clattering, and then Lucas skids to a stop beside me, arm chains clanging. A second later Len catches up, hooves clicking. They’ve unfrozen.

Both of them look scared, and I draw deep breaths. They need me to not lose my shit. I need me to not lose my shit.

“What’s happening? Why is it dark?”

“Where are we? What’s that up there?”

“Whose are all these other ships?”

“How did we get here?”

The questions tumble from the both of them, and I hold my hands up.

“We are at the Olympian Void,” I say. My voice is clear and steady, thankfully.

Len and Lucas’s mouths fall open, and Epizon’s tightens. Len moves to the railings, but he’s far too short to see over.

“I’ve read about the Void, but I never thought we’d see it! It’s by invitation of the gods only!”

“You don’t need to see it—it’s just a big fucking hole in Olympus that leads to endless nothingness, and that’s exactly what it looks like,” I say, yanking him back a little too hard from the railings. He looks up at me, and I grind my teeth. “You fall in there, it’s a one-way trip. Stay away from the railings.”

“Yes, captain,” he grumbles.

“I don’t know what is above us, and I don’t know why we’re here, or who all these other ships belong to, but I do know that a god brought us here. That’s what the white flash was, and no other being could possibly move an entire ship halfway across Olympus in a few seconds. And as Len said, this place is by invitation of the gods only.”

The words sound ridiculous even as I say them, and I’m trying hard to keep emotions I’ve buried for a long time from affecting my composure.

Most folk in Olympus will be lucky enough to never even see a god. Last time I saw one…

“Why in Hades would a god bring us here?” Len breathes.

Nobody answers him.

Even Lucas seems to have nothing to say. He’s staring up at the solid platform, still open-mouthed. Small mercies.

A noise makes us all turn. It’s a longboat, bumping against the edge of the railings. Big enough for about six people, it floats there in place.

We all stare. After a moment, Lucas points with both shackled hands at the ship next to us. “They’re getting on one,” he whispers.

He’s right. Four finely dressed humans are climbing from their extremely well-appointed and painted ship onto the waiting longboat. We watch as the last person is helped in, and the boat floats up, toward the platform above us.

“I guess we get in?” I say.

“All of us?” Lucas asks, hopefully.

I look at Epizon, my indecision melding with the fear and trepidation.

I have no idea why I’m here. I removed myself from the world of gods, demigods, and even fancy ships and well-dressed folk, years ago. Very, very deliberately. But now, for some unknown reason, I’ve been summoned back to it. And if it was by a god, then I have absolutely no choice whatsoever than to stay and find out why.

“What if…” The words come out a whisper, then trail off, and I’m instantly angry I’ve let myself look vulnerable in front of the others.

“He may be here,” Epizon rumbles, looking out over the huge number of ships. “If they’ve brought Olympus’s finest, which it appears they might have, then it is possible.”

I shake my head. “Epizon…” Fear curls around my gut, making my skin feel too tight.

“Who is she talking about?” Lucas says in a loud whisper. I look at him, and his wide-eyed, confused face is enough to me to snap me out of the spiraling fear.

I straighten, my voice sharp when I speak. “We can’t leave him on the ship.” I shove my thumb at Lucas. “Get his shackles off, and find him something to wear that isn’t filthy. Quickly.”

Epizon looks relieved at my change of tone. “Yes, captain.”

He grabs Lucas and jogs across the deck, Lucas tripping over his ankle cuffs as Epizon half drags him along.

“Cap, he might not be here,” Len says doubtfully.

I’m scanning all the ships closest to us, looking for the one I know belongs to him. I’m trying to keep my heart rate steady, my breathing even.

I knew this day would come. One day, I would have to see him again. But I didn’t think it would be so soon.

Soon? Shit, Lyssa, it’s been fifteen years, I berate myself.

“Len, it looks like every ship in Olympus is here. That means all the wealthiest families.” That means him.

“We’ll be with you.”

I look down at the little satyr. He wouldn’t last thirty seconds against him, nor would he have the courage to try. But I’m so grateful for his words that I actually almost reach out to hug him.

Fortunately I remember he’s a little pervert before I do, and nod at him instead. “Thanks, Len.”

“Always here for you, cap.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Day or night. Especially the night.”

I sigh and aim a half-assed kick near him. He trots to the side.

A few minutes later Epizon returns with a shackle-free Lucas. He’s wearing clothes that clearly belong to a man much larger than him, a tight belt cinching both heavy woolen trousers and a baggy black shirt around his middle. He has the sleeves rolled up and I can see the fresh chafe wounds over the old scars on his wrists.

He’s not lying. Those marks are from being shackled for months, at least.

I swallow down anger and make a show of appraising him. He grins at me, from a slightly less dirty face.

“No shoes?” I ask, glancing at his bare feet.

Epizon snorts, then straightens. “My boots are much, much too large for him, captain. Yours might fit?”

We all look down at my relatively small feet.

“I doubt it,” Len says.

“Just watch where you step,” I say, and turn to the still-hovering longboat. “Let’s go and get some answers,” I mutter.

Chapter 6

Lyssa

Ifeel tiny as we move through the maze of ships hovering motionless under the platform. A gentle breeze rolls over us as the longboat drifts along, but the temperature never changes in the skies of Olympus.

Lucas is shifting in his seat, then points abruptly to a gargantuan ship we are passing, with a full-sized swimming pool set between masts twice the size of the Alastor’s, and palm trees lining the deck.

“No way,” he breathes. “I never thought I’d see a Zephyr-class ship this big.” To my surprise, his awestruck face feels like an antidote to my increasing anxiety, so I resist the urge to tell him to shut up, and try to embrace his youthful naivety.

“Why are you so into ships?” I ask him.

“My carer before I lived in the slums was a shipwright.”

“Huh. That’s good work, if you can get it.”

He nods, still gazing at the fancy Zephyr, and I don’t ask how he ended up parting ways with the shipwright. Another pang of sympathy pulls at me.

“Go on, then, tell me all about the ships here,” I say, folding my arms and leaning back.

“Really?”

“Sure. Why not.”

Epizon gives my a sideways smile, and Len leans forward. It’s highly unlikely Lucas knows anything he doesn’t, but the little satyr is a learning machine, absorbing information like a sponge.

“So although that’s a particularly large one, most Zephyrs are that size,” he says, pointing to a smaller one farther away. “They’re the largest class of ship in Olympus. They were originally designed as cargo ships, so the cargo deck is massive, and really tall, but now they double up as luxury cruising ships, like the one with the pool. Apparently, Achilles has a Zephyr with the cargo deck turned into a show hall for all his longboats.” His eyes get glassy. “Zeus’s balls, I’d love to see that.”

“I guess Zephyrs have three masts and sails because they need more solar power to run?” Epizon asks. He’s humoring the kid, but Lucas nods enthusiastically.

“They sure do, but they can’t really run out of power, not as long as there’s light for the solar sails. And it’s never dark in most of Olympus, so we’re all good. Zephyrs also have a quarterdeck at both ends of the top deck, so you can steer from either end, which is pretty good. Of course, the best ships ever made, that’s Whirlwinds.” He starts swiveling in his seat, trying to find one to point out.

I cough.

“After your Alastor, obviously,” he says distractedly. “There’s one!” He waves excitedly at a ship that is nowhere near as big as the Zephyr, but stands out all the same. “The outside is encased in metal. They’re battleships. Those towers all along the edges are weapons turrets; they all have ballistae in them. They’re basically giant crossbows. And you see how the back of the ship is raised really high? The quarterdeck is high up so the captain can see what’s happening in all the ballista towers. Three masts again, but the sails are much higher up so they don’t block the view from the quarterdeck.”

“One of many reasons my Crosswind is better,” I say. “I wouldn’t trade the view of my sails for any number of weapons.’

“Then it’s just as well Crosswinds can outrun ballistae, cap.” Len grins at me.

“The Alastor is faster than any normal Crosswind, and you know it,” I say.

“Look, that’s a Typhoon,” Lucas says. “A two-mast ship but much longer, and they have ballistae and a small sail on the front. You’ll see how much pointier the front is when we go past in a minute.”

I look again at the Whirlwind battleship as we float past, trying to read the name on the side. I’m looking for the Hybris. The ancient word for “pride.” That anyone could take pride in what that monster has done makes me feel sick.

This ship is called Pali, meaning “fight.” I turn and look back at my own ship, which seems tiny moored between the dozens of larger ships.

She may be small, but she’s fast. And she’s mine.

Lucas chatters on as we approach the platform, but as my apprehension grows I realize I’m not hearing his words anymore.

When the longboat finally crests the edge of the platform, bright light, no longer blocked out, makes us all squint. The longboat lowers securely into a gap in a short pier that juts out of a platform made of white and gray-veined marble.

Everyone draws a breath, Lucas falling totally quiet.

There are buildings at each end of the platform, in the ancient temple style, with huge white fluted stone columns holding up a triangular roof. One has deep blue curtains across the front of it, the backdrop to a large staging area with steps running down from all three sides.

The other building is a mirror image but has blood-red curtains, and the staging area holds twelve great white stone thrones. They’re empty.

I can see an ocean of creatures between the steps of the two temples. Humans, centaurs, satyrs, giants, Cyclopes; all manner of Olympian citizens are moving around rows of long marble benches, talking, taking drinks from trays offered by doulos.

White clouds drift above us, crackling with sparkling purple energy. They are the same lightning-filled clouds that surround Zeus’s sky realm, Leo. Their stark whiteness is emphasized by the brightly colored clouds swirling beyond them in the skies.

If Zeus’s clouds are here, then Zeus is here.

And if Zeus is here…

My stomach churns and I force myself to accept the reality of what is about to happen.

If Zeus is here, then it’s even more likely that his son will be too.

My father.

Chapter 7

Lyssa

Istand, relieved my legs are steady, and climb from the longboat onto the platform. Epizon follows me, pausing to help Lucas and Len out. With the huge black tear in the otherwise vivid skies of Olympus below us, I don’t blame them for accepting his steadying hand.

The only reason the Void exists is so that the gods can demonstrate the limitless extent of their power. They can create and destroy anything. The fact that they can also sling anything that displeases them into it is a happy bonus.

My heart is skipping in my chest, my skin tingling, as I make my way slowly into the throng of people.

He’s here somewhere. I know he is.

I’m looking so intently for him across the far rows of benches that I don’t see the muscular, white-haired man until I’ve walked straight into his chest.

“Shit!” I stumble, and my boot catches his.

“You kiss your father with that mouth?” The clear aristocratic voice accompanies strong hands gripping my shoulders and stopping me from falling.

Little does he know, he couldn’t have chosen a worse thing to say.

“Who I kiss is none of your fucking business,” I snap as I shrug overly hard out of his grip.

He steps back, holding his hands up. “Got it. No kiss-and-tell here. Sorry.”

My retort dies on my lips as I look at him. Holy Hades, there’s no way this guy isn’t a demigod.

He’s six feet tall, and wearing a long red coat with no shirt beneath it. The chest I walked into is solid, packed muscle. I scan the expensive leather trousers, finely made belt, exquisite gems set into the dagger at his hip, and fancy gold trim on the shoulders of his coat.

He’s rich.

And unnecessarily gorgeous.

He’s smiling, and his eyes are smiling too. Big brown eyes, sparking with life and laughter. Full lips, a strong, square jaw, and silver-white hair to his shoulders pushed back from his face.

I scowl. Men who look like this are an instant red flag. Rich and attractive means one thing. Entitled. They expect the world to fall at their feet because it always has. I’ve known plenty of people like this peacock.

“Who doesn’t wear a shirt under a coat?” I ask aloud.

He raises his eyebrows and his smile widens. “My attire offends you?”

“You’re showing off.”

He glances down at his hard, smooth chest. “Perhaps.” He grins. “But folk rarely complain.”

“Well, I’m not ‘folk,’” I say, rolling my eyes.

“No? Special, are you?”

“No! I’m just not as easy to impress as all these other sycophants,” I mutter.

He puts his hands on his hips, eyes shining. “So, you’re not special but you’re better than everyone else here. Got it.”

I grind my teeth, and turn to look for Epizon before I punch this idiot. He’s a few feet behind me, and I can just hear Lucas talking at a hundred miles an hour next to him.

“So, which god invited you here, special girl?”

I snap back to the peacock. “What?”

“We all got invited by a god. Which one invited you?”

It hadn’t occurred to me that the idiot might know something helpful. Epizon steps up beside me, and the peacock nods at him. “Good day.”

“Good day,” Epizon answers. Lucas and Len peer around my huge first mate. The peacock smiles.

“Who invited you?” I ask.

“My father.”

I knew he was the son of a god. Nobody carries this much confidence if they can’t back it up to some extent. “And who is your father?”

“Dionysus.”

This guy is definitely trouble. Everyone knows you stay the fuck away from the god of wine’s followers—especially if you still have your virginity, dignity, or a desire to remember your own actions.

My reaction must show on my face, because he gives me another lip-quirk grin. “Wow. You are incredibly judgmental.”

A growl rumbles in my throat. “Go find some clothes,” I mutter, deciding that whatever use he might be for finding information, he’s not worth it.

“Tell me who invited you here,” he says, and the lightness is no longer in his tone. He’s not stern, but something has hardened.

“Why do you want to know?”

“Because, as you’ve so succinctly pointed out to me, you don’t fit in here. You or your crew.” He smiles at Epizon, as if to say “no offense,” and Epizon shrugs. It’s quite difficult to offend Epizon. Me, on the other hand…

“My crew are none of your business.”

“Prickly.”

“What?”

“You’re so prickly.”

“And you’re a prick.”

Epizon leans across me. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, son of Dionysus.”

The peacock holds out his hand. “Alexios.”

Epizon shakes it. “Alexios. Do you know why the gods have brought us all to this place?”

“No. I just know that it’s invite only.”

He’s lying. He’s looking at Ep, but I can see the shifting in his eyes.

“Let’s go,” I say, and before Epizon can say another word, I stride away.

I’m short enough that I can get lost amongst the much larger creatures here, but my flame-red hair means I’ll be found eventually. I make the most of the few moments to cast my eyes around.

I still can’t see him. Which is a good thing. If he was here he’d be surrounded by fawning assholes, booming away about some horseshit feat he’d achieved.

Alexios the peacock is of his world, and I want nothing to do with any of it.

“Captain, he could have been useful.”

I sigh and see Epizon stepping around a centaur, trying not to stare and failing. Centaurs are rarely seen in Olympus, living only on Artemis’s forbidden realm of Sagittarius.

“I don’t care. He’s an idiot.”

“He’s a famous idiot,” says Len.

Lucas nods. “I’ve heard of him too. I think he has a—”

I hold my hand up. “I don’t care what he has. I don’t care about him at all. I care about why we are here, and which god is responsible.”

“Citizens of Olympus!” The voice booms through the space, and at least half the folk present startle. “Please be seated.”

Murmurs start, mostly about which way to face. I sit on the bench right next to me, facing the stage with the thrones. My crew do the same. I glance at Lucas. He’s wide-eyed and alert, but he doesn’t seem frightened. Or acting suspicious.

“Consider yourself honored and humbled in the presence of your gods!” the voice roars suddenly, and my attention moves off Lucas as the red curtains lift.

My gasp is lost in hundreds of others.

All twelve gods of Olympus step out of the shadows of the temple entrance and move to their thrones.

The awed silence breaks as one centaur starts clapping. Within seconds, the applause is deafening.

I clap along with them, heart racing. All twelve gods? Fuck, whatever this is, it is big. They don’t get together like this often, and not in front of Olympus’s finest. Plus me.

A compulsion to kneel and wave and bow washes over me. Doing my best to ignore it, I try to concentrate on the details, take in the images of the infamous gods who rule the world I live in.

Zeus is in the middle, with Hera on his right. His bearded, handsome face is the most recognizable, given that he is the lord of the gods. Hera stands out next to him, her dark skin and black hair contrasting with the glittering teal and blue jewels she wears.

On Hera’s right is Poseidon, distinguishable by his long silver hair and beard. Next to him is Aphrodite. She is harder to recognize, as she changes her appearance regularly, but her beauty surpasses the others’ at any distance. Today she has dusty-pink hair flowing to her feet, merging seamlessly with her dress and warm brown skin. She’s one of the few gods smiling.

I assume the stooped, broad, dark-haired god wearing a leather tabard at her side is her husband, Hephaestus. He’s rarely seen, and I try to study his scowling face and oil-covered clothes.

On his right, in the last two thrones, are the twins Artemis and Apollo. Artemis is smaller than the other figures, lithe and young-looking, with blonde hair in thin braids. Apollo is as blond as his sister and is smiling broadly and waving to the crowd.

On Zeus’s left is Athena. She’s dressed in a traditional toga, her long braid wrapped neatly around her head like a crown. Next to her is Ares. He’s the largest of the gods, larger even than Zeus, rippling with muscles. He wears an ancient-style plumed helmet that covers his face and, as far as I know, his face has never been seen by a mortal.

To his left is Dionysus. He’s the antithesis of Ares’s solid seriousness, smiling and waving, slouched in his chair. By a long way, he looks the most normal of the gods, wearing human-style clothes and sporting a mop of messy, dark hair. Hermes is next to him, looking restless and bored. He has red hair and a red beard, and my eyes are drawn to his famous winged boots.

Last in the row, and by far the most interesting, is Hades. This is a god whose realm, Virgo, is hidden in the core of Olympus and is almost impossible to get to. Many images of Hades are in circulation, but even those who live on Virgo don’t know which are accurate. It could be all of them, or none of them. Today won’t be the day Olympus finds out—the being in the last throne is nothing more than a swirling mass of black smoke. It’s humanoid in shape, but it doesn’t settle long enough to give any indication of features.

“Your gods!” the commentator booms. “You are here today to witness something never seen before in Olympus! Are you ready?”

I tense. I’m ready to be done with this infernal, sycophantic game-playing horseshit and go back to finding out what the fuck I have swimming around on my cargo deck.

“The gods have chosen to bless us with an opportunity never before possible!”

The crowd cheers and whoops, until Athena stands from her throne, and a hushed silence falls over everybody.

“We have agreed, citizens of Olympus, to bend one of our most sacred rules.” For a beat I swear her eyes find mine in the crowd. “We have decided to grant mortals immortality.”

Instant uproar occurs. Gasps, cheers, loud chatter.

“I thought the gods weren’t able to make people immortal,” I breathe.

“The gods are able to do anything they like,” Len says, excitedly. “They choose not to do some things for prosperity. The gods tire of the same company quickly—if they all went around making their favorites immortal, it would only take a few millennia for there to be no mortals left.”

Zeus stands, and silence falls again.

“Mortals will have to earn this revered prize, and it will not be easy.” His voice is like liquid silk, deep and soft, and in that moment, it’s all I want to hear for the rest of my life. “Each of the twelve gods has devised a Trial in their own realm that will kill all but the strongest of heroes. Only four may compete, and after much deliberation”—he casts a dark look at Athena—“we have made three selections.”

A new, sick feeling spreads through me.

If Zeus has chosen his son to compete for immortality…

No.

No, there’s no way they can give that monster a chance to live forever. Surely not.

My head spins at the horror as it filters through me. I’ve spent my life wishing my father were dead. There surely can’t be a version of this world where he not only gets away with what he did, not only becomes celebrated and admired, but then gets to live forever? To have an eternity to cause pain and harm and inflict cruelty?

No. No, they can’t do this.

I almost stand, but Epizon’s large hand shoots out, pulling my shoulder down.

“Lyssa, no. Twelve gods are up there—what do you think you can do?”

His voice is in my head, and I can’t come up with a response. I’m spiraling, fear, anger, injustice—

“You don’t even know if they’ve chosen him.”

I suck down air. This hits home. It’s true. He may not even be here.

Hera stands, and when she speaks I think her lyrical voice might be even more beautiful than Zeus’s. “The fourth hero will be chosen at random from anybody who chooses to enter their name here today. Be aware that these Trials are deadly. It is highly unlikely that all will survive. The prize of an eternal life must come at great risk, and only a hero will be worthy.”

Poseidon stands. He looks bored and annoyed. “Without further delay, meet the heroes already chosen to compete.” He holds his hand out toward the other stage, and everyone turns.

The gleeful roar of the commentator rings out. “Presenting your first hero, son of Zeus, captain of the Hybris, the mighty Hercules!”

MEGARA:

Husband, spare my life, I beg you. I am Megara. This is your son. He has your looks. See how he comes to you.

HERCULES:

This is not my son. It is the son of my enemy. Before his own mother, let this little monster die.

MEGARA:

You will shed your own blood? You are a madman.

HERCULES’S FATHER, AMPHITRYON: Stricken with terror of his father’s blazing eyes, the child died before he ever felt the blow, fear snatching his life away. Hercules now raised his heavy club against his wife and crushed her bones, her head removed from her mangled body completely.

EXCERPT FROM

Hercules Furens by Seneca Written 421–416 B.C.

Paraphrased by Eliza Raine

Chapter 8

Lyssa

The world tilts, my vision narrowing, reddening.

Air isn’t entering my lungs.

The gods did it. They fucking did it.

For a second I truly think I’m going to be sick.

The cheering is deafening, but all I can hear is the blood pounding in my ears. I’m on my feet with everyone else, but I don’t what to do, how to react, what to feel—I’m numb.

How can they cheer a man capable of what this monster has done?

Hercules steps out into view, waving.

Somehow, he’s still familiar. He’s more muscular now, and his dark hair and beard are longer, in an effort to imitate or impress his own father, perhaps.

Dark spots appear in the corners of my eyes, and I can see nothing but his face.

“Your second hero, son of Poseidon, captain of the Virtus, the witty Theseus!”

The boom of the commentator’s voice is distant.

I try to take deep breaths, my sweaty hands clenched hard as Theseus strides out into view, waving cheerfully to the screaming audience.

“Your third hero, son of Poseidon, captain of the Orion, the colossal Antaeus!” rings the voice.

A shirtless giant steps through the curtain. The applause is again deafening.

How… how can they do this?

“I agree that it is a bad choice indeed.”

The voice that answers my thoughts makes me jump so hard I whirl around, Epizon catching my arms.

“Athena?” I’m hyperventilating, and sit down hard on the bench, dropping my head between my knees.

I haven’t felt like this since I was a child. Since that night. Epizon moves, yanking Lucas to stand the other side of me, ensuring their bodies conceal me from the crowd. Len is by my side, but I can’t hear what he’s saying.

“Hercules is a cruel man.” Athena’s voice speaks again in my mind. “I regret that the gods did not punish him for what he did to your family.”

“Why? Why is this happening?” It’s all I can choke out. I’m regressing, years of strength, of fortitude, of carefully constructed armor, crumbling around me. I’m a child again, screaming, covered in blood.

“You are my choice of hero for the Trials.”

I gasp for breath. She can’t have just said that. “No,” I say.

“I believe you are the only person who can stop him from winning. Zeus blocked me from putting you straight in, but I have secured assistance in ensuring that if you put your name in the lottery, you will be selected.”

“No. No, I can’t. I won’t.” It’s the child answering, cowering in fear, unable to fight, only able to run.

“Yes, you can. If you don’t, he will win. And he will have eternity to become any kind of monster he likes.”

I can’t make words anymore. I’m supposed to be free of him. I left it all behind me.

I ran.

Athena’s voice answers my thought. “And then you found the fastest ship you could, and you kept running. You have been ever since.”

My world spins around me, my shallow breaths impossible to cling to as the truth of her words smashes through my mental armor, completely obliterating it.

I’m not free of him. I never have been.

If I were truly free, I wouldn’t have been tricked into stealing for a vampire.

I wouldn’t be making desperate decisions to keep my crew fed on a more and more regular basis.

I would laugh more. I might actually feel happy, once in a while. Hopeful, even.

The sour mass in the pit of my stomach, always there, always bitter and angry and unfulfilled, won’t force me to keep moving, to avoid any news of what that monster will get away with today.

“You father has never been punished for his crimes, and that is a truth you will never be able to outrun. You will never be truly free until he is.”

She’s right. The spinning stops, the clarity of her words drowning out everything else.

I will never truly be free until he pays for what he did.

But how? How can I face him? He’s the strongest man in the fucking world.

Immortality. The word rings through my mind.

Fuck, how can I not face him? He can’t live forever. He simply can’t.

My Rage jolts to life. I straighten with a hiss, my lungs clearing, my breathing easier.

“I will do what I can to help you, Lyssa, but you must put your name in. You must do that of your own free will.”

Anger is flooding me now, chasing out the toxic fear. I cling to it, welcome it, will it to flow through me, to strengthen me.

Epizon, Len, and Lucas come into focus, all speaking, and as Athena’s presence fades, their words become clear. I hold up my hands to stop them.

“Athena wants me to enter. She’ll ensure I win the lottery,” I say breathily, my lungs still catching up on missing air.

Epizon’s face is tight, Len’s pales, and Lucas’s mouth falls open.

“Are you going to do it?” he whispers.

“My father murdered my mother and brother, and instead of being punished, he became famous.” I fix my eyes on Lucas, drawing deep breaths. “He claimed Hera made him do it out of jealousy, and the monsters that rule this world chose to believe him. Chose to excuse him.”

Roiling heat burns through me, and I embrace it. Red tinges my vision. The fear is at bay, the fury too much for it to battle.

“Every year, he gets more power, more fame, more wealth. The more publicly cruel he is, the more he gains. He is utterly remorseless.” My voice becomes a hiss. “Bored gods have turned my father into the most dangerous fucking man Olympus knows. Can you imagine if he becomes immortal?”

Lucas stares at me and gives his head the smallest shake.

“She’s going to compete and she’s going to win,” says Epizon quietly.

A snaking tendril of fear breaks through the churning barrier of anger. It’s not just fear of my father. It’s fear of failing. Of getting my crew hurt. And, buried as deep inside myself as it can be, a fear of fueling my own monster.

“You’re not alone this time, Lyssa.”

I look at Epizon as his words sound in my head.

“You’ll… you’ll stay with me? Risk your life in the Trials?”

“Of course I will. And not to try to win immortality, but because we have an obligation to stop him. Athena chose you for a reason.”

I repeat his words in my head.

We have an obligation to stop him.

It’s time to stop running.

I’m no longer the girl who could do nothing but watch as Hercules killed her mother and brother.

I’m no longer the girl who ran, taking as many silver drachmas as she could carry.

That girl is gone.

I’m a woman now, with a ship, and friends, and power. A woman who will stand and fight.

And it’s up to me to slay the monster.

Chapter 9

Lyssa

“Len, when I put my name in, it’s just for me, you understand? You are in no way obligated to enter.”

The satyr blinks up at me. “Cap, are you kidding? Of course I’m coming too. Imagine being immortal!”

I shake my head and point at the stage, refusing to look at Hercules. “Those are real heroes, Len. Not a diluted descendant with a damaged smuggler’s ship. We’re entering to try to sabotage and stop Hercules. We’ve got no chance of winning, and every chance of dying in the process.”

Len stamps a hoof. “Then you can’t possibly expect your medic to abandon you.”

I glare at him. “Len.”

“Captain,” he answers, “I’m a member of this crew, and you know as well as I do that you’ll do better with me on board.”

He’s absolutely right. His knowledge alone has got us out of more scrapes than I can count, let alone his very valid healing skills.

“If you die—”

“Then I’ll find a way to haunt you and ensure your eternal guilt.”

I pause and glance at Epizon. “It’s up to him, captain. He can make his own choices,” he replies.

“Len, if you’re sure…”

“One hundred percent. No doubt at all.”

“Fine,” I say, folding my arms.

“Erm, Captain Lyssa?”

I look at Lucas. “Oh no, buddy boy. Not a chance.”

“You wouldn’t have to pay me! And it’s not like I’ll live long on Libra anyway! And technically I should have died in Lady Lamia’s ship, so I’m already on borrowed time! I’m a good worker, and I can help with repairs, and—”

“You’re a child,” I half shout at him, cutting him off. “I can’t let you enter a deadly competition for immortality, for Fates’ sakes!”

“If he gets to make his own choices, why can’t I?” he says, folding his arms and scowling.

“Lucas, you’re not old enough to do this.”

“I wasn’t old enough to be a kidnapped doulos for a vampire either,” he retorts.

Gods above, but I can’t help admire this kid’s tenacity.

“Fine! I’ll think about it.” I throw my hands in the air. “Just stop talking until we’re off this horseshit platform, and I’ll think about it.”

His face lights up. “I will, Captain Lyssa! I promise I’ll—”

“I can still hear you, Lucas.”

He mimes zipping his mouth, his pale lips dry and cracked.

I fist my hands on my hips and close my eyes. “Epizon, find out where I’m supposed to put my name in. Len, tell me about the other two on stage.”

I know I’m going to have to look properly. I can’t avoid seeing his face forever, not if this is really happening.

The cheering has died out but the excited buzz of chatter still fills the air, and when I force my eyes open and focus, I see all three men on the stage are still preening and waving.

Well, the enormous figure at the end isn’t preening, exactly. More shaking his fist awkwardly.

“I don’t know much about the giant Antaeus. I know that his whole crew are giants or half giants.”

“His ship’s a Zephyr, then?” asks Lucas, then looks apologetically at me and re-mimes zipping his mouth.

“Yeah. He’s a good guy, by all accounts. World famous for boxing.”

I force my way through the crowd, moving closer. Len and Lucas hurry after me.

Antaeus is about ten feet tall, and he’s covered in muscle. He’s shirtless, and wearing green canvas trousers tucked into huge black boots. As I get closer I see that his torso is covered in tattoos of snakes, all different colors and sizes, slithering across his skin, their long bodies entwining and curling around each other. I’ve seen moving tattoos many times but never with such lifelike quality.

If he’s a boxer then the scars on his face and the clearly previously broken nose are no surprise. There’s no doubting he’s a son of Poseidon when I see his bright blue eyes under heavy black eyebrows.

I move my gaze to Theseus, trying to keep my breathing level, and keep up a steady flow of Rage to hold the fear at bay.

I’ve not been this close to him since that night.

“Well, you’ve heard of Theseus, obviously,” Len says.

I have. Everyone in Olympus has.

Theseus lives with the favor of Aphrodite, and everything comes easily to him.

He’s outrageously good-looking, blessed with rich brown skin and dark, wavy hair that falls messily to his shoulders, interspersed with braids. Warm brown eyes crinkle when his full lips smile, and his easy confidence only increases his appeal.

“He has a Typhoon, but it’s set up as a pleasure cruiser. He’s not known for sailing with a crew, so I don’t know who he’ll have with him. Perhaps Hedone, the goddess of pleasure? She’s often with him. And likely Psyche, his bodyguard.”

“Theseus needs a bodyguard?” I frown as I look at his body, packed with muscle, his gleaming sword, and his shining slingshot.

“No, probably not. But Psyche is famously fierce. I wouldn’t mess with her.”

I glance down at the tiny satyr. If I were his size, I wouldn’t mess with anyone. The fear pierces the barrier again. Please, Athena, don’t let my friends die for this.

I swallow hard, then look back at the stage. At the last hero.

Hero. The word churns my already roiling stomach.

He looks the part. Dark, huge, handsome.

I look away, feeling a surge of relief when I spot Epizon pushing through the crowd.

He passes me a small scroll when he reaches us. “Just sign your name, captain, then drop it in the urn at the end of the throne stage.”

Len yanks a small pencil from his belt pouch, and I write, Lyssa of the Alastor, on the paper, puncturing it with the lead more than once.

“Here goes nothing,” I mutter, dragging my resolve around me and making my way toward the opposite stage.

I feel eyes on me as I move, but the crowd doesn’t seem remotely interested in a small, red-headed human in their midst. I keep searching until I find my watcher.

Alexios, the peacock. He smiles as he watches me reach the urn, and when I scowl at him, he gives me a wave.

I shake my head. I wonder if he put his name in? I wonder if he even has a ship? He must do—he’ll be wealthy enough.

With a last breath, I close my eyes and drop the paper into the tall vase. There’s a popping sound and I open my eyes, seeing a puff of pink smoke.

There you go, Athena. I did it. The rest is up to you.

Chapter 10

Alexios

It feels like an age, waiting for the few brave enough in the milling crowd to put their names in the urn.

I’m not in the least bit surprised to see the angry redhead put her name in. I know exactly who she is. And I suspect her motivation has less to do with an eternal life, and more to do with the competition.

I glance over at her father. The three heroes on stage are clearly bored now. Chairs have been brought for them, and the waves at the crowd are less frequent.

The giant is fascinating, and I look forward to getting to know more about him.

“Now?”

I smile at the voice in my head. “No. Not yet.”

“Are you sure?”

“Quite.”

I hear a mental sigh. “But I’m hungry.”

“You’re always hungry. Self-control is a hard-won victory. Ask me how I know.”

“Five minutes left! And then we will, with no further ado, announce our final hero!” The commentator’s voice booms through the space, and the chatter renews with vigor.

“Ah, Alexios! What a pleasure!”

I plaster a smile on my face as the ghastly Mrs. Codridae saunters over to me. She’s wearing something huge on her head that, ironically, has come from a peacock.

I take her proffered hand. “You look delightful as always,” I say, beaming.

Fuck, but these people are boring.

“As do you.” Her eyes roam obviously over my bare chest. Exactly why I wear no shirt, special girl.

“I’m quite sure one as lovely as you has heard everything there is to hear today,” I say, fixing my eyes on hers and projecting my smile into them. Just a tiny bit too slowly, I lick my lips.

I see her cheeks tint and her eyelids hood. Easy pickings.

“Well, I hear Hercules is keeping his crew small. So as not to share the prize, of course.”

“Wise.” I nod. “And Theseus?”

“Already chosen his crew too, four of them.”

Shit. I expected it, but it’s still annoying to have it confirmed. “Including the goddess of pleasure, no doubt?”

“Of course.” She smiles. “And two warriors.”

“If the Trials are as deadly as we’ve been led to believe, also wise,” I say.

“Indeed.”

There is no point asking about the giant’s crew. “And who do we think the gods will choose as their fourth hero?”

“Well, I have to assume it will be Achilles or Perseus. But neither are here today.”

“Perseus is currently lost to the mortal realm,” I say, musing out loud. Her interest instantly piques.

“He is?”

I tap my nose. “Information only for you, Mrs. Codridae. And do you have something as juicy in return for me?”

She leans in, smiling. She smells like lavender. I fucking hate lavender.

“Rumor has it that the girl who fled Hercules is here.”

Useless. I already knew that. I school my face, though, and play the fool. It doesn’t do to look too well informed. Folk stop risking their secrets with you, when they think you know everything.

“Really? His daughter?”

“All that nonsense about him killing his family.” She waves her hand. “Look at him! Does he look like a killer to you?”

We both look over at Hercules. He’s famously a killer. All his victims started out being dressed by those in charge as villains, but over the years, they’ve seemed more indiscriminate.

But wealthy aristocracy like Mrs. Codridae rub shoulders with the likes of Hercules, and if she has to lie to herself to sleep at night, then that’s her problem, not mine.

“Why would his wayward daughter be here? Nobody has heard of her in decades,” I say, instead of answering the question.

She shrugs. “One of the gods wants her here, I suppose.” Her smile broadens. “They do love drama, our mighty deities.”

“That they do.”

“And they’re not exactly known for playing by the rules.”

I smile again. “They make the rules. Why should they play by them?”

She gives a tinkling laugh that gives me an instant headache, and is mercifully cut off by the commentator.

“Citizens of Olympus, your attention please!”

Everyone falls silent. The three heroes already on the stage stand up.

Slowly, and to rapturous applause, the twelve gods re-emerge onto the opposite stage.

I avoid looking at my father, instead scanning the crowd.

It could be any of us.

I fix my easy smile in place.

“Please meet your fourth and last hero, granddaughter of Zeus, captain of the Alastor, the fiery Lyssa!” bellows the commentator.

A few dozen feet away, the red-haired girl floats up from the marble, eyes wide with alarm. Her feet kick as she’s levitated toward the stage, and then she tenses, rigid, when she locks eyes with Hercules.

For a beat, he looks startled, then a slow smile takes his face.

I clench my teeth under my own smile, a mix of emotion whirring through me as a I clap along with everyone else. Hercules’s name can be heard in every group of chatter as they piece together who “Captain Lyssa” is.

“Now?” says the voice in my head.

“No. Not yet.”

“What are we waiting for?”

“We need a new plan.”

“Why?”

“We weren’t chosen.”

“Oh.”

“And the girl who was chosen is not going to give us an invitation.”

There’s a pause. “Girl?”

“Yes. Woman, I guess, if you want to be age specific.”

Another pause. “I may have a new plan.”

Chapter 11

Lyssa

This isn’t me. I don’t parade around in front of cheering crowds. I’m a smuggler, for fuck’s sake. I hide. I run.

I can’t do this.

Bile rises in my throat as my feet touch down on the marble, next to the giant. I can’t hear the crowd over the blood pounding in my ears.

“Enjoy this, Captain Lyssa.” Athena’s voice cuts through it. “You are one of their heroes.”

I seek the goddess’s face in the great stone throne across the platform, and I can instantly breathe easier. I take a step forward.

I think the crowd gets a little louder. I drag my eyes from Athena and make myself look around at the faces below me.

A lot of them are not looking at me—they are looking at the more impressive and famous captains beside me, or are still staring in awe at the gods in the opposite direction.

But more than half do have their attention on me.

I am no longer the girl who ran. I am no longer the girl who hides.

“Smile,” says Athena. “It will help your cause if they like you.”

I don’t want, or need, a single one of these people to like me to give this competition everything I’ve got.

But I do want them to hate Hercules. It wouldn’t hurt my chances to have the elite turn on him, would it?

Now that I’m here, I have to play the game. Athena is right. It will help my cause if they like me.

I force a smile onto my face, tentatively raising one hand.

“Well done,” says Athena.

I try to stop my grimace from taking over the fake smile, and wave for another few moments. It’s all I can manage, though, and it’s with a heaving sigh of relief that I take a step back into the shadow of the giant again.

Zeus stands up. “Let me make the rules clear. Each of the twelve gods of Olympus has devised a dangerous and difficult Trial in their own realm. The crew who has won the most of these events at the end of all twelve will be granted immortality.”

He pauses, and hundreds of wide-eyed, silent faces stare at him.

“Eternal life!” he roars with a laugh, throwing his arms up in the air. “What a prize!”

Excitement hums through the audience.

“And, of course, for a prize so unprecedented, we have had to make sure our Trials are impossible for all but the most special heroes.” He gestures at us. “Most of them will die.”

Antaeus twitches next to me.

“The captains shall all receive the same information at the same time, via flame dish,” Zeus continues. “Only once a Trial has been won will the next be revealed. Heroes, tonight you will dine together, at a feast in my name. Tomorrow, the first Trial will be revealed. Feast now and enjoy what might be your last. If you survive, you will be celebrated. If you win, you will live forever!”

More applause erupts from the crowd.

Tomorrow? Fuck. That leaves barely any time at all to repair the damage we took just a few hours ago, and none to replace our broken longboat or stock up with supplies. The other ships will already be well stocked, I’m sure. The Alastor has enough food for maybe a week—less if I listen to my frustratingly loud instinct to keep Lucas on—and the best woodcrafter in the world would struggle to repair what is left of our longboat.

I swallow hard, my head and body aching with unspent power.

What I wouldn’t give to be back on the Alastor, channeling all this energy into the mast of my ship. I want to tear through endless skies, swirling, glittering clouds blasting past me, cool air fresh against the fierce heat of the Rage.

But freedom like that is no longer an option.

I have to be a part of this, no matter how dangerous it will be. I have to save Olympus from Hercules’s unending cruelty. The man who destroyed everything I loved.

A shiver ripples through me, and mercifully it’s the Rage, not the fear.

Athena has awoken the desire for revenge that I buried so deeply, and now I allow it to blossom, to unfurl, to work its way through my system. I absorb it fully, hatred and anger and almighty retribution mingling and merging with the blood and the magic in my veins.

His magic.

Can I kill him?

“Most of them will die.”

I replay Zeus’s words in my mind, and I could swear the king of the gods looks my way.

I turn my head, leaning forward to look down the row, past the giant.

Hercules is doing the same. Leaning out and looking at me.

He smiles, and the fury catches, ignites, surges through me like life itself.

I will kill him. I have to.

Hercules must die.

Chapter 12

Lyssa

Zeus claps, and everyone falls silent. “Go back to your ships, and await the longboats for the feast this evening. Heroes, use this time before the commencement of the Immortality Trials well.”

With a white flash, all the gods disappear. I hurry down the steps at the front of the stage immediately, to where my crew have gathered. I avoid looking at anyone, ignore the shouts and calls of the people around us.

“Come on, Zeus is right. We need to get every drop of use out of this time.”

I force my way through the crowd—easier when the huge Epizon is waving them out of the way, and we make our way to one of hundreds of waiting longboats at the edge of the platform.

I need to be back on my ship. I need to work some of this emotion out of my body.

As the longboat sinks below the platform edge, I get a glimpse of the peacock, still watching.

“Epizon, I need you three to make sure the hull repairs are as tight as they can be. We can’t risk any damage.”

Epizon nods as he vaults over the edge of the little boat onto the deck of the Alastor.

He lifts Len over the railing. The little satyr bristles, but lets him. I give Lucas a hand and half yank him onto the planks. He yelps and rubs his shoulder. I’m struggling to control my strength.

“Len, go and do an inventory of food, medical supplies, and repair materials. And drachmas. If we get any chance at all to stop during the Trials, we need to be in and out with what we need, no time wasted.”

“Yes, cap.”

“If we get a chance to stop?” says Lucas slowly.

I give him my best glare. “Even with a speed boost from me, the Void is too remote to get anywhere and back in the four hours we have. So there is no time to drop you off. And even I’m not enough of an asshole enough to leave you on a marble platform over an endless void.”

His eyes shine, but he keeps his lips pressed together.

“It is not fair for you to compete in the first Trial tomorrow, and then make you leave afterward either. So, apparently, you are now part of my crew.”

His lips part in a beam.

“As soon as it is safe to leave, you can if you want to. You are beholden to nothing, got it?”

“But you won’t kick me off the ship?”

“No. Not if you take part tomorrow. Once you’re in, you’re in.”

He nods fervently. “What can I do now?”

“You can call me captain, and you can go and have a bath,” I say.

“Good idea, captain,” says Epizon, wrinkling his nose.

“Lucas, what are your skills?”

“I can clean, and I can sew. I’m pretty handy with tools, and I’m a fast study.” He blinks at me, and when I say nothing, he hurriedly adds, “Captain.”

“Sewing is good.” I fucking hate sewing, and Len is slow as shit. “Len, find him some of mine and Ep’s old clothes.”

“Yes, cap.”

“Lucas, alter what you can to fit you. And see what you can do about some boots.” I look down at his bare feet and rub my hands over my eyes. “Fates, am I really letting a kid with no fucking shoes compete in the most dangerous competition Olympus has ever seen?”

“It’s his choice, captain. And on this ship, we’re nothing if we don’t have our own choices,” Epizon rumbles.

“Fine. I’m going to see if there’s any hope at all for the dead longboat. Report back here in four hours, dressed for the feast.”

There’s a chorus of “yes, captain,” and everyone disperses.

I move to the front of the ship and stare at the longboat we destroyed whilst stealing the crate. Shit, I still have an unidentified creature in my fucking cargo deck to deal with.

Focus, Lyssa. One infernal problem at a time.

Dressing for a feast in the gods’ honor, amongst Olympus’s finest, is not something I am especially well prepared for.

I very rarely have to dress nicely, and the clothes I reserve for the rare occasions are at the very bottom of the chest at the end of my bunk. I dig through my usual attire of supple but protective leather trousers and stacks of green and black shirts until I find the silk toga at the bottom. It’s slinky, black, and only really been used when I’ve needed to act as a distraction in some plan. Or on the infrequent occasions that I crave male company.

I stare at the dress, and my face creases into a scowl.

I’m still terrified of what might be coming, fearful for my crew’s wellbeing, and pissed as Hades that I’ve been thrust into this without a choice.

But fortunately, I’m also alight with anticipation, and absolutely certain that Athena is right. It can only be me who does this. It should be me.

I want it to be me.

I toss the dress onto the bed. It’s not right for the occasion. I’m the only female, amongst three huge men. I’m not showing up in a slinky dress. I’m showing up as who I am—Captain Lyssa of the Alastor.

I clench my teeth at the thought. If we survive this, then my ship will be recognizable. Our smuggling days might be over.

Shit, would I be famous? I can’t think of anything worse, and my head throbs.

Shoving the thought into the “deal with if we get to it” part of my brain, I pull out my only shirt that isn’t green or black. It’s deep burgundy, and looks good with my bright hair. It’ll associate me even more solidly with the color red, and I like that. It’s the color of my Rage, the color my sail turns when I power the ship.

I have a leather under-bust wrap that has gold buttons and trim that I accidentally ended up with after a silks-and-leather deal. I rarely wear it, as it’s a little flashy and draws attention, but it will work for this. Feminine, but fierce. That’s what I want to go for.

When I’m dressed, I move to my washroom. Mine is the only cabin on the Alastor that has its own washroom, inclusive of a copper bathtub. Porthole windows line the little tiled space, and I stare at the mirror between two of them. Long, wild hair, angry green eyes, and weather-worn features reflect back at me.

I could wrap a scarf around my hair? Or try to brush it?

I almost laugh at my own grimace.

There is no chance of getting a brush through it. I attempt a braid, only really managing to get the bottom half of it plaited, and tie it off with a small black bootlace.

I line my eyes with kohl, the only cosmetic I ever keep around, and rub some wax on my lips.

“Well, that’s the best they’re going to get,” I say to my reflection.

“You look nice, captain,” Lucas says to me when I meet the others on deck.

“Oh. Thanks. So do you.” I eye him. He’s done a decent job of repurposing Epizon’s trousers, and my shirts. He’ll need a coat at some point, and my heart sinks when I see that he’s still barefoot.

He’s clean, though, all the smears and smudges gone, and the marks on his wrist less red. It’ll take a while to get color into his skin, after so long below decks, but there’s a tinge to his cheeks.

“What about me?”

We all look down at Len. “You’re naked. As usual.”

“Well, having fur instead of clothes doesn’t mean I shouldn’t get compliments.”

“Len, you look magnificent this evening,” says Epizon formally.

Lucas grins, and a small smile sneaks onto my lips.

“As do you, good sir,” Len replies.

Epizon is wearing all black, his eyes lined with kohl too. He looks fierce as fuck.

The longboat to take us to the platform bumps against the railings and we all look over at it.

“Here we go again.”

The area between the two temples looks different when we are deposited back on the platform. It is now lined with long tables of all different sizes and heights, benches running down both sides. The tables are all heaving with food and drink. Ornate bowls of fruit, giant platters of meat, baskets of bread, hundreds of small dishes holding olives and pastes and dips, and jug after jug of different-colored liquids. I don’t even recognize half the food, and the smell is divine.

At intervals between the tables are tall stone columns that match the temples, and on top of each is a large, flickering flame. Nothing is holding the flames in place; they just burn gently and impressively on top of the columns.

The temple with the blue curtains now has a band set up on the stone stage, surrounded by more magical flames. A beautiful blonde woman in a silken white toga plays an enormous golden harp, and three men sit behind her, playing a variety of stringed instruments that glitter with gold. The music is soft and pretty.

There are lots of other guests already here, chattering excitedly as they leave the boats and see the food.

“Where shall we sit, cap?” Len’s eyes are fixed on the plates of food. So are Lucas’s and Epizon’s, I notice.

I scan the tables and spot what I’m looking for.

Hercules.

He’s sitting in the center of the platform, positioned so that he can see everyone. He looks straight back at me.

Fire surges across my skin, and I swallow down the Rage. I point at a table close to the red temple. It’s the furthest from him, but we will have to walk past him to reach it. Epizon lays a hand on my shoulder, and I look up into his face.

“It’s fine, Ep. I’m fine,” I lie, and head toward the table.

I’m better than I was before. But fine is a stretch.

The closer I get to him, the more the Rage floods my body. My muscles begin to shake as I fight to contain the furious energy.

Shit, I need to fly. I need to get this out of my system.

I force myself to hold Hercules’s gaze as I approach. I fill my face with as much hatred as I possibly can, trying to give the anger an outlet.

His handsome eyes crinkle at the corners as he smiles.

“Daughter,” he says as I pass in front of him, and he lifts his wine glass.

I freeze, my stomach lurching at the word.

“Don’t you dare call me daughter, you fucking monster,” I hiss, turning to face him.

Fifteen years. It has been fifteen years since I have seen him in the flesh. And last time I was this close to him, he was covered in my mother’s blood.

I feel sick, and my ears are ringing.

I could reach out now, and stab a blade into his neck. Sever the artery. Finish it.

The fantasy plays in my head, until he stands.

He towers over me, and it’s not just his physical size that makes me feel like I’m shrinking. He’s similarly built to Epizon, so I’m used to that.

It’s the power. Magic, divine, godly strength. It oozes from him, rolls off him in waves.

He gives a bark of laughter. “I’m glad to see you have some fight in you. You must have inherited some of my qualities.” He takes a long drink from his glass.

As he lowers it, I draw my head back and spit in his face. He roars, stepping backward and causing the bench to clatter to the marble floor.

“Fuck you, Hercules,” I growl.

The fury contorting his attractive face is hugely satisfying, and I gave my own bark of laughter before I whirl on my heel and stride away.

Chapter 13

Hercules

As the red-haired girl gets farther from me, I calm my anger.

Let her run away. I won’t stoop to her level in front of all these staring people. They all know I’m unbeatable. I have no need to prove it here. That can be saved for the Trials.

“Pick that bench up,” I bark at a doulos. A small boy hurries to pick the bench up, and another offers me a piece of cloth. I wipe the girl’s spit from my face and sit down.

“She’s pathetic,” purrs the girl to my left. I put my hand on her bare leg and feel her tense in anticipation.

“So was her mother,” I reply, a hard smile on my face at the memory. My daughter looks a lot like her mother.

I wonder if she really has inherited any power from me. It seems unlikely, given that shoddy ship she captains. I force myself to relax. This child is no threat to me or my ends. The reluctant admiration I feel for her fierceness is just going to make it more satisfying when I make sure she doesn’t survive the Trials.

“Evadne, fetch me more of this wine. These are empty.”

The girl pouts. “There are doulos for—”

I cut her off by squeezing her leg hard. She stops talking but doesn’t make any noise of pain.

“Go,” I say, and release her thigh.

She leaps up. I watch her lithe figure move as she sashays toward the closest doulos, her shiny blue hair skimming her bare shoulders. It was hard to find a gunner as young and pretty as she is.

I can get any girl I want when we dock, but I need someone on board the Hybris I can play with at my leisure, and there’s no way I’m letting more members of crew than are necessary on my ship. Not when they will all be granted immortality when I win.

The more immortals there are in Olympus, the less special they will be. And I will have to suffer them forever.

There’s a buzz of noise from the other end of my table, and I look over. Theseus. He walks up the aisle between the tables and comes to a stop opposite me.

“Hercules,” he says with a nod.

I stand up, because I know I’m the tallest of the two of us. “Theseus.” I nod back. I do not smile.

Theseus thinks he’s better than me. He’s younger and thinks himself more popular. My eyes flick to the woman standing behind him, and my breath catches involuntarily. My hatred for Theseus deepens further as I recognize her as Hedone, the demigoddess of pleasure.

“Allow me to introduce my crew.” Theseus grins, having obviously noticed my reaction. “This is Hedone, my medic.”

Hedone is wearing a draping silk toga, as many of the women here are, but somehow hers hangs in a way that is much more suggestive than the others I have seen. Her long black hair frames a face that holds eyes darker than the Void itself, and voluptuous lips that, once I have looked at, I cannot take my eyes off.

I have to have her. The realization hits like a lightning bolt.

If I’m going to be immortal, it will be with a woman like this at my side.

I smile at her, relaxing my shoulders and allowing an easy charm to take my face. I reach my arm across the table to her, and she returns my smile as she puts her hand in mine.

“A pleasure,” I say, deepening my tone.

She narrows her eyes seductively, and my stomach tightens.

“And my first mate and gunner are over there,” Theseus says, gesturing to two people who have been talking to some seated guests on the next table.

I blink at them, not caring in the slightest who they are. The woman is dark-skinned, with braided hair, like Theseus, and is wearing a gold dress. The man is young and soft, with pale hair and pretty features.

I know that Hedone doesn’t want these young, pretty male clones. She wants a real man. Someone who looks like me, with muscles obvious through my clothes, dark hair, and a beard deliberately shot through with gray in a way that makes me look experienced and distinguished.

“And who are your crew?” Hedone asks. Her voice makes my cock twitch. It is as sensual as she is.

“This is Asterion, my first mate,” I say. There’s a loud scraping as the whole bench moves backward and Asterion stands. A few people in the vicinity quieten as they look over. Theseus doesn’t flinch, though, as the Minotaur to my right nods gruffly at them.

Asterion isn’t as tall as the giants, only about eight feet in height, but his bulk matches even mine. His massive torso and thighs are that of a human, but his head and his lower legs come from a bull. He is covered in short black fur and has black hooves at the bottom of his animal lower legs. Mighty horns curl out of his sturdy black skull, and red eyes glint above his bearded snout.

“Ah, and here is Evadne, my gunner,” I say as Evadne returns, followed by a doulos carrying a large decanter of wine. She blushes as Theseus bows to her, and I make a mental note to address that later. It will not do to have a member of my own crew infatuated with Theseus.

“Well,” Theseus says with a wink at Evadne, “we’re having a bit of a celebration on the Virtus later. Feel free to join us.”

They carry on up the table, Hedone throwing a lingering look back at me over her shoulder. Asterion and I sit down.

“I assume we will not be visiting the Virtus tonight, captain,” says the Minotaur. His deep voice is so low it doesn’t carry at all.

Part of me is tempted, especially with the look the girl just gave me. But as much as I want Hedone, there is one thing I want more.

“Of course not. When the first Trial is announced tomorrow, we will be ready to go. Speaking of which… Evadne, I have a job for you.”

Annoyance flickers across her face, but she quickly replaces it with compliance. “Yes, captain?”

“I want you to go and tell one of the giant crew that we have inside information about the first event tomorrow. They have too much attention and support. I want to crush their morale before they even get started. Do you think you can make them believe that the first Trial is going to be on Leo?” I ask her, before taking a drink of wine.

“Of course I can,” she says, helping herself to a handful of plump olives. “But how do you know the first event won’t actually be on Leo? They’ll have a massive head start if it is.”

“The odds are in my favor, girl. One in twelve that the true location is Leo. Eleven in twelve that we send the idiots in the wrong direction and gain a significant lead.” I wave for her to refill my glass. “And besides, even if they do get lucky and end up in the right place, I will still beat them.”

Chapter 14

Evadne

It isn’t hard to spot the crew of giants. They’re surrounded by other creatures who live on Poseidon’s and Hephaestus’s water worlds.

Personally, I find the Telkhines the most unpleasant. They look like dogs, except that they have flippers for front legs and squelchy, finned fish tails at their back end. They’re supposed to be incredible metal workers, but I can’t see how when they’re shaped like that.

The giants’ ship is called the Orion, and there are five of them on the crew. I’ve known Captain Antaeus by sight since the ceremony earlier today, and I know that he’s one of three full giants. The other two are half giants.

The groaning table I’m approaching seats giants of all sizes, as well as two Cyclopes. I decide to go for one of the males at the edge of the group, to draw less attention to myself. Fixing a broad smile on my face, I sit down next to a striking-looking half giant who is examining a leg of meat closely.

“Hi,” I say.

The large male starts and drops the piece of meat. It thuds onto a shining metal plate.

He looks down at me, and I’m surprised by the handsomeness of his face. He has electric-blue eyes and thick, dark hair pulled back into a knot at the nape of his neck. Like those of the others around him, his face bears the marks of the life of a fighter. An erratic orange scar runs from his full bottom lip all the way down to his chin, standing out against his pale skin. Also like his fellow giants, he’s wearing green cargo trousers, but he’s the only one with his chest covered—a fitted black shirt, open at the top. He frowns at me, and I decide that I can’t tell how old he is.

“Why are you over here?” he asks me bluntly, and reaches for a huge tankard. The mug is almost the size of my head.

“It’s boring over there,” I say, tilting my head toward the middle of the platform, where Hercules is sitting. “And that’s not a very polite way of saying hello.” I pout.

He takes a long drink and then puts the mug back down on the table hard enough to make me jump. I wait for him to respond, but he just picks up the bone with the meat on it again.

“I’m Evadne,” I try. “I’m the gunner on the Hybris.”

He stops midway through tearing the meat off the joint with his teeth and looks down at me again. “You’re on Hercules’s crew?”

“Yes.”

He snorts and throws the bone back onto a big platter in the center of the table. “Then you definitely shouldn’t be over here. Leave before Bergion or Albion see you.”

“Who are they?” I ask, as innocently as I can. It’s hard not to feel intimidated when everyone around me is so much bigger than I am. A roar of laughter comes from the center of the group, and a number of equally huge mugs are clanked down on the table. I suppress a flinch. “And who are you?” I add, trying to smile convincingly.

“I’m Eryx, and Bergion and Albion are the twins over there.” He leans back so that I can see, and points to the end of the table. Two dark-skinned, shirtless giants are mid-arm wrestle. They both look to be a similar height to Captain Antaeus, but one of them is much bulkier. They both have shiny bald heads, and the more slender one has a long black-and-gray beard. I can’t see their eyes, as they’re both squinting and straining as they try to push the other’s arm to the table, but I’m willing to bet they’re bright blue like those of the other sons of Poseidon.

I try not to swallow visibly. “It’s a party, and I can sit where I like,” I say, straightening my back.

Eryx raises his eyebrows and then laughs. “You won’t last long in the Trials,” he mutters. “Are you even old enough to take part?”

I only just stop myself narrowing my eyes in time. It’s a game, Evadne. This is exactly what you want him to think of you. Young, vacuous, and a little stupid.

“Of course I am.” I need to be certain he’s on the crew of the Orion before I drop the bait. The color of his eyes suggests he is, but I have to be sure. “What do you do on the ship?” I say.

“Gunner,” he grunts back.

Bingo. It’s time to turn on my best acting skills.

I sigh loudly. “This feast is so boring. I was hoping Captain Hercules was going to let us go to Theseus’s party on board the Virtus, but he says we have to prepare for tomorrow.” I make my voice whiny and petulant. “Are you going to the party?”

He snorts again and throws me a sideways scowl. “Do I look like someone who goes to parties on pleasure ships?”

I flutter my eyelashes and inch closer to him. His big hands clench into fists.

“Sure you do,” I say. “I could go with you.”

He turns on the bench so he can see me better. “Why are you talking to me?”

Shit. I’ve overdone it, and now he’s suspicious. “I just thought you looked bored too, and you might be up for a little adventure.” I smile up at him.

His hands relax a little as he laughs again. “A little adventure?” he says incredulously. “Do you have any idea what we’re starting tomorrow?”

“Exactly!” I say. “I don’t understand why we can’t have some fun tonight!” I scowl this time and fold my arms. “I mean, it’s not like Leo is far away, and we’ve prepped the ship every way we can. What else are we supposed to do tonight?”

He’s staring at me, and I look innocently back at him. My heart’s racing, but I make sure my face gives nothing away.

“What? I think I’d enjoy spending the evening with someone like you,” I say coyly, unfolding my arms and leaning toward him. “I’ve always wondered about the… proportions of giants.” I glance pointedly down at his lap.

He opens his mouth but says nothing. His cheeks have darkened. Shit, have I distracted him too much from what I just “let slip”?

He definitely noticed that I said Leo, I’m sure.

Eventually, he speaks. “Your captain is right. You should go back to your ship and prepare yourself for tomorrow. That’s what I’ll be doing. You should leave this table. Now.”

I let out another big, petulant sigh, relief secretly rolling through me. “Fine. I’ll know next time not to bother coming to giants for fun.”

I stand up and perform my best flounce up the long table and back toward the other guests.

“You’ve done well,” Hercules says as I rejoin him after mingling convincingly for a while. He raises his glass of wine. “Ten minutes after you left him, he went to talk to his captain, and now the whole crew are leaving.”

I pick up my own drink and take a gulp.

Now I just have to pray that the first task isn’t on Leo, or Hercules won’t be happy.

Dealing with Hercules’s temper is worth it for the most part. Since taking a place on the crew of the Hybris, I’ve lived in luxury. I want for nothing, and Hercules is the greatest lover I could ever hope for. He’s famous, and he has chosen me to be the only woman on his crew.

And, most importantly, I have a very real shot at immortality.

A shiver works its way through my body, and I try not to think about it, for fear of overexcitement. I need to be able to concentrate.

It’s most likely that the first event will be in one of the eleven other realms, and I won’t have to deal with his wrath at all, but if I do, I just need to remember why I’m here.

I have a chance at fame, fortune, and the incredibly rare prize of infinite life. What wouldn’t I do for that?

As he passed through Pholoe, Hercules was entertained by the centaur Pholus. He roasted meat for Hercules to eat whilst he ate his own meat raw. Hercules called for wine, but Pholus only had sacred wine that belonged to the centaurs. Hercules told him to be brave and not to worry and opened the wine. The centaurs smelled the wine and came to the cave, armed with rocks and trees. Hercules killed all who fought against him, and the rest he shot with arrows as he chased them.

EXCERPT FROM

The Library by Apollodorus Written 300–100 B.C.

Paraphrased by Eliza Raine

Chapter 15

Lyssa

Epizon stares at Len, then gives me a sideways look. “Do we need to worry about him?”

I understand his concern. I hadn’t realized quite how enthralled anyone could become with one woman, even the randy little satyr.

Hedone, from the crew of the Virtus, has collected a gaggle of admirers as the evening has worn on. Apparently she’s the demigoddess of pleasure, and it looks to me like she has quite a lot of power.

Len’s short stature has helped him to push between the legs of a lot of the other adoring creatures, both male and female, so that he can sit at her feet. I can just see him through the group, gazing up at Hedone with his mouth hanging open slightly as she regales her admirers with a story about a party in her home realm of Pisces.

I can’t hear well enough to know whether the story is actually funny or whether everyone is just laughing uproariously because they’ve drunk so much fine wine. Perhaps it’s because such a beautiful storyteller is telling the jokes. Lucas couldn’t push through the crowd, so he’s standing behind the group, craning his head to see around people.

“I’m sure he’s fine. Let’s just make sure we don’t leave without him.”

“Speaking of which, before we head back to the Alastor, I want one last chance to speak to the centaur emissaries.” His eyes light up, and I give him a smile. Centaurs are insular, unfriendly people, and Epizon has spent all night trying unsuccessfully to engage one of them in conversation. “Go. Good luck. We’ll leave when you return.”

Epizon is barely gone a few minutes before another large form takes his place.

Shit, the peacock smells great. I’m instantly annoyed.

“Why are you here?”

He beams at me and reaches across the table for a wine glass and the jug. “And a good evening to you too, mighty hero of Olympus.”

I roll my eyes. “Go away.”

He pours himself a drink, then pulls my empty glass over and refills it. “You did say you were special. I should have taken you seriously.”

“I did not say I was special.”

“That’s how I remember it.”

“Yeah? Well, folk in this world are real good at remembering shit wrong,” I snap.

I swipe up my glass, and he holds his out to me in a cheers motion. “To Captain Lyssa of the Alastor. I hope you do well.”

I take a glug of wine. “Why? And why do you keep watching me?”

“You’re interesting.”

“That,” I say, jerking a thumb over at Hedone and her crowd, “is what an interesting woman looks like. Not this.”

His bright gaze bores into mine, and I find myself trying to work out how he can get laughter into his actual eyeballs. How is that even possible?

“Hedone isn’t real. But you are. As real as they come. You genuinely don’t want fame, do you?”

My face screws up involuntarily, and I half slam my glass back down onto the table. “Fame? After they made my father famous for murdering my family?” I hiss the words through clenched teeth.

“Not every famous person in Olympus is a murderer, you know.”

“Very few of them are famous for doing anything good.” I fold my arms.

He opens his mouth to argue, then shrugs lightly. “There are fewer than I’d like for the purposes of this argument, I grant you. But there are some.” He turns a little on the bench seat. “Ah. See her?”

I roll my eyes again. “I’m not interested.”

“Don’t want to be proven wrong, special girl?”

I sigh and turn. “Fine. See who?”

“Her, in the purple toga.”

“What about her?”

“She’s famous, and well loved, because she created a cure for infections.”

“Is she magical?” I study the woman, interested despite my effort not to be. She’s young, pretty, and looks happy.

“Yes. A daughter of Hermes, with alchemical magic.”

“So she’s wealthy?”

“Yes. And she uses all her time and resources to help people who suffer.”

“Huh. Fine, you pointed out one person who’s not an asshole. What about the rest of the folk here who are?”

He shrugs again. “The gods created and rule this world, and we all have to work with what we’ve got. And what you’ve got, Captain Lyssa, is a chance to become immortal.”

Suspicion coils through me at the interest flashing in his face. “Is that why you’re talking to me?”

“What will you do, if you win it?”

I shake my head. “I can’t think of anything worse than an endless life,” I mutter, swiping up my glass again.

He takes a long, slow sip from his. “Then why did you enter?”

I don’t answer him, and his smile spreads.

“Ah. Silly me. To stop Hercules.”

I sip my wine and refuse to look at him.

“For what it’s worth, I think you’re very noble. The man is a colossal prick.”

I jerk my head around in surprise. “You… you think so?”

“Of course I do. But hey, do me a favor and don’t tell anyone else.”

He grins, and anger swirls inside me. “Two-faced, sycophantic bastard.”

He cocks his head. “Can’t argue with that. As I said, we all have to work with what we’ve got. And what I’ve got is charm.” He beams at me, and I only just stop myself from punching him in his stupidly perfect nose.

I stand up instead, draining my glass. “What you’ve got is an unjustifiably massive ego, and a shortage of shirts.”

I move to the crowd around Hedone, refusing to look back, even though I can feel him watching me. I tap Lucas on the shoulder. “Come on. It’s time we left.”

“But Hedone says they’re carrying on the party back on their Typhoon!” He gazes at me pleadingly.

“And you think we’re going?” I raise my eyebrows. “Not a chance.”

“Captain, you heard what Zeus said—we might die tomorrow! How can I die knowing I missed a chance to see Theseus’s Typhoon?”

“No, Lucas. We’re going back to the Alastor.” He looks so genuinely heartbroken that I find myself adding, “But if we survive, I’ll try to find another way for you to see it.”

Why the Fates did I just say that?

His devasted expression softens. “You will?”

“I’ll try.”

He smiles. “Thanks, captain.”

I’m about to send a mental message to Len when a loud crash snaps my attention to the middle of the platform.

Hercules is standing, the bench he was sitting on overturned and a large platter of fruit scattered across the table. In one hand, he’s holding a jug and waving it, laughing. Opposite him, on the other side of the table, are three centaurs.

“Your wine?” booms Hercules, and the remaining guests all fall quiet. Even the band stops playing, their attention fully on the massive man in the black shirt. “I think you’ll find it’s my wine now!” He waves the jug at them again and takes a glass from the table.

The centaur in the middle takes a step forward. His muscular human chest rises out of the body of a sleek black stallion. He’s taller than Hercules, at least seven feet from head to hoof. His voice is soft when he speaks, but it carries across the silent platform.

“That wine has been brought from Sagittarius. It is all we centaurs may drink, and only centaurs may drink it. I ask you again not to insult our people by indulging in something so personal to us.”

Hercules stops pouring wine from the jug into his glass and looks at the centaur.

Slowly, he begins to tip the contents of the glass onto the marble platform at his feet.

The two centaurs behind the black male stamp their hooves, their tails flicking.

“I find it insulting that you will not share it with me,” hisses Hercules, and puts the jug to his mouth. As he begins to tip the jug back to drink the wine, there’s a roar, and the pale brown-and-cream centaur leaps over the table.

Hercules catches the creature around his human waist before his back legs have landed, and flings him backward into the table. There’s an almighty crash as the force collapses it, and the other two centaurs spring forward.

The group I’m standing with is suddenly animated, some scrambling to get out of the way and back to the longboats, and some trying to get a better look at the action. I duck under the table in front of me and stand up on the other side, unable to take my eyes from the fight.

The first centaur is lying in the wreckage of the table, unmoving. The other two are either side of Hercules, the black centaur facing away from him as he tries to land kicks from his stronger back legs on his opponent’s body.

Hercules’s eyes are alive, a maniacal smile on his face as he swings at the horse-people, ducking their flying hooves. The jug lies broken on the platform, red liquid spilling slowly across the white marble.

There’s another roar, and it’s impossible to tell whether it comes from Hercules, or the black centaur that he has managed to grab by the back leg. Hercules pulls hard, and the powerful front legs of the centaur give out. His torso crashes to the floor as he’s dragged backward. Hercules begins to swing the creature up into the air and then carries on in an arc, around and around, like the centaur is a toy.

My stomach lurches as I realize what he’s going to do.

Hercules lets go as he comes to face the edge of the platform.

The centaur’s arms and legs scrabble as he seems to hover in the air for a moment, and then he’s falling. I see people on the other side of the platform rush to the edge and look over.

I have no desire to see. My body is numb, my muscles not responding to commands, my vision narrowed to only him.

Hercules turns to face the last centaur standing. In contrast to his easy, solid stance, the horse-man is shaking. I don’t know if it’s through fear or anger. To hear about Hercules’s superhuman strength is one thing, but to see it in action…

I can see sweat rolling down the snow-white flanks of the centaur, his hooves clicking frantically as the pair face each other. At that moment, I want nothing more than this magnificent creature to back down, to disgrace himself but to retain his life.

There’s no way he can best Hercules.

With another roar, the white horse-man rears up on his back legs and tries to bring his front hooves crashing down onto Hercules.

He’s too fast, though. Ducking under the centaur’s huge body, he takes hold of a front and back leg. He pulls hard as he stands up and the creature is flipped, his human chest and head hitting the marble hard. There’s a sickening snap and a scream of pain. Hercules laughs as he takes another leg in both hands and twists. The centaur’s screams get louder, and the paralyzing fear inside me breaks.

I have to stop this. Someone has to stop this.

Memories of that horrific night assault me as I try to step forward. My vision swims.

He’s too powerful. He’s too strong.

He’s literally able to rip a creature apart with his bare hands. What in the name of all the gods in Olympus can I do to stop him?

I have to try, though. Don’t I?

Why is nobody else doing anything?

I force my head around, looking for the giants, for Theseus, for anyone strong enough, or powerful enough, to help me.

But there’s hardly anybody left. The guests have filled the longboats, the tortuous screams of the centaur playing to nobody. Even the band have disappeared.

I see Lucas and Len being moved quickly into a longboat by Epizon.

“You can’t stop him, Lyssa,” Epizon says in my head.

“I have to try.”

I take another step forward as Epizon curses, but agony explodes in my center.

I’m barely able to swallow my cry of pain as I crumple to the marble. I’m on fire from the inside out. My stomach is made of liquid flame, and I can hardly breathe around the pain.

A figure appears beside me, yanks me up by the shoulders, and starts to drag me toward the longboat. I’m aware it’s Epizon, but the agony is making my vision blurry and I’m unable to stand straight.

As abruptly as it started, the pain vanishes as I reach the platform edge.

I gasp down breaths, tears streaming down my face as the Rage soars inside me, freed from its prison of pain.

“Are you all right?” It’s the peacock’s voice, and I whirl to face him.

Epizon tugs my arm. “We need to leave. Now.”

The centaur has fallen quiet, I realize. All I can hear is laughter. Hercules’s laughter.

“But what if I can end this now? Before it even starts?”

“How?” Epizon says. “How in the name of Hades do you propose to kill him now?”

He never, ever speaks to me like this in front of others, and I realize that there is true fear in his eyes as he stares at me.

Hercules just killed three powerful, innocent centaurs. And nobody stopped him.

“I—” I’m cut off before I can finish.

“You can’t kill him now.”

“Fuck off, Alexios. This has nothing to do with you,” I spit at him.

“On the contrary, it does now. That pain you just felt?”

I freeze, staring at him.

Without a hint of fear or shame, he speaks again. “I did that.”

I advance on him, yanking my arm free from Epizon’s grip. “Explain yourself,” I hiss, my teeth clamped so hard together my jaw hurts.

“Sure. But on your ship, not here.”

“Now!” I shout, and Hercules’s laughter stops abruptly.

I look over, and when his eyes lock on mine, I know that for once, I have to do as I’m told. I have to get off this platform.

Chapter 16

Lyssa

“Explain yourself this fucking second or I’m tipping you straight over the edge of this boat and into the fucking void!”

My body is shaking with anger. There’s a part of my brain that knows fear is also part of the cause, but I’m doing everything I can to crush it.

We all just watched Hercules kill three powerful creatures and laugh, while nobody lifted a finger. He is still untouchable.

Unstoppable.

But I can’t think like that, not now, not here.

So I round on Alexios instead. Epizon grips my shoulders, stopping me from shoving him. The longboat is moving quickly, Len and Lucas making themselves as small as possible at the other end.

“When we are on your ship,” Alexios says, voice level. His eyes aren’t smiling anymore, but they are still boring into mine.

We’re moments away, and I have to calm down. I wrench free of Epizon once again, and turn so neither of them can see my face.

I have to calm down.

The screams of the centaur fill the silence in my head.

My mother screamed. My brother didn’t. Thank the gods he didn’t know what was coming.

Bile sears my throat.

How can we possibly win? How can anyone possibly stop him?

I’m aware that it is precisely people thinking like that that have allowed him to get this far without retribution. Have allowed him to kill for fun, and have the gods see it as entertainment.

Athena chose me, I tell myself desperately. I’m needed. I don’t know how yet, but I will make a difference. I have to.

The longboat bumps against the railings of the Alastor and I vault over without waiting. I need my ship, need to feel the wood of the mast under my fingertips.

But I’m only a foot from it when the pain starts again.

Crippling. Utterly immobilizing.

I fold in two, gasping for breath. Fire. My insides are on fire.

Epizon drops Len on the planks and runs toward me. Alexios strides behind him, and the pain vanishes.

I’m on my feet, my hand wrapped around Alexios’s throat the second he’s close enough. I slam him against the mast, dangerous amounts of power flowing through me. My vision is tinged red, the pain gone but the fuel it has given the Rage oh so present.

“What the fuck have you done to me?”

“I poisoned you.” His voice is a croak, but I still see no fear in his face.

My grip tightens as new fear floods me. “With what?”

He doesn’t answer.

“Captain, he’s purple,” growls Epizon. He has his huge blade out, and his face is filled with fury. “I’m not sure he can answer you.”

I let go of Alexios, and he slides a foot down the mast, sucking a breath in. “He can explain,” he heaves, and with a small flash of light, a fox appears on my deck.

It’s blue and white and shimmering, but I take little notice of its appearance.

“Engys serum,” a voice says in my head. The fox moves to Alexios’s feet and sits. “You two are bound now.”

My head is spinning, confusion only increasing the Rage.

“Explain!” I aim the shout at Alexios, rather than the fox. He straightens, still leaning against the mast.

“I need to be in the Trials. You were my best shot. I told you, I work with what I’ve got.” There’s no shame or remorse in his words. They’re matter-of-fact.

“Tell me what you’ve done to me, now!”

“I put engys serum into your drink. That means we are physically bound. If you move more than twenty feet from me, you will experience agonizing pain.”

The world tilts, and disbelief numbs my thoughts. “No…” I’m not even aware I’ve said the word aloud. Denial tries to take hold.

This can’t be happening.

But the pain was real.

“No. No, I need to stop Hercules. I need to be stronger than I’ve ever been. No. I can’t be… This can’t be…”

“I will make you stronger,” he says. “I will help you stop him.”

My fist snaps out without any restraint. Blood explodes from his face as I catch him square in the nose, and he slides down the mast again.

I whirl. I need to be alone, to be anywhere that’s not with this snake, this lying sack of—

Pain.

It lances through my stomach as I move, and I gasp and stumble back. The pain vanishes.

He’s telling the truth.

I turn slowly, my hands vibrating with fury.

Epizon is glaring at him as he tries to stay upright against the mast. Blood is soaking into his coat, running down his bare chest. The fox is looking up at him, tail flicking.

“Undo it.” My voice rings across the deck.

“I can’t.” His words are barely understandable through the broken nose.

“You did it; you can undo it.”

The fox replies to me, “It’s time based. It will wear off in one month. There is no other way.”

I close my eyes. “You idiotic, vain, glory-seeking fucking fool,” I breathe. “Do you know what you’ve done? What your selfish desire for immortality will do to the rest of the world?”

I open my eyes. He’s taken off his coat and is holding it against his face. His bright eyes fix on mine.

“I’m the only one who can stop him,” I say. “And now you’ve deliberately screwed me. You’ve helped set a monster free in Olympus for eternity. When he wins, he can never die. There will be no end to his cruelty—it will be limitless.”

He doesn’t answer me. Just stares back. Shirtless, covered in blood, and not a shred of remorse in his eyes.

“Everyone, leave.”

“Captain—” Epizon starts, but I put up my hand and he stops.

“Killing him won’t break the bond,” the fox says quickly. “It will just leave you in permanent pain until it wears off in a month.”

“I’m not going to kill him. I’m going to talk to him. Alone.”

“Let me heal him first.”

The fox jumps up on its back legs and pulls something from his belt with his small snout. It glows, and then Alexios takes it and tips it into his mouth. The blood-sodden coat drops to the floor and I kick it.

“You get any blood on this deck, you fucking scrub it,” I shout. I’m so close to losing it.

He tips his head back and takes a long breath. When he looks back down at me, his nose is straight again. Blood is no longer flowing down his chest.

“You have Hercules’s strength,” he says. His voice is normal again, though his lips are crimson.

“When I’m angry, yes.”

“You can stop him.”

“If he finds out that he can completely incapacitate me by just removing, or apparently killing, you, then no. Not anymore. I can’t stop him.”

I flex my hands, then shove him hard off the mast. I lay my palms flat on the wood. I can’t fly anywhere. We don’t know where to go. I’m trapped. But I have to channel some of the Rage into the ship. I’m so angry that every part of me hurts.

I let some of the fury trickle into the wood. The sails above me glow. The tension lessens, just the tiniest bit. The desire to smash him into tiny fucking pieces lessens just a bit.

“Why? Why did you do this to me?”

“It wasn’t my plan at the start. But you were chosen. I didn’t have a choice.”

“You want immortality?”

“I want to be part of the Trials.”

It’s not an answer, but I don’t turn to him. I press my head against the mast and let a little more anger flow from me into the wood. I’m aware of the glow turning red. I breathe deeper.

“I will make your crew stronger,” he says.

“You’ve fucked up everything.”

“I’m an asset. You can use me. I’m an alchemist. Healing serums, poisons—I can make all sorts. And my fox, Bassari, was a gift from my father. He gives my potions magic, makes them even more powerful.”

“You fucking poisoned me. And now you’re expecting me to be happy about it?”

“I’m rich, too. You can’t tell me healing magic and money won’t help your crew in this competition,” he says.

My fists ball. “Both those things would be great, if they didn’t come with me being fucking poisoned!” I yell.

A bone-deep resignation is warring with the anger. Everything is out of my control. Everything. I didn’t choose a single thing that has happened to me today.

And I can’t fight it.

I grip the mast harder, and feel my ship heat under my skin.

Losing my temper won’t help. The goal hasn’t changed. Hercules must die.

I’m going to have to work out how to fit this lying fuckwit into everything now, but I’m still going to kill Hercules. He can’t take that from me. He won’t.

I twist my head, keeping contact with the wood, and look at him. I instantly have to douse the urge to hit him again. “Let me make sure I’ve got this straight. If you die, I’m fucked? Endless agony?”

“Until the poison wears off, yes. But I can take care of myself.”

“And same if I move more than twenty feet from you.”

“Yes.”

“So, genius, what do you think my opponents are going to do if they realize they can completely remove me from the competition simply by separating us?”

“We have to stop them realizing. And I have an idea about that.” He puts his hands on his hips. Blood has seeped into the waistband of his trousers now. Loathing rolls through me.

“You are an entitled, lying, greedy prick. I hate you.”

“Yes. Now, my idea is that we pretend to be in love.”

Chapter 17

Alexios

Her mouth falls open, and her ship’s sails deepen to scarlet.

I have never, in my entire life, met a woman like this. And I’ve known a few.

She’s human fire. Rage and passion and strength, in a package that looks like it could be broken so easily. Soft skin, full lips, bright eyes. There’s sadness in them. Such deep discontent.

I’m assaulted by a longing to push her. To find out how far she can, and will, go.

Then I fear I may find out before I’m ready as she pushes herself from the mast.

The red begins to drain from the sails, and magic rolls from her.

“I’m sorry? It sounded like you just suggested that we pretend to be in love. But I know you didn’t actually say that.”

I have to work not to take a step back. “Bassari, if she kills me, I’m taking you down with me.”

“She has no choice.”

“I don’t think this is a woman who responds well to having no choice.”

“Maybe I can get cleaned up, and we can talk?” I gesture at my blood-caked abdomen. Honestly, I’d have broken someone’s nose too if they poisoned me.

“No. Talk now.”

“We don’t have long until sunrise, and I need to get supplies and money from my ship.”

“Epizon!” she shouts, and the huge man appears at the other end of the deck. “Take Lucas and loot everything you can from this asshole’s ship! If it fits in a longboat, take it. Including sail fabric and spare wood. Everything. As many trips as you need.”

“Yes, captain. Erm… Which ship?”

“The Alopex,” I call, keeping my eyes on Lyssa.

“Right,” says Epizon, then disappears.

“There. Now, talk,” she says.

I’m painfully aware that the charm I depend so heavily on for getting people to do what I want didn’t work on her before. It’s definitely not going to help me now.

I’ll be damned if I won’t try, though.

I smile, blood cracking on my lips. “You don’t want people to know about your new weakness, right?”

She growls, and power emanates from her. She’s a foot shorter than me, and I don’t doubt for a second that she could take men twice my size and tear them apart.

“So you need a believable reason for keeping me around all of a sudden.”

“Money. I’ll just tell everyone I let you join the crew in return for funding us.” She says it like the words taste like more poison.

“And the fact that I’m physically right by you all the time?”

She scowls at me, stamps her foot, then looks like she regrets it when there’s a loud cracking noise. “I hate you.”

“Uh-huh. If we make out like we met tonight, were instantly attracted to each other, you invited me to join the crew, and now we’re romantically inseparable, nobody will suspect a thing.”

This time, I see her fist coming.

I’m fast enough to avoid it, but only just, and she catches my shoulder as I swerve. I stumble back, and a genuine grin takes my face.

“It’s more than hate. I loathe you. You physically disgust me.”

“Well, you’re going to have to pretend otherwise in public. And the whole competition is being broadcast.”

Her furious gaze deepens. “How in the name of Hades do you propose we pull off a lethal competition when we’re bound like this? Did you think this through at all? You are going to be the reason we both die, and Hercules lives forever. You are the most selfish, arrogant, greedy—”

I cut her off. “We’ll be fine.”

I’m aware that we probably won’t. This was absolutely not my first choice of ways into the Trials. But right now, I’m not regretting that I’m going to have to spend a lot of time with her. She’d break more than my nose if I told her that, and I’m suddenly tempted to.

“I hope you rot in Tartarus.”

“You’ll change your mind.”

Her furious look turns into one of disbelief. “You actually believe that? That you could possibly do anything that would make me hate you less?”

“Lyssa, I will help you stop him. I swear.”

She glares into my eyes. “It’s Captain Lyssa,” she hisses eventually.

Chapter 18

Lyssa

“You can come in, if you like,” Alexios calls from my washroom.

I put my head in my hands. “I’d rather spoon out my own eyeballs with a soup ladle,” I mutter.

Fatigue is rolling over me in waves. The Rage has ebbed, the resignation now fully in charge. There is absolutely nothing I can do about today. And tomorrow, the Trials begin.

I have to sleep. Fighters need rest to be at full strength, and now I apparently need to be a fucking actress too.

I’m exhausted. Physically and emotionally drained. Hercules would end me in a heartbeat right now.

“You know, it was actually my idea for you to pretend to be a couple.” The fox’s voice sounds smug in my head, and I look at him. He’s a mix of white and blue, with big, dark eyes and a really fluffy tail. Bits of his fur shimmer when he moves.

“What are you?” I ask him.

“Hungry,” he answers.

“Huh. And what species are you?”

The fox cocks his head. “I’m a fox.” He says it like I’m stupid, and I heave a sigh.

“A magical, telepathic fox.”

“That has great ideas.”

I narrow my eyes. “And no sense of who they’re speaking to. If he dies, do you die? Are you part of him?”

“Yes.”

“So was everything your idea? Do you want to be immortal too?”

His tail swishes. “We need to be in the Trials. This was the only way, in the end.”

“You tried other ways?”

“Yes.”

Why the Fates didn’t those work? Why did I get lumbered with this infernal fucking prick?

“Much better,” I hear Alexios say, then feel my face heat as he strides into the cabin.

He’s wearing nothing, and I spin on the end of my bunk to face the wall. I’m too slow to avoid seeing his ass, though.

“What the hell is your aversion to clothing?”

“It’s all covered in blood,” he says.

“Epizon!” I mentally call.

“Are you all right?” his worried voice answers immediately.

“Bring Alexios’s clothes to my cabin.”

“Yes, captain. If he even lays a finger on you—”

“I appreciate that, but you know I’d break every single one of them before he got close. Anyway, he’s all show. I don’t think he’s going to physically hurt me.”

“Captain, he’s poisoned you. Caused you agony.” Epizon is furious—I can hear it.

I glance around. Alexios is staring out of a porthole. His back is corded with muscle, and I honestly didn’t know men’s asses could look like that.

“He’s a peacock,” I tell Epizon. “A show-off. A glory hunter. Nothing more. We’ll use what he has, spend all his money, and try to stay alive. The goal remains. Stop Hercules.”

“Yes, captain. I’ll be right there.”

“I like this ship.”

I blink at Alexios’s unexpected statement. He’s running his fingers around the brass porthole.

“It’s been a while since I’ve been on a Crosswind. This one has character.”

“Are you trying to suck up to me?”

He turns his head, and his grin makes me instantly angry. “I don’t think flattery will get me far with you.”

“I suppose it’s currency for you? You’re all the same.”

“Who?”

“Nobles. Aristocracy. You all pay to evade the rules, take what you want, shit on everyone else.”

“Perhaps. Or perhaps every single person is different, and deserves to judged as such.”

I realize I have no good answer for that, but mercifully, there’s a knock on the door.

Epizon hands me a large pile of heavy clothes, and I turn and dump it on the bunk. “Get dressed.” I turn back to Epizon. “Have you got everything?”

“Yes. He didn’t have a longboat on board, though, so we still don’t have a working one.”

“Shit.”

“Did you find the stash of drachma in my chamber chest?” Alexios calls.

“Yes,” Epizon growls back.

“Good, good.”

I speak to Epizon mentally. “I need to sleep a couple hours before tomorrow. Can you and Len take shifts to watch the flame dish for news of the Trial until I wake up?”

“Who will watch him while you sleep?”

“He’s not going to hurt me.”

“You don’t know that.”

“He’s bound himself to me, Ep. He did this to be in the Trials—he didn’t go to all this trouble to kill me.”

Epizon looks over my shoulder, and his gaze darkens. “I’d like to break his nose myself.”

I shrug. “He can heal magically. If you get the chance, I say go for it.”

Epizon gives me a dry smile, but it fades quickly. “We need a plan, Lyssa. Hercules is…” He drops my gaze as he casts about for the right words.

“As strong as the rumors say he is?” I offer.

He looks at me. “And as cruel as you have always said.”

“Athena chose us for a reason. An opportunity will present itself. First, I have to learn to live with my new fucking roommate, then we have to survive tomorrow.”

“And after that?”

“After that, we work out how to kill Hercules.”

“It’s a solid plan.” This time his smile is a little warmer. “I’ll wake you if there’s any news,” he says. “And call if you need me.”

“I will.”

I learned long ago that sleep is a warrior’s asset, and also that I am an exceptional case.

I sleep through anything, for as long as my body needs to. It is blessed relief. No dreams, no fear, no anger. Just physical recharging. When I discovered it wasn’t like that for everybody, I assumed it was part of my Rage magic. Which means it’s probably the same for Hercules.

Alexios, now dressed in a shirt for the first time since I met him, watches me as I lie down on top of the covers. “Stop me sleeping, and I’ll find something worse to do than kill you,” I say as I close my eyes.

“Do you have something I can read?” I open my eyes and he shrugs, like a child. “I’m not tired.”

I long to tell him to fuck off, but he can’t leave. A slice of something that might be fear or anger at never being alone, of being trapped with this man constantly, threatens my calm.

One month. And we’ll probably die before then anyway. If we don’t, I’ll kill him myself.

I reach out mentally. “Len?”

“Yes, cap.”

“Please bring something for this asshole to read.”

“Like what?”

“A cookbook, please, Len.”

I close my eyes, and sleep is instant.

Chapter 19

Eryx

I’m tense as I watch the orange flames flicker.

This is how all of Olympus communicates. Flame dishes—wide, shallow iron bowls that gods can broadcast images through. The wealthy can send messages through them, via expensive powders. I’ve never been close to that kind of life.

We’ve got a standard flame dish on the Orion. It’s raised on a sturdy wooden post next to the navigation wheel on the stern quarterdeck, and I’m sick of staring at it.

Come on. Reveal the first Trial.

Please.

They’ve made us wait all night.

After that idiot girl let slip that Hercules has inside information and that the first Trial will be on Leo, we acted quickly. We’re well on our way to Zeus’s sky realm. The only ship still showing any sign of life when we left the Void was the Virtus, and that likely continued all night.

I screw my face up in distaste. I can’t understand how people could enjoy a party after the gruesome scene Hercules caused.

If I hadn’t been fed up with the others arguing, I wouldn’t have gone back to the platform for one last ale and witnessed the brutal display of Hercules’s strength.

I wish I hadn’t. Not because it makes me fear the strongman, which I’m certain was Hercules’s intention—after all, who the fuck kills three centaurs over some wine?—but because unnecessary death is awful to watch. Unnecessary torture is even worse.

My feelings toward the pretentious airhead who sat with me last night sour further. Anyone on that crew is of no interest to me.

I won’t pretend I’m not grateful for her slip-up, though. With a crew of three full giants, and two half giants, we have no choice but to travel in a Zephyr, and the greatest will in the world won’t make this huge ship fast enough to compete with the others in speed. A head start could make all the difference.

I run my hand through my black hair apprehensively. A thud behind me tells me Captain Antaeus has arrived on the quarterdeck.

“Anything?” he asks gruffly.

I shake my head without turning around, my eyes glued to the flames.

Slowly, the rest of the crew arrives on the deck. Busiris is first. His skin is the color of gold, and he has thick black liner around his onyx eyes. He’s a half giant, like me, but the similarities stop there.

Busiris is the only son of Poseidon on the ship without the bright blue eyes. He’s also the only member who hasn’t made his living as a fighter. He’s a ruler of a small settlement on Aries called Egypt. He was more than happy to leave his people under the charge of his deputy for a place on the crew of Poseidon’s sons, in return for funding the ship.

He bought the Orion, kitted it out to accommodate giants, and used everything else he was willing to part with to attempt weapon improvements. I think we would have been better off spending money on supplies, as we have no idea where we will have to go or when, but nobody on board listens to me.

Albion and Bergion stumble up not long after Busiris, having clearly just woken. Bergion pulls at his beard as he yawns, and Albion tries to squish his huge body past his brother to get nearer to the flame dish.

“Have we heard anything yet?” he asks, excitement tinging his groggy voice.

Right on cue, the flames jump to life, flashing white. They flicker for a second, then die down. A blond man in a deep blue toga appears.

“Good day, Olympians!” he says, beaming. “Are you all ready to find out what the first Trial is?” He waits for an exaggerated moment, and I clench my fists. Trust the gods to turn this whole thing into cringeworthy entertainment. “Without further delay, let it be revealed! Here’s the god hosting the first Trial.” His eyes are gleaming and his excitement is infectious, even through the flame message.

Please be Zeus, please be Zeus, please be Zeus.

The image fades for a moment, and Captain Antaeus growls with impatience.

My stomach flips as Hera’s striking figure materializes.

Hera’s realm is Cancer. Which is the opposite side of the Void from Leo.

We’re hours away, in the wrong direction.

“Good day, heroes of Olympus,” Hera says, her voice deep and clear and calm. She’s standing in front of a huge, glittering lake with pale stone buildings lining the banks. “The first of your many deadly, near-impossible Trials will be to slaughter a longstanding threat to my peaceful realm. There is a lion stalking my citizens.” She spreads her arms, gesturing at the settlements behind her as she speaks. She’s wearing a traditional, conservative toga with a vivid turquoise sash over the shoulder that shines next to her dark skin. “It eats living creatures and is a source of constant terror. The death toll stands at fifty-two as we speak. This monster has skin that is impervious to all weapons, and as such, it has so far evaded the attempts of the citizens of Cancer to kill it. Whichever crew kills the beast wins the task. Good luck.”

The image vanishes and the flames flicker red and orange again.

A long silence rings across the deck of the Orion, broken by the booming roar of a furious giant.

Chapter 20

Hedone

Iroll onto my back, letting out a long breath. The plush silk sheets tangle around my legs as I turn. They’re damp with the sweat of the couple who have just left my chambers.

I stare at the wood paneling on the ceiling as the emptiness claws its way through me, just as I knew it would. It starts in the center on my stomach and spirals out, turning and twisting like the sheets, until it has reached every part of my body.

An hour ago, it was pleasure pouring through me, filling me, flowing from my body into my companions. Their moans of ecstasy, their cries of passion… They get to keep those.

I have them replaced with this insufferable emptiness.

It’s the paradox of my magic, of being the demigoddess of pleasure.

Every night I spend in the company of another deepens the isolation afterward, but my power compels me to share myself and to be with others. I can’t deny it.

I sigh again and sit up in the huge bed, tracing a finger along the seam of a silk pillow.

Theseus was so proud when he unveiled the ship, excitement buzzing through him as he showed me and my fellow crew members the huge, shimmering sails and big, spindly navigation wheel. His eyes shone as he presented me with the luxurious living quarters I now lounge in. White silk drapes over rich mahogany everywhere I look, soft cushions in jewel tones scattered across fine upholstery. Crystal bottles of perfume and oils line the vanity, their contents casting rainbow prisms across the walls. A silver basin filled with rose-scented water sits beside the bed, petals floating on its surface.

And while it is all beautiful, fit for a demigoddess of pleasure, and a testament to Theseus’s wealth, something is missing.

Him.

I watched him at the party tonight, my desperation growing to a point I was almost unable to tolerate.

I used to love parties. And this ship, the Virtus, is made for parties.

Tonight the deck looked resplendent, tables filled with roasted meats garnished with herbs from distant realms, exotic fruits arranged in spiraling patterns, and pastries dusted with gold. Crystal decanters held wines that shimmered with unnatural colors, and revelers looked divine in their flowing togas and glorious disregard for propriety.

All I was interested in, though, was him. Theseus.

I tried dancing with the others, but it felt pointless. Men and women alike approached me throughout the evening, drawn to my magic like moths to flame, but increasingly, their adoration sates me less, and I find it harder and harder to smile politely, to move through the practiced motions.

I stand and cross to the polished mirror mounted on the wall, studying my reflection with detached curiosity. Perfection stares back at me. Flawless skin with the faintest luminous glow, eyes deep and mysterious, lips full and naturally tinted. My hair falls in dark waves around shoulders that poets have compared to marble. I am beautiful, desirable, coveted. But I am not loved. Not truly.

More than anything in the world, I want to love somebody, and actually feel their love in return. Not the shallow admiration of my beauty, or the temporary obsession of lust, but something enduring and profound that will fill the void inside me.

Everyone else on this ship is competing to become immortal. In fact, I doubt there is anyone in Olympus who doesn’t want eternal life. Eternal youth, eternal beauty, eternal power—these are the dreams that drive heroes to extraordinary feats.

But it is almost too much for me to consider. I run a finger down the side of my cheek, feeling the soft skin of my face.

What would I do with a never-ending life if I had nobody to share it with?

The thought of being lonely forever fills me with dread. It crawls up my spine like ice, and for the hundredth time, I regret joining Theseus on this ship.

I can’t stand it. Unrequited love, for an eternity?

But I couldn’t say no to him, couldn’t turn down the chance to be beside him.

I return to the bed, kneeling on the sheets and closing my eyes. I begin to speak aloud.

“Aphrodite, hear my prayer. Please, end my loneliness.”

I imagine a perfect life, far from the emptiness of my current existence. I picture a beautiful home on Pisces, a villa of white stone, my children running up the beach toward me with shells clutched in their tiny hands.

I wring my hands together as I imagine the big, strong arms of Theseus, scooping all of us up in an embrace that feels like coming home. I hear him telling us he loves us and will always be there for us.

I hear the laughter in my head as they play together, not a worry in the world.

My eyes fill with tears and I press my hand to my heart.

“Please, Aphrodite,” I whisper. “Send me love.”

There’s a flash of white light, and suddenly, I’m no longer kneeling on my bed.

I’m kneeling on a white marble floor, in a temple I know well.

My heart hammers under my palm as I look up at the mighty white throne before me, and the goddess seated in it.

Today her skin glows pale under masses of rich, dark hair. Her eyes are almost black, her lips a deep red. She makes my own dark hair and eyes look dull and boring.

“Aphrodite,” I breathe. “You heard me?”

“Of course I did, child.” The goddess of love smiles down at me. “I don’t understand why you need my help, though. You are the demigoddess of pleasure. What in Olympus do you want from me that you can not achieve yourself?” She drops a golden apple into a bowl beside her.

“Theseus doesn’t want me. I’ve tried everything I know to try, but he is not tempted by my flesh or my seductions. I do not have the power to make mortals fall in love. But you do.” I look up hopefully.

“Indeed I do,” she purrs, then picks up the apple and tosses it between her beautifully manicured hands.

Will she really help make Theseus fall in love with me? Could my dreams actually be coming true? Hope burns like fire through my body.

“Hedone, do you know how many times we’ve tried to create the perfect Olympus?”

I shake my head.

“No? Nor do I. I’ve lost count now.” She takes a bite from the apple, her full lips mesmerizing. She chews slowly, her gaze unfocused for a moment. “The last one was the most interesting. We let them do whatever they liked. Full freedom. They began to create new things with Zeus’s electricity and Hephaestus’s metals.” Her eyes are fierce compared to her soft voice. I swallow, trying not to let my nerves show. “They even created devices that allowed them to leave Olympus. Can you imagine? Obviously, we couldn’t let that continue. Athena begged us not to destroy them all and start again, but Zeus’s word is final.” She shrugs her delicate shoulders.

Worry begins working its way through my hope. Why is Aphrodite telling me this? I’ve heard these rumors, but I can’t see what they have to do with Theseus.

“The trouble is, every time you mortals do something interesting, it usually signals your end.” She takes another bite from the apple.

“I don’t understand,” I mumble.

“I am bored, Hedone. So very, very bored. We have all these restrictions now in Olympus—we control everything. It’s boring. But now we have the Trials.” She leans forward in her throne, a smile tugging at her sensuous mouth. “I like moral Theseus well enough, and he has been an asset to my realm over the years. But if we are to make new immortals, I would much rather share eternity with somebody more”—she waves her empty hand in the air as she looks for the right word—“interesting. And you’ve given me a magnificent idea that will make this whole competition more interesting.” Her eyes flash as she smiles fully. “I think I will grant your request for love.”

I take a sharp breath, my concern and confusion dropping away in an instant. “You will?”

“Oh yes. But not with Theseus.”

My smile vanishes, my blood suddenly like ice in my veins.

“No,” I whisper, fear engulfing me. “Please, no.”

Aphrodite’s smile takes a cruel twist. “Don’t be sad, darling. You won’t be pining over him anymore, and that’s what you wanted, isn’t it? In fact, you won’t even remember you ever loved him.”

Tears flood my eyes at the horror of Aphrodite’s words.

The goddess’s own eyes sparkle. “Let’s spice things up a little, shall we?”

Chapter 21

Lyssa

When I feel the Alastor move beneath me, powering through the sky on my orders, I try to instill a tiny glimmer of hope.

Cancer is a good place for the first trial, for a couple of reasons.

Firstly, Hera is a merciful god to those who have never crossed her. With any luck, the event will be exactly as she described, with no hidden surprises.

Secondly, Cancer isn’t far from the Void. It won’t take the Alastor more than a few hours to get there.

“If she wants the lion gone, she could just remove it herself, right?” Lucas asks.

“Of course she could. But what fun would that be?” answers Epizon. He’s leaning against the back of the quarterdeck, watching the orange clouds swirl past the ship. The flickering edges of the clouds shimmer, greens and purples glimmering through the bright umber.

“Any ideas for a plan yet?” I ask him.

“Not yet, captain. If its skin is impervious, then we can’t use traditional weapons, like slingshots or arrows.”

“Poison?” Alexios suggests. He’s staring out at the clouds too, Bassari next to him, paws on the lower railings.

Epizon and I both scowl at him. “Poison is the coward’s way,” Epizon snarls.

Alexios shrugs, looking over his shoulder at Epizon’s unimpressed face. “That’s how you usually get rid of pests,” he says. “And I find it quite effective.”

“Who’s a pest?” says Len, his hooves clicking on the planks as he steps out of the hauler and onto the quarterdeck.

“That depends,” I say. “Has anyone ever tried to poison you?”

Len grunts. “Never accept berries from angry wood nymphs, that’s all I’m saying,” he mutters as he pulls himself up onto one of the benches that line the right side of the deck. He turns to face me. “So.” He claps his small, hairy hands together, looking hopeful. “What’s the plan?”

“Poison it,” Alexios says.

Len guffaws as he looks at him. “You volunteering as bait? Or have you forgotten that it only eats living things?”

“Much as I would love to feed Alexios to a man-eating lion, we have to keep him alive,” I say.

Alexios smiles at me and turns around, mimicking Epizon’s stance. “You never know when we’re being broadcast, my love,” he says.

My mouth falls open. “Did you… Did you just call me my love?”

“Yes, I did. And not for the last time. We need to be convincing.”

Fury morphs my face. “I swear to Hades, if you—”

“Captain, he’s right,” says Epizon tightly. “We don’t know what and when the gods will choose to show the rest of Olympus, and if anyone suspects you two of anything other than romance…”

Alexios pushes himself off the railing and saunters over to me.

I plaster a smile on my face. “Touch me, and I will break your face,” I say through my grimace.

“I believe you, beautiful.” He smiles back.

My smile slips. “Beautiful? Seriously?”

“Fine. You choose a pet name.”

“No!”

“Then I’ll keep testing them until one fits.”

I turn to Epizon. “I can’t do it. I’m going to kill him.”

“Then you die too,” Alexios says.

“Back to the lion,” Epizon says, glaring at Alexios. “If we can’t kill it from a distance then we’re going to need to get close to it. Which means being strong and fast enough to fight it and win.” He looks pointedly at me.

“And people will believe that this fuckwit is going to follow me to within twenty feet of a monster just because he loves me?” I say incredulously, jabbing my thumb at Alexios.

“Well, yeah. That’s what folk in love do,” he says.

I pause. He may have a point.

“Do we know how big the lion is?” asks Lucas.

“No,” replies Len. “I have no prior knowledge of this creature from my books.”

“But we know where it is, right?”

“Lucas, you watched the same message we all did. We have no idea where it is, other than on Cancer.” The patience in Epizon’s voice is strained.

“But someone on Cancer must know where we can find it,” I say. It’s easier to think about the less fatal parts of the plan, like finding the creature, than what I’m expected to do with it after that.

“Where are we landing then, cap?” asks Len.

“I don’t know. The largest settlement on Cancer is Corinthia. All the towns there have docks big enough for the Alastor, so I guess we’ll pick a port and start there. We moor up and start asking questions.” I shrug.

“Can I suggest Port Galatas?” Alexios says.

“No, you can’t,” I snap.

“Port Galatas is the largest port in Corinthia, which means it will likely be where the others head to first, and when they see the Alastor already there, they’ll be disheartened,” he says, brown eyes shining.

“Shouldn’t we be going in stealthily?” Lucas asks.

“No,” says Epizon. “Stealth is pointless. We’ll give ourselves away as soon as we start talking to people to find out where the lion is.”

“Added to which, we were on every flame dish in Olympus yesterday,” I say.

Len grins. “I’m finally famous!”

I roll my eyes. “You won’t be leaving the ship this time,” I tell him.

“You’re damn right I won’t,” he shoots back, suppressing a small shudder. “The place is littered with peacocks. I don’t get on with peacocks.”

The corner of Alexios’s mouth quirks up in a smile and he darts me a look. “Why don’t you like peacocks?” he asks.

Len turns and looks up at him. “The same reason I imagine you don’t like harpies. Enormous, pecking, stupid animals larger than yourself are unnerving. At least you can try to reason with a harpy. Peacocks are dead inside.”

Alexios raises an eyebrow, still smiling. “Fair enough,” he says.

“Lucas, I want you to stay on the ship for this one too,” I say.

I expect him to argue, and am relieved when he offers no resistance. “No problem, captain. I’ll work on some more clothes.”

“Good. Maybe some shoes?”

Alexios looks down at Lucas’s feet. “I have boots you can have,” he says.

Lucas’s eyes light up. “You do?” Then he darts a guilty look at me and says, “No. Thank you, but I’ll keep working to stretch—”

“Take them, Lucas,” I cut him off. “Now that he’s here, you all have permission to take advantage of Alexios as much as you can.”

“Do we have permission to hurt him?” growls Epizon.

Alexios looks at the huge man. There’s no fear in his eyes. In fact, there might be respect.

“You’re grown men. Do what you like.” I shrug. “But not if it hinders any progress in the Trials.”

Epizon nods, still glaring at Alexios. “Hercules must die, captain. That, above all else.”

“Almost all else,” I say quietly, and they both look at me. “Nobody is to put their own life in danger for this, okay? And you should know that I will prioritize saving any of you over killing him.”

Epizon opens his mouth to protest, then closes it. Alexios folds his arms.

“I thought you said we were grown men? Is that not a decision to be made by your crew members?” he says.

“Loath as I am to agree with him, captain, he’s right. I’m entitled to give up my own life to end that of a monster if I choose to,” Epizon says quietly.

“I’m not a grown man, and would one hundred percent rather you saved me than killed Hercules,” announces Len.

“Erm, I haven’t decided yet,” Lucas adds awkwardly.

I look around at them all. “Fine. Whatever. Go and make yourselves useful for a few hours,” I say eventually.

“Your first mate is fiercely loyal to you,” Alexios says when the others have dispersed.

“I imagine you aren’t used to seeing loyalty?” I snap back.

“You two never… you know?”

“Fuck off, Alexios.”

“They might be watching now, you know. We should cuddle.”

I stare at him. “Say another word between here and Cancer, and I will…” I trail off. Will what? I have no threat. I have no power over him.

He grins at me. “Let’s go find Lucas some boots, shall we?”

“I hate you.”

“I know.” He heads toward the hauler, and I have no choice but to follow him.

The Nemean Lion.

After coming to Nemea and tracking the lion, Hercules tried shooting him with an arrow. When he realized the skin was impenetrable, he took his club and chased him. The lion hid in a cave with two openings, and Hercules blocked one off and entered through the other. When he caught the beast, he tightened his arms around its neck until he had strangled it.

EXCERPT FROM

The Library by Apollodorus Written 300–100 B.C.

Paraphrased by Eliza Raine

Chapter 22

Lyssa

I’m so full of impatient energy and barely contained frustration with Alexios that my skin aches by the time we see Cancer in the distance.

Hera’s realm is mostly flat, and its surface is covered in rich green forests broken up by sprawling turquoise lakes, and they look like hundreds of green and blue interlocked fingers to me. As the Alastor speeds closer, I can make out settlements in clusters all along the banks of the lakes. The buildings are all made from white stone, connected by pale paths and roads.

Epizon, Alexios, and I stand on the deck at the bow of the ship, watching the buildings get larger as we glide to a stop next to an empty raised pier at Port Galatas. Haulers run between the pier platforms and the ground.

I take a long breath and look around. We’re not the only large ship in the docks, but there’s no sign of the Hybris, Orion, or Virtus. Either we’ve beaten them all to Cancer, or our competition has docked elsewhere.

As soon as the ship is totally still, Epizon steps easily from the edge of the deck onto the pier and begins to walk toward the hauler at the end. Alexios starts to follow, and I reach out and grab his arm.

He gives me a smile, speaking quietly from the corner of his mouth. “They are most definitely watching now, darling.”

I can’t help my eyes narrowing, but force my face into an expression I hope at least doesn’t say “loathing.” “If we are to stay very close to each other, I think your captain should take the lead, don’t you, darling?”

His large shoulders are relaxed as he sweeps out his arm. “Of course. I shall follow you wherever you may go, my love.”

I incline my head, blood pounding in my ears. This man is a fucking fool. Who still can’t do his shirt up. It’s open to his waist, a new, fancy red coat over the top.

“You’ll be too hot in that coat,” I tell him.

“Your concern warms me already,” he says, shrugging easily out of the coat and passing it to a slightly worried-looking Lucas.

“Whatever it takes to keep you alive.” I grimace back, then vault over the railings and onto the pier. He follows after me.

“I doubt we’ve got much time before the others get here,” says Epizon when I step into the hauler with him. “If they’re not here already. So we need to move quickly.”

I nod.

“Even if we find the lion first, how are you going to kill it?” asks Alexios.

“That’s not your problem,” I answer, and his eyes flash a warning. “Because I’m going to deal with it for you,” I force out sweetly. “Epizon, you take the tavernas nearest the docks, as you have the advantage of looking imposing.” He’s wearing his favorite floor-length black leather coat, which in theory hides his weapons but in reality makes it look like he has an arsenal stored about himself. “You really didn’t need the coat either,” I say.

Epizon looks skeptically at me and pulls open one side of the offending garment. “How else would I hide this?” he asks. He has his huge knife strapped to his right thigh.

“You’ve proven my point,” I answer. “You are the most intimidating. Let me know if you find anything out. Alexios, you stay with me.”

“I wouldn’t be anywhere else, captain.”

Trying hard not to scowl, I step out of the hauler into the bright light. The huge bulk of the Alastor’s hull looms over us.

“Good day to you, travelers,” comes a cheery voice. We all turn to see an older man in a toga coming across the dusty ground toward us.

Hera is the goddess of family and marriage, and by far the most traditional of the gods. In theory Cancer should be a world full of happy families. But Hera is also the goddess of revenge. I haven’t spent much time in Cancer’s pristine towns, but I know enough not to trust the smiling front the folk all put on.

“Good day,” I reply, walking to meet him. “You’re the dockmaster?”

“I certainly am,” he says.

“Great. How much do we owe?”

“Oh, but for you, my dear girl, it will be nothing. You are here to slay this evil creature!”

I shift uncomfortably. Just as we guessed, the people here know who we are and why we’re here.

“Have you heard of any of the other crews arriving on Cancer yet?” Alexios asks.

“No, no, and news travels fast here. You are the first, I am certain.” The dockmaster claps his wrinkled hands together excitedly. “Just wait until I tell my wife I met you all! You’re her favorite, you see. You’re everyone’s favorite here!”

“Why?” I ask, genuinely surprised.

“Dear girl! The very name of your ship epitomizes what we Cancerians stand for. You seek revenge on the man who destroyed your family.” He continues to grin cheerfully, and anger shoots through me.

These people know what I’ve been through and how dangerous Hercules is, and they see it as a game. Entertainment.

“We’ll be sure to do everything we can to help you, and we’ll make things as difficult for that father of yours as we can!”

That father of yours.

Rage surges, but when I open my mouth to tell this man exactly what I think, Alexios and Epizon step forward at the same time.

“You’re very kind, thank you,” says Epizon.

The dockmaster’s grin slips momentarily and is replaced by a look of alarm at being addressed by Epizon, and I get some satisfaction from imagining him greeting the giants when they get here.

“We appreciate your help,” adds Alexios. “Do you know where we can find this lion Hera speaks of?”

“Oh, yes, of course. The Nemean Lion. She lives in the forest just northwest of Port Nemea, south of the nymph settlement.”

“She? The lion is female?” asks Alexios.

“When she wants to be,” answers the man with a scowl.

“Right,” Epizon says. “Well, we won’t use up any more of your time. We’ll take the Alastor to Port Nemea right away. Thank you.”

“No, no, no!” the dockmaster exclaims. “The lion’s lair is not much farther from Port Galatas than it is from Port Nemea, and we can give you directions on foot from here.” He beams at us all in turn, though still slightly nervously at Epizon.

“That would be very helpful,” says Epizon. “We just need a minute to talk through our plan?” Though he words it as a polite question, it’s clear there’s only one answer.

“Of course, of course. I’ll just be over there.” The old man gestures at a small stone hut, where white roads begin to run up the gentle slope toward the town of Galatas.

I nod at him, and, with one last smile, he turns and leaves us.

When I’m sure he’s out of earshot, I turn to the others. “Well?” I ask.

“I like him,” says Epizon.

“You like everyone,” I retort. “He’s either telling the truth and he wants to help, or he’s in the pay of one of our competitors and it’s a trap.”

“I think it’s very likely that we are the first here. Isn’t the Alastor the fastest ship in the Trials?” Alexios says.

“She is.” The compliment to my ship makes my reply a little less sharp. “Len, did you learn anything last night about who the Cancerians are supporting in the Trials?” I say, picturing the satyr and projecting the question to him.

“Who do you think, cap?” comes the reply. “Blood feud and all that? Hera hates Hercules. They’re probably the most likely to back us out of all the realms.”

Athena told me she had secured assistance in getting me into the Trials – might Hera be her ally? After all, Hercules is the famous result of her husband’s infidelity.

“Thanks, Len.” I look at Epizon and Alexios. “Len says they are publicly backing us, and I think Hera might be too. I say we trust him.”

Chapter 23

Hercules

The Hybris makes no noise as it sails into the busy port of Nemea. My Whirlwind-class ship is the best that drachmas can buy, and I’ve filled the towering pillars along the deck with rows and rows of storm ballistae. They have more range than any of my rivals’ weapons, and Zeus has ensured I have limitless shot.

I smile as I think about testing them out on that girl’s miserable Crosswind.

Asterion and Evadne are waiting for me, close to the tall dock I’ve moored perfectly next to. Asterion wears the black tabard he only wears when going ashore. When on ship, the bull creature hates to wear the awkward clothes that have been made for him, so he usually goes without. I couldn’t care less what he does or doesn’t wear, as long as he can fight.

Evadne looks young and pretty, in black leather trousers and boots, and a blood-red shirt that clings to her body. Her blue hair is tied up in a high tail, and she has serious look on her face.

Last night I made her aware that Theseus is not to be admired, and she has regrettably lost some of her youthful enthusiasm this morning.

“Let’s go kill a lion.”

They both nod to me as I march past, then fall in behind me as I step off the Hybris.

I know Cancer well. I visit often to flaunt the fact that I have Zeus’s protection. Hera has hated me since my fateful clash with her all those years ago. She denies it, but I know it was her who sent me the madness that led me to kill my wife, Megara, and my son.

I feel no ill will toward her, though. In fact, I feel indebted to her.

I may never have taken my temper that far, may never have felt the incredible power that comes with taking a life. The day she sent that madness to me was the day I unlocked my true strength. I look up into the bright blue sky and smile my thanks.

We’re in Port Nemea because it’s one of the busiest of the port towns. If any of the locals know where this lion’s lair is, then they will have passed through here at some point.

There are at least twenty more docks on either side of ours, and almost all have ships moored up. Many are longboats, with two or three to a pier, and none are as impressive as the Hybris, but there are a couple of Typhoons and one pleasure Zephyr.

I take a moment to find the names of the Typhoons, stenciled across the tops of their hulls at the bow. Neither are Theseus’s Virtus. I’m not surprised. The Virtus is nowhere near as fast as my ship.

As I reach the end of the dock, a small, harried-looking woman in what might once have been a white toga stops in front of us.

I pause.

“Good day, sir,” she squeaks, looking up at me. Her thin, wispy hair is pinned to her head, and I guess she’s middle-aged. Her eyes dart to Asterion, standing stock-still behind me, and widen.

“It will be, yes,” I reply.

“Yes, yes.” She looks nervously at the sheets of parchment she’s holding. “I just need to collect your docking fee, and I’ll be out of your way.”

I grunt and gesture at Evadne. She steps forward and hands the woman a few drachmas.

“Thank you, dear,” says the woman, making a note on her ledger. “Enjoy Port Nemea,” she adds, starting off toward the next dock.

“Wait,” I call, and she freezes.

“I’m really very busy,” she says as she turns back toward us.

“I assume you know who I am and why I’m here?”

She looks down at her leather sandals. “Yes, of course,” she mumbles.

“Good. Have any of the other ships in the Trials docked yet?” I ask.

“I really shouldn’t—” she starts, and I take a step toward her. My chest expands as I stand straighter, and when I speak, my voice is soft but deeper.

“Just answer the question, and you can go about your business.”

She only hesitates a second longer. “You are the first I know of,” she says, looking down at her feet to avoid meeting my eyes.

Satisfied, I sweep past her and into the hauler at the end of the pier.

My two crew members stay a few feet behind me as I make my way toward the long white promenade that runs along scores of bright white stone buildings.

Many have tarpaulin covers jutting out from the building fronts, shielding fruit and vegetables in crates from the bright light. Others have large, arching doorways and enticing smells wafting from inside.

I know that the farther away from the dock I get, the more residential the buildings become. Tall white columns containing homes stacked one on top of the other for the treasured Cancerian families to live in line the streets beyond the bustling port area.

Only the wealthy families on the edges of the settlements have houses that are detached from other buildings. They also have gardens bordering the dense forest surrounding the towns.

I make for one of the larger tavernas on the busy promenade, facing the dock. Some only serve food, but most serve wine too, and these will be where I find the loosest tongues.

I stop outside an establishment called Orexi, which is flanked by an open-fronted shop selling purple vegetables on the right and a leather beater on the left. An old man is sitting outside on a stool, lazily stroking a soft-looking piece of brown hide. He squints at me as I stride through the stone arch of the taverna.

The inside of the taverna is white except for the ceiling, which has been painted ocean blue. The room is about half full, with clusters of people around tables painted to match the ceiling.

There is a dip in the buzz of conversation as I enter, then the chat resumes restlessly as I sit at an empty table in the middle of the room.

A boy comes to the table and asks what we would like to order.

“Wine,” I answer without looking at him. I’m scanning the room, assessing the clientele.

“Which wine, sir?” asks the boy, and I look at him with a flash of annoyance.

“Red,” says Evadne quickly, and gives the child a look.

He hurries off, and I notice the absence of my Minotaur. “Where’s Asterion?”

“He can’t use these,” she answers, gesturing at the small wooden chair that’s creaking under my own considerable weight.

I think for a moment. “Go and scout the harpy settlement west of here. They might know something,” I tell him mentally.

“Of course, captain.”

The boy returns with wine in a glass decanter, and I hear a distinctly feminine voice.

“That’s the nicest wine you’ll drink on Cancer.”

I look up and smile.

I’ve always loved women with red hair. My wife was a redhead. A scowl flickers across my face at the thought.

“Oh, am I bothering you?” the girl says, misreading my frown.

“Not at all,” I say, sitting back in the too-small chair. “Take a seat.”

She beams and sits down opposite me, next to Evadne. She’s petite and slim, with a strong, square jaw, freckles, and bright, lively green eyes. Her red hair falls about her shoulders in long waves.

“You’re Hercules,” she says excitedly.

I nod and take a sip of wine. It’s sharp and fresh.

“You’re here to kill the Nemean Lion!” She claps her hands together, and the gesture is delightfully youthful.

Evadne coughs next to her. “Captain—” she starts.

I cut her off. “Leave. Now.” Evadne opens her mouth again, and I draw breath sharply through my teeth and fix her with a stare. She closes her mouth. “How many times must I tell you to do something before you do it,” I say, so low and quiet that only she can hear me. It’s not a question. It’s a command.

I catch a glimpse of the fury on her face before she drops her gaze and stands, chair scraping on the tiled floor. I let out a slow breath, trying not to get angry in front of the redhead.

It has never taken me this long to instill obedience into my admirers, though. If Evadne doesn’t fall into line soon, I will have to get rid of her. I suppose I could take her punishments a little further—that should help.

I relax, and my anger ebbs away as I think about that. Evadne wheels around and leaves through the stone archway.

“Oh dear,” says the pretty girl coyly. “Have I caused an issue with your girlfriend?”

“She’s my gunner. I don’t have girlfriends,” I reply.

“Do you like girls, though?” she asks.

I smile. “Yes. Very much.”

She beams again, her eyes raking over my face.

“Did you say Nemean Lion a moment ago?” I ask her.

“Yes. That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? To kill the lion?”

“It is. Is its lair in Nemea?”

“Just outside Nemea, to the north. May I?” She points at the wine.

I can’t help admiring her boldness. The casual naivety of youth. I nod. “Does everyone in Nemea know where its lair is?”

“Yes, of course. Everyone on Cancer. Or how would we know to avoid it?” She laughs as she pours herself wine into what would have been Evadne’s glass.

“What’s your name?”

“Gata.” She sits back with the glass and flutters her eyelashes at me.

I’ve known hundreds of girls like Gata, on every realm in Olympus. I know I should be moving on, using the information she has given me. But her childish adoration is just what I need after Evadne’s impertinence.

I have hours before any of the other ships will arrive on Cancer, I’m certain. And even when they do arrive, I can’t see how any of them will be able to kill a monster with impervious skin.

I’m the only one who can do it.

“Gata, do you think you can help me?” I lean toward her and smile my most charming smile. Not that I need it. I already know the girl will throw herself at me.

I see her arms tremble and her lips part slightly, and know she’s mine.

Chapter 24

Evadne

Iknow I’ll pay later for letting it show how furious I am, but I can’t actually believe he’s picked today, now, in a moment this important, to cast me off to play with some girl he’s just met. What in the name of Hades is he thinking?

Asterion has already left to find the harpies when I exit the taverna, so I pick a random direction and start marching down the paved road. I’m so angry that I’m not paying any attention to where I’m going or what’s around me.

Why couldn’t he have just asked the redhead a few questions and moved on?

There’s only one reason he would want to be alone with the girl.

I growl aloud, drawing the alarmed attention of a woman buying fruit at the stall I’m passing.

He’s an idiot. A fucking fool.

Is he so cocky, so arrogant, that he thinks he has time for this sort of thing?

I know the answer to that, too. An overwhelming feeling of uselessness washes over me, and I slow down, almost reaching a stop.

“Whoa!” a man exclaims as my sudden halt causes him to almost crash into me. He skirts around me, his arms full of bags, and shoots a glare back at me.

I look around myself. I’m in a square with many more food stalls than there are on the promenade.

Taking a deep breath, I try to calm down and consider my options.

I need to prove that I’m useful, or Hercules might decide he doesn’t need me. Or worse, keep the redhead.

Anger surges again inside me at the thought.

I’ve gone through too many of his sordid punishments to be dumped now. The fuck will I let all the humiliation be for nothing.

I will be on the winning team at the end of all this, and I will become immortal.

So, what can I do? We came here for information, so I’ll fucking get some. If I can find out where the lion is before him, he won’t be able to ignore me.

I turn, looking for someone who might talk to me among the busy shoppers. A woman with golden hair tied up in a complicated knot is pulling a white tarpaulin down over the front of a vegetable stall a few feet away. I walk toward her, concentrating on masking the fury still pulsing through me.

“Excuse me,” I say as timidly as I can.

The woman turns toward me, still holding the heavy tarp. “Just a minute,” she says, and wrestles the sheet down to the ground, where she begins tucking the weighted ends under the wooden feet of the stall. When she’s finished, she stands and faces me, dusting her hands off on her long skirt. “What do you need?” she asks.

“Well, I’ve heard that the first of the events is being held here,” I start. I’m trying to sound innocent and young.

The woman cocks her head at me. “Yes,” she replies. “To rid us of the Nemean Lion.”

Nemean Lion? That’s already helpful.

“I would so love to get a glimpse of the heroes. Do you know where they might end up?” I smile, and the woman’s eyes narrow.

“Girl, you take us for fools. I know who you are.” My smile vanishes. “You’re on the crew of the Hybris. And I’ll be damned if I’m helping that murderous captain of yours. I hope she eats him,” spits the woman. “Now, you’ll excuse me.” She sweeps away from her closed-up stall and into the throng of people in the market square.

I clench my fists and take a breath. Well, at least I’ve learned some new information. Hercules isn’t as popular as he thinks he is, and the lion is from Nemea.

I resolutely school my face into a calm expression. I’ll keep talking to people until I have enough information to take to my distracted captain, and then I’ll make him listen.

The fourth person I stop is a harried-looking male satyr. He’s the only one of his race I’ve seen so far, and I know satyrs have a reputation for succumbing to flirtation, so I have high hopes as I step in front of him. He looks up in annoyance and I smile. He looks less annoyed.

“Is there a reason you’re in my way?” he says to me gruffly.

“Oh, yes. I hoped you might help me.” I make my voice sound girlish, and grin.

“What do you want?” He sounds cautious, and his horns twitch as he looks me up and down.

“I wondered if you knew where I might find the heroes of the Trials. I just want a glimpse of them,” I say hopefully.

He snorts. “They’ll all be eaten, girl, just as everyone else who’s tried their hand at slaying her has. You don’t want to see that.” He tilts his head up to see my face better. I’m at least two feet taller than he is.

“How do you know the lion is female?” I ask.

“She can be anything she wants to be. That’s why pretty young things like you shouldn’t be sniffing around this sort of thing. She’s dangerous.” I pretend to look shy at the compliment. The goat-man shifts the bag on his back. “Why don’t you come along to my friend’s taverna, down by the docks? Maybe you can see the heroes from there, if they dock at Port Nemea. I hear Hercules already has.”

“He has?” I sound delighted. “What if he’s already found the lion?” I switch to looking worried.

“Pah! She’ll have found him, more like. I heard he’s just her type, womanizing and immoral.”

“What do you mean?” I ask, the youthful innocence slipping from my voice slightly.

“The Nemean Lion is a creature of Hera’s. Sure, she says the lion is out of control, but that’s horseshit. Hera created her, and she does her bidding. The lion lures single young men with no intention of marrying to their deaths. Does that sound like something the goddess of marriage would want to put a stop to?”

I shake my head slowly.

“I won’t be on Cancer any longer than I can help it, I tell you,” the satyr rants on. “No fun at all. You’re the only girl I’ve seen on her own in three days! Not that I’m desperate or anything, you know. Just would be nice to have some female company.” He stops, and I realize he’s waiting for me to agree.

“I’m sorry, but I have a friend that I really should find.”

The satyr’s face falls. “A male friend?” he asks.

I give him an apologetic smile. Not just a male friend, I think, as I begin to hurry back toward the docks. A single one with no intention of marrying.

I have a stomach-twisting feeling that Hercules may have come across the Nemean Lion sooner than he intended.

Chapter 25

Alexios

The walk through Galatas is taking longer than we expected, because all the locals we pass want to wish us luck and shake our hands. Well, wish Lyssa luck. I’m eyed with suspicion, and in many cases the derision a single man on Cancer is deemed worthy of.

We’re stopped constantly as we walk through the crowded area of tavernas and shops, and only a little less so as we make our way to the east of the settlement through the big white housing blocks.

By the time we reach the quieter, greener houses on the edge of Galatas, most of the well-wishers have dissipated. The peacocks, however, have increased in number.

I’m starting to understand Len’s issue with them; I haven’t seen one smaller than he is. The birds amble around us as we walk, the bright blue of their bodies standing out against their fanned green tails. The eyes in their plumage keep drawing my gaze as I walk down the immaculate, shiny white streets.

“Len’s right, they are kind of creepy,” Lyssa says, eyeing the closest bird.

“They’re beautiful,” says Epizon.

“You would say that,” she says to him. “You see the best in everything.”

I grin at her. “I remember you saying you found peacocks beautiful at the feast.”

She narrows her eyes at me. “Nope, I don’t think so. I recall implying that they strut around, parading their shiny bits for attention. I do not remember saying they are beautiful.”

“Well, I’m sure we can be forgiven for remembering things differently.”

Danger flashes in her eyes, and a thrill whirls through my body. Why do I feel this inexorable urge to irritate this woman? Usually I feel an inexorable urge to escape company, fear of boredom and being contained driving me fast onto the next group. Bassari and I travel alone. But this woman…

Pushing her is dangerous, though. I know it is. The consequences of someone discovering what I’ve done to her, how vulnerable I’ve made her, are real, and lethal. And she is no actress. Her angry heart is spread across her sleeve, her morals and beliefs unquestionable to anyone looking.

Guilt prickles at me, and I force it down.

I work with what I’ve got. And I had to be in the Trials.

And it worked. Here I am.

“I suppose peacocks are better than those sycophantic idiots we’ve spent all morning pushing our way through,” Lyssa mutters, staring at the huge bird now walking along beside us.

“You use that word a lot.”

“Yeah? Well, clearly I have cause to.”

“You don’t think you should embrace their support of you?”

She snorts. “It’s nothing but a game to them. Entertainment. It’s disgusting.”

“I think we should encourage support for our cause,” says Epizon.

“No. My past is not a drama for them to follow,” she mutters.

Epizon looks at her levelly. “It already was, before we started this,” he says softly. “Having people believe in you, and in the downfall of Hercules, can only be a good thing. There’s strength in numbers.”

“Maybe,” she says after a beat, and kicks at a few dry twigs on the ground. The peacock makes an alarmed clicking sound as a twig lands near it, then saunters away.

“They may be listening, or watching now,” I remind her. “You shouldn’t risk alienating them.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” she snaps, then plasters on a fake smile and adds, “Darling.”

“Sorry, sweetie.” I’m unable to choke down the laugh at the disgust on her face. “Okay, back to darling, then.”

After a few more minutes, we reach a gap in the houses, just as the old dockmaster told us we would, an impenetrable-looking forest beyond. It’s a dark tangle of trees, roots, plants, and mossy rocks, and I turn and look back past the white towers to where the Alastor is moored. I can just see it in the distance, silver light rippling across her solar sails.

“The dockmaster says there’s a harpy settlement between us and the lion’s lair, but if we want to give the harpies a wide berth, we’ll lose time,” Epizon says.

“We don’t have time to lose.”

“We also don’t have limbs to lose, captain.”

“Fine. We’ll skirt around the settlement, as close as is safe.”

Epizon nods and unstraps the knife from his thigh.

“Let’s go,” Lyssa says, and we push our way into the thick foliage.

It’s clear folk don’t often enter the forests on Cancer, as there are no paths or accommodations made for travelers. It’s much darker than in the town, the tall tree canopies blocking most of the bright Cancer light.

Epizon goes ahead, his long coat protecting him from branches, his big knife hacking a way through the thick lower branches that block the way. “I knew I’d need my coat,” he tells Lyssa.

I’d rather take the scratches from the foliage than be any hotter than I am. Thick humidity makes everything damp, and I wipe sweat from my brow for the hundredth time.

Huge plants growing from amongst the tangle of roots on the ground sprout leaves almost as big as I am, and I move around the ones Epizon hasn’t hacked away, unwilling to disturb them more than I have to.

The forest is alive with noises, birds calling and twigs cracking and insects buzzing. I’m fairly sure there’s nothing too dangerous native to Cancer’s forests, other than the man-eating lion we know is here somewhere.

The smell in the air changes from damp and earthy to something much less pleasant, and Epizon slows to a stop. We all look up at the dark canopy of trees.

“Harpies,” mutters Lyssa.

“What happens if they see us?” I ask.

“Not got much experience with harpies?” she says to me, as though it’s an accusation.

I spread my hands, but Epizon answers before I can retort.

“It depends if we’re on their land or not. If we’re not, then they’ll probably just throw feces at us,” he says.

I scowl. “Lovely. And if we are on their land?”

“They’ll kill us,” Lyssa says.

Chapter 26

Lyssa

We move more quietly through the woodland, swearing less when we trip over roots, and carefully checking the canopy above us for signs of flying creatures. The stench gets stronger. It smells like rotting fish, and I’m sure it’s made worse by the oppressive heat.

“It’s getting lighter, captain,” says Epizon quietly. “That means there’s probably a clearing ahead.”

He’s right. The thickness of the undergrowth is lessening, and the wall of green trees ahead of us is brighter.

Epizon straps his knife back to his thigh, and we carefully and quietly climb through the tangle of vegetation until we reach the edge of the clearing.

The smell is now almost overwhelming, the rotting-fish stench mixing with the smell of excrement.

In the middle of the clearing is a cluster of trees at least sixty feet tall that have had all their leaves removed, leaving bare branches that start about ten feet up from the ground.

Harpies line them, some asleep, some chattering to each other. Up to the shoulders, they look like overgrown birds with disproportionately large, clawed feet, but from the neck up, they all have wrinkled necks and heads with the distorted features of a human woman. They’re not tall, only around four feet, but I know their folded wings can span double that.

Under the trees, surrounding them in a ring, are bits of wood hung together clumsily to make cages. Voles and squirrels run backward and forward inside, trying to squeeze through the gaps in the wood. Littering the forest floor around the rudimentary cages are small bones, and I feel sorry for the scrabbling little creatures. There can’t be many things worse than ending up as a harpy’s dinner.

I catch my breath as one of the harpies shrieks and expands her leathery wings as she dives from a branch. The bird creature lands silently in front of the cages. She shakes her wings out, hissing.

Epizon tenses as the harpy turns and begins stalking around the group of trees, coming closer to where we’re hidden. The quiet buzz of chatter increases sharply, and then all the bird-women begin dropping from the branches, stretching and shrieking single words repeatedly.

“Fresh!” one nearby yells in an ugly, high-pitched voice.

“Flesh,” replies another, its wings folding behind it.

“Ripe,” calls another.

My legs are tense, ready to run, and I hope the other two are ready as well.

I never have time to give the signal, though. I jump violently as a reeking harpy drops down right in front of me.

“Strangers,” it hisses.

“Run!” I yell, and turn back to the forest, my legs already moving. I have time to register that Epizon and Alexios have already started moving, before pain shoots through my left shoulder, and I’m being dragged backward.

I struggle and kick, anger surging through me, then the liquid fire assaults my stomach.

I’m more than twenty feet from Alexios.

Rage erupts through my body, but it’s not stronger than the pain.

I hear pounding feet and then the fire is gone. Viselike claws dig into my right shoulder, and then I’m off the ground, being lifted out of the forest and into the clearing.

As the harpy moves higher, I can see the mass of leathery creatures below, shrieking and chittering excitedly, then I see two of them beside me, carrying the hulking form of Alexios between them.

Did he come back, or did they catch him?

I try to reach my arms up, but the clawed grip on my shoulder stops me. Power is flooding my body, and my vision narrows as the harpy brings me toward a massive branch on one of the central trees.

Please bring Alexios to the same branch, I pray. Otherwise, I’m as good as dead.

“I’m in the forest—what can I do?” Epizon’s voice sounds in my head.

“Stay there. They’ve taken us up the tree, and there’s too many of them for you to fight alone. I’ll tell you when we need you.”

I tense as the bird-woman drops me, flinging my arms and legs around the branch to stop myself from falling. The impact thumps through my chest, and I take a huge breath. My Rage overtakes the pain, and I haul myself up to a sitting position quickly as the harpy lands expertly next to me. The branch shakes as they set down Alexios.

Thank the Fates.

“Strangers,” the harpy hisses again. Other harpies begin landing on the branches around me.

“I mean no disrespect,” I say slowly, trying to calm my racing pulse. I have nothing to lose by trying to reason with the creatures. I don’t want to fight them—I have a lion to kill. Plus there really are a lot of them. “We were just passing by.”

“So close?” the harpy says, cocking her head. She has one red eye much lower than the other, and slits for nostrils. Her lips are thin and parched, and lank hair hangs in patchy threads from her scalp.

“Yes. We didn’t mean to. We’ll leave now.” I roll my shoulders as I speak, my legs wrapped tightly around the branch. I glance across at Alexios, who is also sitting, a remarkably calm expression on his face. Heat prickles across my skin in anticipation.

“Payment,” says the harpy.

“I have drachmas,” Alexios says.

“Harpies have no need for silver,” I growl at him.

“Payment,” the ugly creature repeats, lifting a clawed foot toward me.

“What do you want?” I ask, leaning away from the sharp claw, every muscle tense and ready.

“A finger,” the harpy says, eyes shining.

As the hooked claw lunges for me, I throw myself sideways.

My legs grip the branch for a moment, then I’m falling toward the ground.

Chapter 27

Lyssa

“Jump!” I yell at Alexios as I fall, and hope to the gods that he times it right.

I tumble in the air, trying to right myself, and close my eyes, feeling power flow through my body. My Rage-fueled strength takes over my limbs, and my feet hit the ground with a thud. My momentum springs me back up, just in time to throw an arm out and slow the crashing fall of Alexios.

I do a poor job, and he smashes into the cages, splintering them apart, with a painful-sounding crack.

He gasps for air, and I haul him to his feet as the shrieking descends.

“Broken—rib—” he wheezes as I wrap my much-too-small arm around his waist. I take as much of his weight as I can and take off running toward the dense forest. Shadows whirl above us, beaks and claws close, then Epizon is on the other side of Alexios and I’m relieved of the awkward grip.

We sprint into the forest, a talon catching my shoulder as we dive into the thick foliage.

We don’t slow as deafening shrieks follow us, stumbling and leaping over boulders and roots in our way. The farther we get into the forest, the weaker the shrieks become, but we still don’t slow.

Only when I’m sure they’ve given up following do we stop, taking huge gulps of warm, sticky air. I have no idea which direction we’ve taken, and I swear loudly, kicking at a boulder, as we lay the dead weight that is Alexios down on the mossy ground.

“Bassari,” Alexios whispers, and his words sound wet.

“Shit, captain,” Epizon says as we look at his face. There’s blood filling his mouth, dribbling over his full lips.

“He said he broke a rib. It may have punctured something.”

If he dies, I experience crippling pain for the next month.

With a shimmer, his blue fox appears. It moves far faster than when I broke Alexios’s nose. It’s at his belt in an instant, nose pressed to a small purple vial.

“Make him drink it,” Bassari tells me as it glows bright.

I unstop it fast, and press it to Alexios’s scarlet mouth. He grunts and tips his head back with a wince, and I pour the liquid in.

“He’s going to need some time,” Bassari says as we all watch Alexios let out a long breath. The blood bubbles on his lips.

“How long? Will he live?”

“Yes. About an hour.”

Both relief and anger flow through me in intertwining waves, and I sit down hard on a boulder.

I’m trying to pretend it’s anger with him. I mean, what the fuck did he think would happen, binding us together like this for a series of deadly trials? If we can barely even fight harpies, how the fuck are we supposed to beat the actual monsters?

But the truth is, though, some of the anger is with myself.

I ran away.

I’m supposed to be the girl who doesn’t run anymore. And I just ran for my life from some mangy harpies.

This is a shit start to living by that mantra.

“If you weren’t saddled with him, you’d have escaped no problem. Your strength made that an easy jump,” Epizon says quietly.

“You know I can hear you,” Alexios mumbles from the ground. “So might others.”

I rub my face. “What matters is that he’s going to be fine.”

“And all of Olympus now knows I have a magical healing fox,” he adds. “That wasn’t my plan.”

“This isn’t about you.” I sigh.

“It sort feels like it is right now.”

“If you can talk, you can walk,” I say, but Bassari turns to me.

“No. His bones are knitting back together, and the hole in his lung is draining before it repairs. He can go nowhere for a little longer.”

“Then he can conserve his energy and stay quiet.”

Bassari nods at me.

“That’s quite a healing potion,” I say mentally to the fox. “Thank the gods.”

“Thank Dionysus in particular,” Bassari answers. “That is where this magic comes from.”

“I thought Hermes is the god of healing?”

“He is. But Dionysus is the god of all things alchemical, and you can choose what to do with that.”

“And Alexios chose healing?”

“Amongst other skills, yes.”

I fall silent, wringing my hands. We’re losing our lead. But the evidence of how powerful Bassari’s healing is forces me to wonder for the first time if Alexios could genuinely be an asset. Then I remember that I would have been out of that tree and would probably have found the fucking lion by now, if it weren’t for being physically bound to a complete and utter idiot.

This is his own damn fault.

Eventually, Bassari announces Alexios is healed enough to move, and he drags himself upright. Reluctantly, I offer him a hand, and he takes it.

“Can he run and fight?” I ask the fox.

“Not really, no. Not until he’s rested fully, overnight.”

I grind my teeth.

“I can see how much you want to kiss your lover in relief,” Alexios says to me, a tiny wince in his shining eyes as he straightens to his full height. “After all, I did nearly die.”

I stand on tiptoes and press my lips to his cheek. “If you weren’t bound to me, I would have let you,” I whisper before pulling back and giving him a huge, fake smile.

“I believe you.” He smiles back.

“Follow me, captain,” says Epizon, mercifully giving me a reason to turn away from Alexios.

He scouted our position while we waited, and now he has his knife out, ready.

“Let’s go,” I say.

We move slower than before, and energy is swirling through my body in pulsing waves.

I need to fight now. I almost want to go back to the harpy settlement, just to fight.

“So,” says Alexios, falling into step beside me.

“So, what?” I yank a leafy branch out of my way viciously.

“So, you can fall twenty feet and not break both your legs,” he says. “How?”

“Zeus’s granddaughter, remember? If you’re stronger than the ground, it can’t hurt you.”

“Right,” he says after a pause. “Didn’t know that’s how it works, but sure. Are we going to talk about the fact that you didn’t catch me?”

“I nearly caught you. You jumped too early.”

“You missed.”

“You went too early,” I repeat.

“You told me—” he starts, but I cut him off.

“Stop talking. Conserve your energy.”

He eyes me sideways, but falls quiet as he follows me through the trees. The disgusting smell is starting to clear from the air. A voice in my head makes me jump.

“Cap, you there?”

“Gods! Yes, Len, I’m here. What is it?” I ask, shaking my head.

“You were right about not going to that party on the Virtus,” Len says. “They just sent out a message on the flame dishes. It looked like a hell of a night. I could see some nymphs asleep behind Theseus, and if they were wearing anything—”

“Len! Get to the point, please.”

“Sorry, cap. Basically, they overdid it and never set off this morning. They apologize profusely to their supporters and will try harder next time, blah, blah, blah.”

The anger I’ve tried to settle rekindles immediately, and I kick the tree closest to me. Leaves rustle as it shudders.

“Theseus is a fucking moron! He’s Hercules’s biggest competition, if he’s not taking this seriously, Hercules is all but guaranteed to win!” Epizon turns to me at my outburst, and I pinch the bridge of my nose. “Theseus missed the start of the Trial. They’re not coming.”

Epizon gives a small hiss of annoyance, but Alexios just shrugs. “Nobody is guaranteed to win. The Trials are anyone’s game,” he says.

I glare back at him. “This isn’t a fucking game.”

“I think you’ll find that’s exactly what it is.”

“Don’t—” I start, but Epizon cuts me off abruptly.

“Get down!” He gestures to the ground, urgency on his serious face.

All three of us duck down, hidden easily by the haphazard boulders, moldy trunks, and enormous plants that make up the forest.

My heart starts to pound as I hear the distinct sound of someone else forcing their way through the unrelenting trees. We crouch silently, time stretching as the sounds grow closer.

I hear a slight muttering, and it sounds female. That means it’s a local, or Evadne from Hercules’s crew. There are no women on the Orion, and the Virtus isn’t here. My throat constricts slightly. If it’s Evadne, then Hercules won’t be far away.

The woman’s voice becomes clearer, and we all crouch even lower as the trees to our right begin to move a little, then a lot, as a figure pushes through.

My mouth falls open in surprise.

A girl not much younger than myself, with flaming-red hair, is dragging a huge, muscular man dressed in black across the forest floor. The man must be unconscious or dead, because when she can’t pull him through the undergrowth, she’s lifting him by the waist of his trousers and heaving him over obstacles like a ragdoll, all the while cursing him for being so heavy.

I stare, agape, at the man’s lifeless form.

It’s Hercules.

Chapter 28

Hercules

My head hurts. My head never hurts. I blink as I wake, my vision blurry as my eyes adjust to the dim light.

A tendril of panic creeps through me when I realize that I don’t know where I am. I swallow down the unease before it forms fully.

It doesn’t matter where I am. What matters is who will pay for this.

Closing my eyes again, the blackness easier to deal with, I try to think.

I was in the taverna with the pretty redhead. I told her I would spend an hour alone with her if she would show me where she thought the lion’s lair was, and she agreed, enthusiastically.

It’s hard for an unmarried couple to be alone on Cancer, so she told me to meet her near one of the larger estates near the forest edge, and then she slipped away. I waited long enough to finish my wine and went after her.

I will what happened next to present itself. My head throbs again and I suppress a groan. All I can remember is a peacock’s face as I lay on the ground.

I take a long breath and open my eyes again. They clear quicker this time. I’m in a very large, very comfortable bed.

The bed is in the center of a stone room with no windows, lit by candles on shelves all around the edge of the circular space. It’s clearly set up for romance, and I relax. It’s obvious that I’m in a room used for secret trysts, so it’s highly likely I’m where I was supposed to meet Gata. I still can’t understand how I got here, though.

“Gata!” I call loudly.

“You’re awake!”

I hear her before I see her, and twist to look back at an archway to the left of the bedhead. My eyes widen momentarily when I see her, and I let out a long breath.

She’s completely naked as she steps through the doorway toward me. Her red hair falls about her freckled shoulders, and she’s beaming at me. “I was worried about you,” she says, reaching me.

“You were?” I mutter, my gaze fixed on her body.

“When that awful man attacked you, I didn’t know what to do. I’m just glad you were already so close to my home.”

“Attacked me?” I say, my eyes snapping to hers. “Who attacked me?” I sit up straighter and notice absently that I have no clothes on under the sheets either.

“A man, shouting about you not winning the Trials.” She shrugs. “But you’re here now.”

I frown and move my hand to my head. “How did I end up unconscious?” I ask, feeling for a wound. It takes a lot to knock me out. In fact, I’ve only ever known one man to do it. Suspicion and anger surge inside me.

“That doesn’t matter now,” says Gata, climbing onto the bed and kneeling in front of me. She takes my other hand, guiding it over her taut stomach.

I’m distracted by the feel of her soft skin for only a few seconds. My being rendered unconscious by an unknown assailant is more than I can bear. I pull my hand away from her.

“I must know who did this.”

“No, what you must do is touch me, Hercules.” She takes both my hands and presses them to her breasts. Her nipples harden under my palms, and she tips her head back. “Oh, how I’ve longed for a man’s touch,” she breathes.

Something is wrong, but my hands are moving over her skin, my fingers pressing into her firm flesh. Her legs part, and she grips my wrists, moving my hands lower.

“Wait.” I stop, resisting her tugs.

“I don’t want to wait. I’ve waited long enough.”

“Who attacked me?”

“Why does it matter? We’re here, alone, now.”

“It matters because no man may render me unconscious and not pay the price,” I growl.

“Is that more important than me right now?” She lets go of my wrist and moves her own hands between her legs. With a long stroke, she purrs.

My cock stiffens, but I can’t be distracted by this.

I drop my hands from her body. “Yes. I must find him, immediately.”

She throws her hands in the air and gives a shout of annoyance. “You would rather assert your manly pride than fuck me?”

I blink at her, the shift in tone catching me by surprise.

“Gods, I did it! I drugged your wine, you imbecile!”

I stare at her.

“You may be a pretty man, but there’s not a lot going on up there, is there?” She taps the side of her head mockingly.

My shock finally gives way to anger, and my hands clench into fists. The muscles in my legs and shoulders tighten as I prepare myself for violence. Excitement begins to rush through me.

“Who are you?” I ask quietly.

She steps back from the bed and raises her eyebrows at me. “Surely you’ve guessed by now,” she says. As she speaks, her red hair grows around her, both in length and volume.

I growl and spring to a crouch in the huge bed.

“It’s a shame I’m going to have to kill you so soon. You’re the nicest-looking man I’ve had here in years. I really did want to fuck you first.” She smiles, and it’s no longer the giddy beam that the young Gata was giving me before. It’s a cruel smile, under hungry, narrowed eyes.

Adrenaline courses through me, and my muscles twitch as I maintain my rigid crouch on the soft mattress. I need to be ready for anything.

Her red mane has grown down over her shoulders and around her neck and stopped changing, but now her chest is morphing, along with her arms. I watch, transfixed, as the beautiful girl’s body distorts and transforms, finally followed by her face. Her petite, freckled nose lengthens, and her eyes widen and spread. Her mouth merges with the growing snout, and sharp white teeth flash as she flexes her morphing jaw.

As her front legs thud onto the floor, she shakes her head, the fiery mane now framing the head of the most magnificent lion I’ve ever seen. She must be five feet tall at the shoulder, her head probably level with my own if I were standing, and she paws the stone ground with claws almost the size of my hands.

I look into her golden eyes, and though the color has changed, I recognize the girl I was with in their flashing excitement.

She roars, an earth-shaking sound that sends shivers through my taut body, and I smile.

“You’re still beautiful,” I tell her. She drops into a tight crouch. “And this is going to be my greatest victory yet.”

She pounces at the same time that I leap from the bed.

Chapter 29

Lyssa

Epizon appears from around the other side of the huge boulder we followed the girl and her quarry to. “There’s no other way out that I can see, captain,” he reports.

I put my hands on my hips and take a deep breath. “Gods, I hope she’s killed him.”

I feel an unexpected pang of regret that if she has, it wasn’t me who ended his life. But the reality of that is faint, and there can be no greater outcome of these immortality Trials than one of them killing Hercules for us.

“We are assuming that the beautiful redhead is the Nemean Lion? She’s a shape-shifter?” asks Alexios.

“You think a human girl could drag the strongest man in the world through a fucking forest?” I lace my voice with sarcasm, and he gives me a smile.

“You could.”

“We still don’t know if we’re being broadcast,” Epizon rumbles. “You two need to stop fighting.”

I have an idea, and reach out mentally to Len. “Len, are the gods showing the Trial on the flame dish?”

A beat later, he replies, “No. That annoyingly chirpy commentator said we’ll see the highlights after.”

“Huh.”

I tell Epizon and Alexios what he said.

“Makes sense, or every crew would leave one person on their ship to spy on everyone else,” says Alexios.

He’s right, but I have no intention of agreeing with him out loud.

“Any ideas on how we kill this lion, captain?” asks Epizon.

“If she’s killed Hercules, I’ll do no such thing,” I mutter. “I’ll buy her a drink.”

“She’s a flesh-eating monster that we need to kill to win immortality. We should probably come up with at least a couple of options.”

I glare at Alexios, but don’t answer.

Thoughts do begin to tumble through my mind, though.

If Hercules really is dead already, should we continue in the competition?

Every time I’ve tried to imagine an eternal life, pain blooms in my forehead, and my thoughts get muddy.

It’s too much. I can’t comprehend it, can’t even begin to work it out. And I’m not about to try again in a stinking, humid forest.

I’m here to stop Hercules. And if, by some miracle, that’s already happened, then I can work out what to do next, with Epizon and Len. Maybe Lucas. Alexios can go fuck himself.

The sky above us darkens, and I look up, instinctively fearing harpies. But the cause of the sudden block in light shining through the forest canopy is the enormous hull of a Zephyr-class ship.

“Shit.”

The ship hovers for a few moments more, then soars away, letting the light stream back into the forest.

“They must have just been dropping off,” mutters Epizon.

“How did they find the lair?” I ask.

“Same way we did, I imagine. Asking people,” he answers.

“And this is why you need me and my money,” whispers Alexios. “If your longboat was repaired, we could have done that, and saved hours walking through this highly unpleasant forest.”

I narrow my eyes at him. “Thank you for the pointless reminder. You didn’t have a longboat, or give us time to pay to have ours fixed before you—”

“Stop,” says Epizon, and I clamp my mouth shut.

I was less than a second from saying poisoned me.

If we get off Cancer alive, I will watch these highlights and find out if we can be heard. And if we can, I’m going to have to improve my acting.

I settle for averting my gaze from the infuriating idiot, and imagining punching him instead.

“Captain, what do you want to do when the giants get here? Do we fight?” Epizon asks, and I’m grateful for the subject change.

“No, not if we can help it. The goal is to stop Hercules, and they are formidable opponents on their own. They could be useful allies. Especially if Theseus is not serious about this.”

“They are competing for immortality. They’re going to fight you if they think you’re in their way,” says Alexios.

“Us,” I say with a sarcastic smile. “I think you’ll find that they’re going to fight us now.”

He tilts his head in a touché gesture, a small smile on his lips. “Indeed, my love.”

I breathe in hard through my nose. “Can you fight yet?”

He’s silent a beat, I assume communicating with Bassari. “No. Not really.”

A grunt of annoyance escapes me. “Why me? Why have I been—”

“Lucky enough to meet the love of your life, then watch him come back from the brink of death?” His eyes aren’t smiling with his mouth, and I wonder if I’ve actually been able to piss him off at last.

“If the giants’ Zephyr is here, then we’ve definitely lost our time advantage,” Epizon rumbles. “It’s the slowest ship in the competition.”

“Without a plan to pierce impervious skin, it doesn’t matter,” Alexios says. “If she’s killed Hercules, then she can kill us too, and likely as many giants as she likes.” He looks over at the cave entrance.

I suspect we’re all thinking the same thing, but nobody gives it voice.

It is entirely possible that Hercules has killed her down there.

He is, after all, the strongest man in the world. If anyone is going to beat a lion in close combat, it’s him.

The trees opposite the cave entrance begin to shake, and I whip around.

One by one, three giants step into the forest clearing.

Chapter 30

Eryx

The tiny girl who captains the Alastor deliberately drops her weapon and spreads her arms out as my captain approaches her. I’m surprised, although the human on her left looks like he could do some damage with the glinting knife that he’s holding in both hands, and he appears to have no intention of dropping it.

“We know that the lion is in her lair and that Hercules is in there with her, probably unconscious or dead,” Captain Lyssa says to Antaeus as he comes to a stop. “We think it would be best to let her kill him first. One less competitor to worry about.” She gives him an awkward smile.

Antaeus replies with a deep growl, “That man and his whole crew should be dead. They tricked us!”

I wince. I hoped that wouldn’t be shared, especially not with a crew we’re competing against.

I’m in the line of trees at the clearing edge, out of sight, and have been told I’m not to come out unless called for. I’m being punished for my idiocy.

I grind my teeth together in impotent frustration as I watch the idiotic, sweaty brothers Albion and Bergion flanking my captain. To be fair, they’re doing a good job of looking threatening.

“Hercules’s crew are not good people,” Captain Lyssa agrees.

Antaeus folds his arms. “How do we know if, or when, the lion has killed him?” he asks. He’s twice her height and only a few feet in front of her, so she’s craning her neck to look up at him.

There’s a white-haired man on her left I don’t recognize, who appears to be unarmed. I stay poised in the trees, ready to defend my crewmates if they need me.

“I don’t know,” the girl admits.

Antaeus snarls again and strides to the edge of the clearing. He bends his knees and wraps his arms around a massive tree in front of him. Bellowing as he stands, he tears the tree clear from the ground.

He can barely fit his arms around it as he carries it to the cave entrance and throws it down. The ground shakes, leaves and branches cracking as it lands. When it’s laid on its side, the trunk is just taller than the cave mouth. Antaeus shoves it against the tunnel entrance, trapping both the lion and Hercules in the cave.

A roar blares from the forest, and Lyssa and the two men she’s with spin quickly.

The sound of pounding hooves crashes through the air, and Albion and Bergion stamp their feet, bending their knees and shifting their weight like the trained boxers that they are.

Asterion the Minotaur bursts into the clearing. He gives a guttural howl and launches himself at the biggest threat there: Antaeus.

The creature’s bull head strikes Antaeus in the abdomen, and the giant goes flying backward. Albion and Bergion look at each other, roar in unison, and swing toward the Minotaur.

“He’s mine!” bellows Antaeus, already getting back to his feet. “Disarm the humans!”

The giant brothers halt mid-swing and turn back toward the human crew of the Alastor. Lyssa is holding her ground, her slingshot back in her hands. I can’t help being impressed with her resolve against such a huge opponent.

I know Antaeus can handle the Minotaur, and I know I can’t disobey orders, but I burn to join the fight. I grip the tree next to me, watching enviously.

Albion is squaring up to the man with the knife. He must be only about three feet shorter than the giant, a similar size to myself. He’s managing to look both fierce and calm as he raises the big blade level with his head and spins it slowly. Albion laughs.

Lyssa and the other human man are backing away from Bergion, who is smiling as he advances on them. Lyssa is still trying to talk to the giant, but I can’t hear what she’s saying over the grunts and yells of the Minotaur.

I look over just as Antaeus throws the bull-man into a vast tree at the edge of the clearing. Asterion hits it with a grunt and slides unceremoniously down the rough bark. The giant shouts with glee, and the Minotaur’s hooves scrabble for purchase on the forest floor as he shakes his head dazedly.

I’m so focused on the fights in the clearing that I don’t hear Evadne as she creeps up to me. When she touches me on the shoulder, I whip round, hands balled into fists, ready to attack.

“Hey!” she whispers, ducking under my punch. “It’s only me!”

Anger floods me when I see her, her blue ponytail swinging over her shoulders, her dark eyes wide. How can she wear that smile, look so infernally innocent, when she’s such a liar?

“Only you?” I lace my voice with all my fury. “I should kill you! You’re the reason I’m standing in this fucking forest instead of out there! You sly witch, you tricked me!”

“Well, it is a competition. And besides, Hercules made me do it.” She pouts a bit. I don’t unclench my fists.

“You’re in luck, then. Your captain’s likely dead already, so you needn’t worry about him making you do anything else,” I spit.

Pain flashes across her face, and I’m annoyed at the guilt it makes me feel.

She’s a liar. I don’t owe her kindness, or sympathy.

“Do you know where he is?” she asks, her voice now low and quiet.

“In the lion’s lair, under that rock.” I nod at the clearing.

She pushes past me and looks toward the blocked cave. I follow her gaze and see that Lyssa and the other human have gone. Bergion has joined Antaeus, and they’ve trapped the Minotaur between them. He’s pawing the ground and snorting hard.

Albion and the human are dancing around each other, the human jabbing with the knife and Albion throwing punches. They both look like they’re having a good time, under the circumstances.

“Under the rock?” Evadne asks me. “How?”

“There’s a passage down there. I guess there are caves under us or something.” I shrug. “I shouldn’t be talking to you. Go and help your bull friend.”

She snorts. “Asterion is no friend of mine. I just share a ship with him. How do we get down there?” She looks up at me, her face resolute.

“We?” I goggle at her. “Why would we go down there?”

“To kill the lion. What else are you here for?”

“To serve my captain,” I snap.

She wrinkles her nose and frowns. “Then what are you doing hiding in here?” I shift uncomfortably and look away. “Is it because you’re not a proper giant like them? They don’t let you fight?”

I give a bark of frustration and punch out at the tree next to me. “Because of you! I’m being punished because I believed you, you snake!” I expect her to look triumphant or mocking at my admission, but her face softens.

“I’m punished for things all the time on the Hybris,” she says quietly.

“Then why do you stay?” I snarl. I don’t want to empathize with this girl. She tricked me.

Her eyes light up when she answers. “Immortality,” she breathes. “What a prize! Just imagine, having forever to learn anything you need to, travel anywhere you like, gather anything you want. Try all the world’s wonders, meet all the realms’ people…”

I grunt, refusing to engage her in this conversation. What I would do with immortality is none of her damn business.

“And we’re going to win it, starting right now. Come on, we’ll prove to your captain that he needs you by slaying this lion for him.”

She says it so matter-of-factly that I almost follow her into the clearing.

“Wait!” I say, and grab her arm. She turns to me.

“No! We need to do this now, and I can’t do it by myself. Then you can take me with you on board the Orion and explain how much I helped. Apparently, I’m looking for a new captain.”

She smiles at me, and I hesitate.

If her motivation is truly to win immortality, then she could genuinely be trying to help me now. But the pain I saw in her face when I told her Hercules was dead is at odds with this sudden indifference.

“Fine,” she says, pulling out of my grip. “You stay hidden in the forest. I’ll go and talk to Antaeus myself.”

“He’ll kill you,” I say.

“Then you’d better come and help me kill the lion instead,” she says, and strolls away from me.

With a hissed curse, I follow her.

I don’t know why—it will likely earn me another punishment, or get me killed. But I can’t watch this small human woman be torn apart by a lion, can I?

“What exactly do you think we can do?” I bark as I catch up with Evadne halfway across the clearing to the tree. The big human male has vanished, and I find myself hoping Albion hasn’t killed him. I should like to fight him myself one day.

All three of my crewmates are engaged in tying the Minotaur, by his ankles, to one of the highest branches they can reach on the massive tree. None of them notice Evadne and me.

“Just move this out the way first so we can get down into the caves.” She gestures at the trunk Antaeus has laid across the cave entrance. If she’s nervous about being spotted by the giants, she hides it well.

“Fine,” I grumble, and fall in beside her.

When we reach the trunk, I crouch and curl my arms as far underneath it as I can. When I try to lift, it barely moves.

Embarrassment washes over me. Only my mother is a giant—I’m half human. Antaeus is much stronger than I am.

I don’t want Evadne to think that, though.

Why the Fates do I care what she thinks? What’s wrong with me?

I stand up straight and wrap my arms over the top of the fallen trunk instead.

“It’ll be easier if we roll it away,” I tell her, as assertively as I can. She nods, and, with a mammoth effort, I heave the huge trunk away from the entrance.

Chapter 31

Hercules

Where the fuck has she gone? I’m lost in a maze of caves, her snarls and snorts in the dark now silent.

She is a fierce fighter, I grant her, but I am certain I am stronger than her. I need no weapon to pierce her hide and best her, but I do need to know where she is.

We tore through the living rooms of her caves, rolling and wrestling, snarling and slashing, and she was able to land some lucky swipes with her monstrous claws before she scurried away into the depths of this godforsaken, pitch-dark hellhole.

Blood drips down my chest from a wound in my shoulder, but I can barely feel it. It is her pain I wish to feel.

The end of the tunnel I’m padding silently down seems to lighten. I speed up, and as I reach the forked end, I can see clearly that one of the stone passageways is indeed lighter than the other.

I continue to follow the light until my path opens out into a larger cavern that slants upward. On the other side of the cavern is the lion, scratching ferociously at a blocked opening, large chunks of wood coming away from her claws.

There’s a gap at the top of the opening, and it’s getting slightly wider by the second.

I think fast. Someone else must have blocked that opening, as she clearly didn’t. That means there’s either friend or foe on the other side. I have to act quickly, or I risk losing my chance to kill the creature before someone else does.

As soon as I judge the opening wide enough, I run at the clawing beast. I throw myself at her as I reach her back, and our combined weight forces the heavy blockage back far enough for us both to roll out of the cave.

I hear a male-sounding roar but have no time to see who made it. The lion is trying to turn under me as we roll, so that I won’t end up on her back. I wrap my arms tightly around her, and she struggles harder. There’s shouting all around me and I risk glancing up.

Evadne is standing a few feet to my left, beside a black-haired giant who has been knocked to the ground. The idiot girl is firing lead from her slingshot uselessly at the beast.

“Stop!” I yell, sure the fool will hit me instead.

She looks shocked and pulls her weapon up immediately. The lion thrashes under me as we stop rolling.

I throw my weight forward to make sure I end up on top and squeeze my mighty arms around her as tightly as I can. Her snarls turn to whimpers. More lead shot begins zinging around me, and I hear another roar and pounding steps getting louder.

It’s now or never.

With lightning speed, I let go of the beast’s chest and throw myself up her back, wrapping my arms around her throat. I crush my arms together with all the strength I have and hear her neck snap.

Her thrashing and whimpering stops immediately, and I feel her go limp beneath me.

A blissful feeling of power pours through me in waves.

I’m mighty.

I’m unstoppable.

Invincible, even.

I loosen my arms, and the pounding footsteps come to a halt. As I stand slowly, naked and glistening with blood, I hold my arms out.

“I will be immortal!” I cry, adrenaline and pride coursing through me.

My leg buckles suddenly. I drop to one knee, still standing over the huge lion. Pain forces its way through my elation, and I bellow in anger.

“Enough.”

The voice is so commanding, even the forest itself seems to still. I grit my teeth through my pain and confusion, and look around.

Hera is standing in the clearing, no more than a few feet from the fallen lion.

I bow my head to her. When I look up, I see that three other giants are also in the clearing and bowing low to the god. I turn as far as I can on one knee to look behind me. Lyssa and two of her crew stand at the edge of the clearing, also bowed low. Even from here I can see that my pathetic daughter is shaking.

Hera takes a step toward me. Pride swells in me again, and I try to stand back up. I stumble but manage.

“You have been wounded, victor,” says the unsmiling goddess. “By your own daughter, no less.”

“What?” Rage grips me. Now Hera smiles.

I struggle around to look at Lyssa.

She stands slowly from her bow, eyes locked on mine. Defiance radiates from her, and for a moment I feel I’m staring into my wife’s green eyes. An unexpected bolt of pain runs up my leg, causing my core to constrict, and I drop her triumphant gaze, my mind still filled with the image of Megara’s face. I clench my teeth against the memory and the pain, briefly unable to differentiate between the two.

“Citizens of Olympus,” says Hera. I snap my head back to her. “The first Trial is complete. Hercules of the Hybris is your champion. The next Trial will be announced tomorrow morning at sunrise.” She puts her arms down again and vanishes with a small fizzing sound.

When I turn again to my daughter, all I can see of her is her red hair disappearing into the forest. The giants, too, are lumbering out of the clearing into the foliage, the smallest one throwing back a dark look over his shoulder.

“Asterion!” I bark.

“Captain,” comes the Minotaur’s response.

I look around for him as Evadne approaches the dead lion cautiously. “Where are you, you damn fool?” I roar at my Minotaur. The pain in my leg is causing my temper to flare, and I try to cling to the glow of my victory.

“He’s up there, captain,” says Evadne, gesturing upward at a massive tree. Asterion is swinging by his heavy haunches from a branch more than ten feet off the ground.

I growl. “Go and get him down. I need him to help me get this”—I kick the lion as I step awkwardly over her body—“back to the Hybris.”

Evadne wrinkles her nose. “Back to the ship? Why?”

“I’m not wasting a trophy like this.” I stare down at the lifeless beast, remembering the beautiful young woman she used to be. “All will know I won the first task. And all will watch while I win the others.”

I started to wonder how I might remove the skin from the creature’s dead body. It would be impossible, I thought, because I could not cut it with any mortal weapon. It was then that I was advised I could cut the lion’s skin with one of the lion’s own claws. This I did, and had the job done quickly. I was then able to wear the skin as a defense against war.

EXCERPT FROM

Idylls by Theocritus

Written 300-100 B.C.

Paraphrased by Eliza Raine

Chapter 32

Evadne

Hercules lets me tend to the wound to his leg in the longboat on the way back to the ship. If I cause him any pain, he masks it perfectly.

“The shot isn’t even sharpened well—I don’t understand how it penetrated the skin so deeply,” I muse as I pluck out the lead from the hole in the side of his knee.

“Hera,” he growls. “She helped it on its way through my flesh, I am certain.”

As soon as we get back to the Hybris, he carries the lifeless creature into the biggest hauler and takes it down to the cargo deck, limping ever so slightly.

The sight of his bulging arms and rippling chest as he effortlessly tosses the giant beast over his shoulders sends a thrill through me.

For just a few moments there, I really wondered if he were dead. But now, staring at him as power and pride emanate from his huge, naked body… I don’t know how anybody could end his life.

“What do you plan to do with it?” I ask, raising my brows at the lion.

“Her head will look fine on my wall,” he says, eyes bright as he stares down at it.

“I, erm, have another idea?” His sharp gaze moves to me, and I swallow. “If her skin is impenetrable, then you could use it as a cloak?”

He looks between us, then grabs a knife from the pile of weapons and tools on a nearby crate.

I cough. “You’ll probably need to use her own claw, to get through her skin.”

This time he throws me a glare, but throws down the knife and then does as I suggested.

When the ivory claw rips silently through the animal’s belly, Hercules roars in triumph, then meticulously severs skin from flesh, ignoring the innards and mess spilling out onto the cargo deck floor. An unexpected stab of nausea rolls through me as an image of the vibrant-haired young woman the beast used to be flashes through my mind.

Hercules stands up straight, covered in blood, pulling the removed hide with him. It’s larger than he is. I can only guess how much it weighs.

“I need to have this cleaned and beaten,” he says. “Let’s see that bitch shoot me again through this.” The last words come out as a vicious hiss. I push myself off the container I’m perched on, landing lightly on my feet as far from the pool of gore as possible.

“You need a bath. And watching you work has made me feel like one too,” I say boldly.

I know what he’ll want next. He’ll want to celebrate.

His eyes glint as he smiles hungrily at me.

“Evadne, I knew you had your uses. I’ll be in my cabin shortly. Get it ready.”

I nod coyly and make my way to the smallest hauler. I hear Hercules say behind me, “Asterion, get down here now. I need you to take this hide to town and have it prepared for me. Then clear up this mess.”

We’re still in port. There’s no need to leave in a hurry, and I wonder if Hercules will go back into town himself later tonight to parade his victory in front of the locals. I step into the hauler, and it begins to move slowly toward the middle deck.

I let out a long sigh as I picture his powerful body, wrestling with the lion as he burst from the cave. He hasn’t acknowledged my part in opening the cave mouth, and likely won’t, but I won’t bring it up. Asterion will be receiving punishment for days, and I don’t envy him. I figure it’s better to stay quiet and enjoy his victory with him. And right now, I know exactly how to make him happy.

Hercules has his rooms at the back of the ship, under the quarterdeck. They take up a third of the living quarters on the Hybris. The cabin door opens onto a grand lounge, with walls lined in deep mahogany paneling. Plush cushions soften expensive sofas that sit in a semicircle around a low wooden table. A bar, well stocked with wine and ouzo, stands against the right wall, and three huge shelves line the other. They’re packed with books, from fictional adventures to encyclopedias.

I look at the books as I pour ouzo into two crystal glasses and set them on the table. I doubt Hercules has read a single one. They’re there to impress, not to be used. I love them, though.

As a child, I spent any time I could spare escaping into the adventures of someone more fortunate than myself by reading my favorite stories. Everything I learned in my life has been taught to me through books, not real people. And they’re no poor substitute.

I raise my chin, proud, as I think about how far I’ve come and where I stand now. And how close I am to the ultimate prize. I open the wide wooden doors at the back of the living room, and the room floods with light.

Instead of having portholes to let in light, like the rest of the ship, my captain has ten-feet-tall arched windows cut into the hull. Framed in front of the bright windows is his obnoxiously lavish bed. I busy myself tucking in sheets and draping scarlet blankets artfully about until I think Hercules will be happy.

When I’m done, I start setting up the washroom, a curved white marble room off the bedroom to the left. I strip off my clothes as hot water runs loudly into the copper bath. I smile to myself the whole time. I love the luxury of these quarters. It’s what I’ve dreamed of my whole life. And my captain’s success today means that I get to spend the rest of the day in them, with him. My core tenses involuntarily as I think about it.

When things are going his way, Hercules is an incredible lover. His touch takes my breath away, his power and masculinity leaving me giddily defenseless.

I don’t dwell on being with him when he isn’t getting what he wants.

Tonight he’s happy, and that means I soon will be too. An anticipatory shiver runs through me as I dip one small foot in the hot water and I hear the door to Hercules’s chambers open.

Chapter 33

Lyssa

The silence on deck is unbearable.

We’ve left Port Galatas, and if I wanted to I could channel every bit of my Rage into the ship and blast through the skies until dawn.

But the Rage is absent.

Hollow, bitter, empty defeat is filling every part of me instead, bursting from my skin, oozing over the planks of my beloved ship.

We never had a chance.

Everything I told myself about the Alastor making a difference, all the desperate fantasies of stopping or killing Hercules before he became immortal, was a lie.

“We can’t stop him.”

Fear is so close to bubbling over. The memories are so close to taking control.

“You shot him, Lyssa.” Epizon’s low voice carries across the deck, and I press my head harder into my hands. “Nobody has ever shot Hercules before.”

“That’s true, cap,” Len says.

“And Hera made sure the whole of Olympus knows,” Lucas says. “You proved to everyone he can be harmed, captain.”

I look up slowly. The others are sitting on the planks like me, each pair of eyes fixed on mine.

“We may not have won the trial, but that’s a pretty big win, nonetheless,” Epizon says with a small smile.

I force the grisly thoughts ricocheting around my head to slow, and repeat what they just said inside my mind.

I shot him, and Hera made sure everyone watching knew it was me.

He was standing there before me, his eyes filled with murder, and I snapped.

I took my slingshot, loaded it, and fired, my entire vision red. I hadn’t thought it through, planned the attack, or actually believed I’d kill him.

I just let the fury take over, and my body followed its Rage-filled commands.

But now, everyone would know that little Lyssa in her shoddy ship had harmed the mighty Hercules.

I’d made him bleed in front of the world.

Epizon is right. That is a win, of sorts.

I push myself to my feet. “A bath and food,” I say. “That’s what we all need.”

Epizon leaps up, relief on his face, followed by Len and Lucas. Alexios gingerly picks himself up.

“See you in the galley in thirty minutes.”

“I can’t tell you how much I would give to be alone right now,” I say to Alexios as he follows me into my cabin. “But because of you, that’s not an option. Don’t speak to me.”

“Believe it or not, the feeling is mutual.” He eases himself down onto the mattress, and I’m surprised to feel a tiny stab of sympathy.

“I—” I start, then close my mouth. He closes his eyes.

“You what?”

“I did try to catch you,” I murmur.

His eyes open and he lifts his head to look at me. “Bassari is one of my best-kept secrets. I didn’t want the world to know about him,” he says eventually.

I frown. “Why not?”

He waves a hand. “Reasons.”

“Reasons like you don’t want to waste your time healing all the sick people who would seek you out if they knew about him and how powerful he his?” New annoyance rolls through me, and I actually relish it. It’s far better than the hollow defeatism, or the forced forward motion.

“No. Not reasons like that.” He closes his eyes again and drops his head on the pillow.

“Fine. If you don’t want to tell me, don’t. I’m going for a bath. Set one foot in that washroom while I’m in there, and you’ll need Bassari again.”

He doesn’t answer, so I whirl and stomp into the washroom. As I’m closing the door, I hear him speak.

“That was always his Trial to win. We’ll get the next one.”

I sigh and click the door shut.

I wash quickly, discovering that what I just said to Alexios was a lie. I don’t want to be on my own at all. I just don’t want to be with him.

I want a distraction, want Epizon’s reassurance, Len’s inane, waffling chatter.

Anything that stops the memories, and the crippling fear and doubt they carry with them, from bubbling up.

I dress in clean clothes, tie my hair back in a black scarf, and re-enter my bedchamber.

Alexios is fast asleep.

I tap his boot. “Hey. Bath and food.”

He opens his eyes, and for a heartbeat I see something new in them. Not the charming sparkle, or the clever shine, but something… real. Deep. But as they focus on me, the depth recedes to nothing.

He sits up quickly, swinging his legs over the bed. He’s moving slightly easier, and before I can say another word, he’s standing and shedding clothes.

“For the sake of Hades, can’t you wait until you’re in there to undress?”

The gleam is back in an instant. “Of course I can,” he says, then slides his trousers, and underwear, to the floor.

I spin around, in time to stop him seeing my blush. “You’re an arrogant asshole,” I mutter.

“And you’re a prude.”

“You’re trying to intimidate me, and it won’t work.”

“I’m trying to have a wash,” he says, and I hear the washroom door click.

When we enter the cramped galley almost an hour later, Len hops off his chair and trots over to me with a glass of ouzo. Alexios holds his hand out for one, and Len completely ignores him.

“To the captain!” the satyr says, and I bend to clink my glass with his. “For a truly excellent shot.”

I put the glass to my lips and tip the whole drink down my throat. It burns, and I relish the feeling. Fire moving through me is what I need. Not fear, or doubt. Fire.

“I’ve cooked stew. You hungry?”

I look gratefully at Epizon as he speaks. “Starving.”

The huge man is pulling bowls from one of the many galley cupboards and setting them on the counter. The galley is a functional area, one wall lined with everything we need to cook and eat our meals, and a table with room for six taking up the rest of the space. Epizon moves past the taller of the two ovens and heaves a battered metal pot off one of the four burner rings that tops it. The shorter oven, installed for Len, barely crests his knee.

“Grub’s up.” Epizon begins passing the bowls out to everyone around the table, and we all sit, digging in hungrily.

“Cap, I’ve got an idea,” Len announces across the galley table. I look up from my bowl and nod at him.

“Fire away,” I say, trying not to let the apprehension show on my face. I don’t want to talk about the next Trial. I don’t really want to talk at all.

“I think we need to give her access to sunlight,” he says.

I blink, unsure what he’s talking about.

“The thing in the tank. I’ve been studying her, and reading about races from the water realms, and I think she needs sunlight.”

“Okay. Then I guess we need to get her up on deck,” I say slowly, relieved he isn’t talking about the Trials, or Hercules.

“If we’re not heading off until tomorrow, I think we should do it now, while we have a breather,” Len says. “I really think we should do what we can for her.”

“If you think it will be good for her, sure. Do you want to leave her up there permanently?”

“No, no, no.” Len shakes his head emphatically as he answers. “No living creature wants constant exposure to light. Maybe let’s start with a few hours and see how she responds.”

“Agreed. We’ll finish this, and then get her tank up top.”

Chapter 34

Lyssa

Len and Lucas are on the deck to meet us, but neither says anything as we heave the tank out of the hauler and onto the planks. Alexios makes a half-assed attempt to help, but it’s unnecessary. So is Epizon’s fully committed effort. I could move the tank on my own, the focus on something else allowing my power to flood my muscles. It feels good.

The farther into the brightly colored light of the sky she gets, the slower the creature’s circles through the liquid become. When the whole tank is exposed, I step back, and Epizon and Alexios follow my lead.

The creature stills in the center of the tank. She tilts her face toward the sky, and for the first time I can’t see the vivid green of her eyes because they’re closed.

“She was in the light when we first removed the planks,” Epizon says quietly, staring at her.

“True. How long was that for?”

“Half an hour?” Len shrugs.

I sit down on the deck. “Then let’s give her an hour and see if she seems…” I’m not sure how to end the sentence, as it’s impossible to tell if she’s happy, sad, hungry, or any other emotion.

“Satisfied?” offers Len.

“Sure.”

We all sit quietly, Alexios lying on his back and apparently falling asleep immediately. The only movement visible on the deck of the motionless ship is the gently swirling clouds, pinks and purples rolling past us. It isn’t long before I follow suit, putting my hands behind my head and closing my eyes.

Len’s sharp intake of breath wakes me in an instant, and I sit bolt upright.

“Look,” the satyr whispers, pointing to the tank.

The creature’s scales are starting to change color.

“Huh. Looks like you were right—” I start, but before I can finish, pain lances through my skull.

I throw my hands to my head, screwing my eyes shut against the pain. I’m dimly aware of shouts around me, then, abruptly, the pain is gone.

I open my eyes, and find I’m no longer on the Alastor.

I look around at an opulent room from my position kneeling on the floor. It’s a large, open space, with white stone columns everywhere I look, at regular intervals. I stand cautiously and turn on the spot. All I can see, stretching in every direction, are the columns. The room is endless.

“Hello?” I call. My voice echoes back at me but I hear nothing else. I take a tentative step forward. When nothing happens, I try another.

A figure steps out from behind the closest pillar, and I gasp.

It’s Hercules, holding a fireplace poker dripping with blood.

My breath catches. The poker…

Involuntarily, I look to the floor at his feet, already knowing what I’ll see.

A form shimmers at his feet, red hair flashing in and out of focus. Tears fill my eyes as I stare down at my mother’s body.

“You’re next,” Hercules says. He smiles at me, the grin maniacal.

“Murderer!” I scream as the Rage explodes through me, replacing every other conscious thought I have.

Unarmed and barely aware of my actions, I throw myself at him.

But I never make contact with his huge frame. Instead I keep falling, the pain seeping back into my head. I shut my eyes again, trying desperately to make sense of what’s going on.

“Captain!” I hear somebody shout, and then feel hands on my shoulders. I open my eyes and look up.

I’m back, kneeling on the deck of the Alastor, the gentle clouds swirling about on either side of me. I take a huge, gasping breath, my body shaking. The hand on my shoulder tightens. I turn, expecting to see Epizon, and to my surprise see concern etched across Alexios’s face.

“What happened? Are you all right?” he asks me, his voice deep, soft.

“I don’t know what happened,” I say dazedly. “Where’s Epizon?”

“He cried out too, but”—Alexios steps to the side so I can see the huge man sprawled on the deck—“we can’t wake him,” he finishes.

I leap to my feet, the quick movement causing a wave of dizziness to roll over me, which I ignore as I move to Epizon. I crouch beside him and put my hand on his hot face. His eyes are screwed shut and his breathing is shallow.

“Len!” I call.

“He’s gone to the infirmary to get something to help,” says Alexios.

“Lucas?” I spin around, looking for the boy. He holds his hand up, pale face pinched.

“I’m fine, captain. Only you and Epizon were affected.”

“Affected?” I focus on the tank creature.

She’s glowing blue, her shimmering scales dazzling if I look at them too long, and her bright green eyes still hidden behind closed lids.

“This should do it,” Len says, trotting across the deck from the back of the ship, carrying a small black pouch. I move quickly out of his way. He pulls a small vial out, removes the tiny cork, and waves it slowly under Epizon’s nose. I watch as his eyelids twitch, holding my breath.

Epizon takes a huge, heaving breath, and I let mine out in relief as his eyelids flutter open.

“Ep, are you all right?” I ask, leaning over him.

“Tenebrae,” he says, as dazed as I was.

“What?”

“Tenebrae. That’s her name,” he says, and eases himself onto his elbows as he starts to sit up.

“Whose name?”

Epizon points at the tank. The creature’s scales are dimming, her tail is swishing back and forth, and her brilliant eyes are fixed on Epizon’s.

“Hers. She’s called Tenebrae.”

Chapter 35

Alexios

Bassari is at my side without my invitation, as I hover behind Lyssa and Epizon.

“You know what the fuck that is?” I ask him silently, casting a glance at the creature in the massive tank.

“Nope.” He trots off to stare at the thing, and I move my attention back to Epizon.

“I—” he starts, then pauses and looks meaningfully at Lyssa. “I know this might sound crazy. But I was back where I grew up. As a child.”

Lyssa blinks, but says nothing, allowing him to continue.

“There was a massive pain in my head, and then I was a child again. And I…” He looks away. “I saw things I haven’t remembered in a long time.”

Lyssa sits back on her heels and lets out a breath. “Me too,” she says quietly. “I saw Hercules, right after”—she shrugs—“you know. How do you know her name?”

“I started yelling stop.” Epizon’s deep voice carries, and Lyssa flinches at his words, before masking the reaction. These two are clearly close, and I can see the pain that his pain is causing her. Len looks away as he speaks, also uncomfortable seeing Epizon vulnerable.

Jealousy flashes through me, taking me by surprise. To have folk who care about you that much…

I push my shoulders back, focusing. This is not the time. In fact, there’s never a time. Not for pity. Not for regret. I’m here, and that’s what matters.

Epizon continues, “And then I was in a room full of columns and she was there.”

“I was in a room full of columns too,” Lyssa says. “But with… him.”

“She was hovering, right there, and I asked who she was, and she said the word Tenebrae.”

Lyssa turns to the satyr. “Len, have you ever heard of telepathic creatures like this before? Do you think it’s connected to exposing her to light?”

Len looks at the creature, who is still staring at Epizon. “No, captain. I’ve never heard of anything like this before. But yes, the light must have triggered this—surely she would have done it earlier if she could have?”

“Done… what? Do you think she’s trying to communicate? Or attack?”

We all move our gaze to the creature in the tank. Bassari, right beneath the thing, swishes his tail and cocks his head.

“And why just you two?” asks Lucas quietly.

Lyssa shakes her head. “I don’t know. She didn’t speak to me,” she says. “Until we know her intentions, I think we should get her below decks again. At least until we know she isn’t dangerous.”

Epizon looks between her and the creature, then nods.

Nobody speaks as we wheel the tank back into the hauler and down to the cargo deck. Epizon announces he is retiring to his cabin early, and Len and Lucas quickly follow suit.

“Look at them,” Lyssa says, watching the hauler take her crew away. “Off to blissful peace and privacy.” There’s venom in her voice.

“I’m sorry about your first mate,” I say.

She turns to me, usual scowl in place. “What?”

“I’m sorry he saw… whatever he saw today.”

She advances on me, quiet anger leaking from her tiny frame. “You have no right to see him like that, talk about his past, even be on this damn ship,” she snarls. “You earn the right to his friendship, his loyalty, his vulnerability, and you are a fucking fraud who has stolen access to the air that man breathes. He is so much better than you.”

“I don’t doubt it.” As much I love riling this fierce woman up, this level of anger is intimate, and I like Epizon. A lot. Plus, Lyssa was affected by the power of this Tenebrae too, and lest I forget, my life is bound to hers right now. “We’ll talk to Bassari. See if he knows anything.”

Her hard expression softens a touch. “Fine.” She folds her arms over her chest as Bassari appears between us.

“She’s pretty, and she’s wet,” he says immediately.

“Right. Got anything else? That’s actually helpful?”

“She’s telepathic.”

“I think we got that,” mumbles Lyssa.

“Can you learn anything about her?”

He shakes his tail and blinks up at me. “If you can get me one of her scales, perhaps, but I can’t see that being easy.”

Lyssa frowns. “I can try, if you think it will help?”

“I would also need equipment. Did you bring any of your lab things with you?” He directs the question at me.

“You know I didn’t.”

“Then no, it probably won’t help. Her psychic powers are strong, as her signature still lingers. But it’s not a power I’ve ever come across before, or recognize from any source. Where did she come from?”

Lyssa tells us both about Lady Lamia and the ensuing fight.

I’ve heard of Lady Lamia. If Lyssa’s recounting is true, and she doesn’t strike me as a liar, then this woman has the courage, and moral fortitude, of no other human I’ve ever met. She is truly fascinating.

“You risked your crew’s lives to rescue a non-identifiable being?” I ask her.

“They were willing,” she growls at me.

“I’m sure.”

“And I ended up with Lucas.”

She doesn’t sound upset about this. I think I get a glimpse of a softer side of her, when it comes to the skinny, pale boy.

“High price to pay for a deckhand,” I say, knowing it will annoy her. I want to push her to defend him. See if I’m right.

“What would you know about doing the right thing? With some food and freedom, and some actually decent care, he’ll make a fine crew member,” she snaps.

I grin at her, and she glares at me. “You like him.”

“Yes. He needed rescuing and he’s a good kid. Unlike you.”

“I don’t need rescuing? Or I’m not a good kid?”

She grinds her teeth, her green eyes flashing with fire. Satisfaction churns with excitement at her reaction. What is it about her that makes me want to push through all the flaming barbs and see what’s underneath?

Refusing to answer me, she looks to Bassari. “What do you think we should do with Tenebrae?”

“Keep her out of the light, until you learn how to talk to her.”

She nods. “Learn how to talk to her. Right.” She looks unsettled, and I don’t blame her. The thing’s eyes are beyond unsettling, and I wasn’t just knocked out by it.

“Speaking of talking,” Bassari says, and swishes his tail, “do you know how much of your conversation could be heard in the flame dishes?”

Lyssa’s attention snaps to me. “Shit, I forgot. I’ll ask him now.” She falls quiet, then her brows rise, then knit. “He says he’s watching it right now. No sound is shared, just visuals.”

“That’s good.”

“How are they capturing the images?”

“Iris,” I say.

“What?”

“Iris. The rainbow goddess. Also a messenger goddess. If there’s any water nearby, she can make prisms that are capable of capturing light. Which is how all living things see.”

Lyssa tries not to look interested. “Water? How much water?”

“Even a drop is enough to store images, for her.”

“You speak like you know her.”

“I do. Rather well, in fact.” I give her a deliberately inflammatory grin.

“You’re a—”

I cut off whatever insult she’s about to fling. “Well-connected young demigod who is going to make your life significantly easier,” I finish for her.

Her hands tense into fists, and for the love of Aphrodite, my cock twitches.

“If nobody can hear us, only see us, then I can say whatever the fuck I like to you,” she grinds out.

“As long as you say it with a smile on your face, and eyes full of puppy-dog love.”

“Alexios, let me make you a promise,” she says, then plasters a large, fake smile on her face. “If we survive this month, and rid Olympus of that murderous monster, I will make it my new life’s mission to ensure that you never smile again.”

I believe every word.

Chapter 36

Hedone

Ihad to work hard not to let my smile show when we watched Hera in the flame dish, announcing that Hercules had won the first Trial.

Joy spread through me like warm liquid when I saw him bloody, naked, and victorious. His intense gray eyes and his fierce power made me shiver. Not the coy, practiced shiver I often employ to charm admirers, but something uncontrolled and genuine that radiated from my very core. I long to touch him, to feel him, to kiss him. To trace the contours of muscles built not for display but for true strength. To test the roughness of his calloused hands against the softness of my skin.

I knew he would win. I was so sure of it. But I still wanted to help him.

I couldn’t do that if it meant putting my own crew at risk, though. I didn’t care if they won or lost, but I didn’t want to hurt them.

I sat for hours, trying to come up with a safe way to help him. An unexpected stab of fear for Hercules flashed through me when I watched Hera describe the flesh-eating lion, but it faded quickly. If anyone could triumph over such a monster, it would be him.

And then it hit me.

I was the only one who was awake. Who had seen Hera announce the trial. The only one who hadn’t reveled in the party and slept through dawn.

What an easy way to give my tough, strong, beautiful Hercules his head start.

All I had to do was leave my own crew sleeping, safe and sound in their beds.

Theseus wasn’t angry with me when I told him I had fallen asleep and missed the last announcement. He was never angry with me.

We’re all on the quarterdeck now, waiting for the next Trial announcement. Theseus isn’t taking any chances this time.

“It’s not ideal that he won. Not surprising, but not ideal,” he’s saying.

I look at his soft, dark hair and perfectly proportioned face. Is he as beautiful as Hercules? I feel a pull in my gut, a fleeting rush that ghosts across my senses like a half-remembered dream, instantly replaced with a burning desperation to see Hercules again.

No, I decide. Theseus is too pretty, too gentle. I need a man who can take care of me, fight for me, set my soul alight with passion.

“We’ll just have to make sure he doesn’t win the next one,” says Bellerephon. He’s sharpening arrowheads on his lap, sparks of flint flying across his leather-clad thighs. Bellerephon is bigger and more muscular than Theseus, but his eyes are not as warm and his smile not so easy. I feel the tug inside me again and focus on the thought of Hercules.

I need to help him win again. I need him to know how I feel.

“Where do you think the next Trial will be?” I ask Theseus.

He shrugs. “The only thing we know for sure is that it won’t be on Cancer.”

“Captain?” says Psyche.

We all turn. The flames in the flame dish are white and a foot high.

Bellerephon stands quickly, his arrows clattering to the ground. He ignores them and moves closer to the dish. I stand too, moving around him for a better view. The man in the blue toga materializes in the flames.

“Good day, Olympus!” he says. “Are you ready for the second Trial?”

I hold my breath.

The smiling man fades slowly, then Athena appears in the bowl. She’s wearing white, as she always does, and her blonde hair is braided in a crown around her head. The goddess smiles.

“Good day. Congratulations to the previous victors, the crew of the Hybris.” She nods. “The next Trial will be somewhat more difficult, I believe. Deep in the center of my sky realm lies a monster with three heads and a voracious appetite. It is as tall as a building and cannot listen to reason. It will kill indiscriminately and without remorse. Please, heroes of Olympus, kill this monster, the Hydra.” She bows her head again, and vanishes.

Theseus rubs his hands together as he turns and looks at us all. “Excellent,” he says.

Psyche frowns at him. “How is a massive, violent, three-headed monster excellent, captain?”

“First, we made the right choice staying in the Void. We’re closer to Libra than all the other ships. Second, Hercules will get cocky because this is another brute-strength challenge. And people make mistakes when they get cocky.”

He’s wrong, though. My Hercules won’t make mistakes. He’s going to win, and I’ll do all can to help him.

Chapter 37

Eryx

“Idon’t know why you’re prepping to leave the boat, Eryx. You shan’t be permitted to go with them, just like last time.”

The longer I spend around Busiris, the more I want to punch him in the face.

“I’m not staying here,” I growl, gripping the rear mast of the Zephyr hard enough to make my hand hurt.

“We both know you’ll do whatever the captain tells you to do,” says a smirking Busiris, the black ink that lines his eyes cracking as his face moves. He’s the same height as me, but nowhere near as muscular.

I widen my stance, my heavy boots thudding on the deck, and advance on him. I feel some grim satisfaction as the smirk falls from his face.

When the scrawny idiot thinks it’s going to come down to a fight, he’s a lot less smug.

“Just do your fucking job, and leave me alone.”

Busiris backs right up, bending to coil ropes at a safer distance from me. His gleaming gold skin catches the light, his white toga tight around his lean body.

“One pretty face was all it took, huh? And she had you wrapped around her finger,” he says after a beat. “In what world did you really believe a pretty little girl like that could be interested in an ugly brute like you?”

I pull my boot off my foot in a swift movement, and launch it exactly as he looks up from the ropes in his hands. The golden half giant howls as it connects with his cheek.

“Fuck off, Busiris.”

His taunt is true. That’s why it stings. There is no way in Zeus’s Olympus I would ever admit that aloud, but it changes nothing.

There truly is no world in which Evadne could actually be interested in me. I’m not sure anyone will ever be interested in me.

I don’t fit with the giants, or the humans. I’m scarred, battered, and penniless.

And I’m a damned fool for listening to her for even one sentence, and everyone on the ship knows it.

“I’ll throw you over myself,” Busiris hisses, then launches my boot back at me. I sidestep it easily, then yank it back onto my foot.

The other three might be able to throw me overboard, but the threat is hollow from Busiris. He angers me so much more than the loud, immature brothers on the ship. He’s sly, and I don’t trust him. But my beloved captain does, so I’ll just have to do as I’m told. As usual.

I stomp away, putting as much distance as I can between myself and my crewmates. Stopping at the other end of the rear quarterdeck, I look past the railings of the Orion. We’re approaching Libra.

It’s one of my favorite realms in Olympus. It is made up of hundreds of flat, floating islands, clustered together in a loose sphere. Even from a distance I can make out some of the larger platform-like islands that hang together around the edge of the realm.

The thudding of footsteps announces my captain’s presence, and I straighten.

“Captain, please, I—” I begin as soon as Antaeus comes into view. The twins lumber behind him.

“You’re all coming,” Antaeus booms, cutting me off. Relief washes through me, and I work not to visibly sag. “Including you, Busiris,” he bellows. The half giant appears farther down the deck, a reluctant look on his face. “We don’t need anybody on the ship this time—there will be no drop-offs.”

Antaeus leans on the reinforced metal railings beside me, and together we watch as Libra slowly gets bigger.

The Orion will likely be the last to arrive, as it’s the slowest of the four ships. A fact I’m sure will continue to be an issue if we survive to take part in more Trials.

The sky around us is becoming grayer, streaks of blue and purple rolling like corkscrews around the giant ship as it chugs toward its destination.

Antaeus’s heavy hand falls on my shoulder.

“You’ll get your chance this time, brother. Just don’t let that girl anywhere near you.” My captain speaks quietly, and I feel my back straighten.

Yes. This will be my chance. Antaeus has always believed in me, where others haven’t. Always.

I’ll show Busiris, and Evadne, that Antaeus has not misplaced his belief.

This is our Trial to win, I’m certain.

Who better to defeat a giant, three-headed monster than a crew of giants?

Chapter 38

Hercules

It’s strangely soft, the hide I removed from Gata. I turn it over in my hands, the feeling sending something delicious flowing through my body.

Since having a tanner on Cancer fashion it into a long cloak, I’ve been testing it with everything I have at my disposal on the ship. I’ve so far found nothing that can penetrate it. It will serve me well against a three-headed beast. I lift a glass of ouzo to my lips and lean back into my seat.

“Captain?” a gruff voice rings in my head.

“I asked not to be disturbed until we reach Libra,” I say quietly.

“We’re one hour away.”

“Asterion, if you value all parts of your anatomy, do not bother me again until we are ten minutes away,” I growl to the Minotaur.

“Yes, captain.”

He’s trying too hard to recover his standing after making such a fool of himself on Cancer. A Minotaur should not be so thoroughly beaten by a bunch of dim-witted giants, and I’m in no hurry to let him forget that. As I raise my glass once more, an intensely bright light fills my vision. I swear and turn my face away, closing my eyes tight.

“You won’t be the first one there, you know,” booms a voice. I turn back.

“Hello, Father. I thought I’d see you sooner after my victory. Ouzo?” I gesture my glass at Zeus.

“Your victory?” the lord of the gods replies. He has made himself a foot taller than me, and is sporting his usual cropped beard and dark hair. His eyes are violet as they flash, his eyebrows knitting together. “You call being shot by a girl half your size a victory?”

Indignation fills me, and without thought, I slam my glass down on the table. “I won! I won the first Trial! How is that not a victory?”

The purple energy rolling off Zeus crackles, and I can smell the tang of electricity in the air. His eyes lock on mine, and I’m unable to look away. Power rolls over him, and my knee slowly begins to bend of its own volition. No, of Zeus’s volition.

Losing your temper with any god is unwise. Losing your temper with Zeus is downright foolish. And I am no fool. “Forgive me, Father,” I grind out.

My knee straightens, but the power still pins me.

“You know as well as I do, the risks I take in coming here. Do not test me. You put on a pitiful display in the last Trial. You were blindly seduced by the beast herself, lost in a cave until that girl of yours freed you, and then shot by your own daughter. You may have won the Trial, but you have not won anyone’s respect.”

Zeus’s words smash into me one after the other like physical blows, and my face heats.

“What do you mean, freed me? I had everything under control the entire time! And Lyssa shot me after I had killed the beast, in an act of cowardice,” I spit.

“She shouldn’t have shot you at all,” my father says. “If you were a better hero, she would not have been able to. And the girl on your crew, Evadne, convinced one of the giants to remove the tree blocking the cave for you. If she hadn’t, you’d probably still be in there.” He glares at me, and I do everything I can not to glare back. But fury is ricocheting through me.

“I could have gotten out of the cave myself,” I say quietly.

“Whilst fighting a man-eating lion? I doubt that very much. Listen to me. As I don’t trust you to cope without it, I am bringing you something to help you.”

The god holds his hand out in front of him, and purple lightning begins to roll and race around his forearm. It builds, crackling and pulsing, racing faster and faster until Zeus flicks his wrist hard.

The lightning shoots down his arm to his hand, solidifying in an instant in the form of a massive sword.

I stare, transfixed. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

Other than Hedone, perhaps.

Zeus holds it out to me, and I take it greedily. It’s as tall as most men, the handle smooth glass and the blade gleaming silver. A lightning bolt is carved into the clear hilt.

“She is called Keravnos. You must tell nobody I gave her to you, though most will guess. Say you found it somewhere on Leo before the Trials began. You should not be challenged.”

I swing the sword slowly, testing its weight.

“The handle is made from diamond. It will never break or shatter. And it has the same magic as your ship. She will respond to your thoughts and absorb your power. With her, you should be unstoppable.”

“Thank you, Father,” I breathe.

“Thank me by not making such a mess this time. And wear that lion skin, always,” Zeus says, then vanishes.

Bitterness at my father’s harsh words wars with the delight of wielding the incredible weapon in my hands. I tentatively reach out with my strength, in the same way I control the Hybris.

The blade thrums to life, a deep red glow forming around it. It feels lighter and I swing it easily toward the cushions on the opposite armchair. Without a hint of resistance, Keravnos cleaves the entire chair in two.

I pull the blade up in surprise, then begin to laugh.

With this, I really will be unstoppable. And I will prove to my father that I can win the respect of all of Olympus, without any help at all.

“But captain—”

I cut Evadne off with a wave of my hand, moving to the railing to see Libra growing as we speed closer.

“I have made my decision. Go and get me my boots. We are arriving momentarily.” When she doesn’t reply, I turn back to look at her. She’s clenching her lips together. “I said, go and get my boots.”

“Captain, I don’t think you realize how much Asterion and I can help you,” Evadne says, her voice painfully measured. She holds out her hands as she speaks.

Annoyance begins to prick at me. Evadne was so helpful, so compliant, last night. I don’t want to get angry with her now, but she’s choosing to ignore me.

“I will not tell you again. I am doing this Trial alone. That is final. Go and get my boots.” I speak slowly, my voice low and laced with the danger I want her to hear.

Evadne drops her eyes to the floor and takes a long breath. “I think you are making a mistake,” she says.

I tense. “What did you say?”

She looks up at me. “I said I think you are making a mistake. Athena is the goddess of warfare and strategy—she would never design a Trial that could be beaten by one person alone. It’s not how she works.”

Anger rolls through me. This girl thinks so much of herself and so little of me? I step toward her, but she holds both her ground and my gaze. That angers me even more than her words.

“You saw what I did to the lion, yes?” I hiss.

Evadne nods.

“You are aware that I am imbued with the strength of the lord of the gods himself, yes?”

“A Trial set by Athena will require more than stren—”

I strike her across the face, and she stumbles backward with a yelp.

“You should be grateful for this demonstration of my control,” I spit. “I could knock your head from your shoulders if I wished. This is the perfect Trial to prove to the world that I am their true hero, and that the mighty Hercules needs nobody to help him.”

Evadne stares up at me, her hand on her reddening cheek. I can see the anger in her eyes, but now it excites me. I want her to defy me. I want to push her further.

I step toward her and bend so my face is close to hers. “Do you wish to challenge me?” I breathe.

“No, captain,” she mumbles. Slight disappointment mingles with satisfaction as I step back.

“Go and get my boots,” I say.

“Yes, captain,” the girl replies sullenly.

Chapter 39

Lyssa

Libra is the place I most consider my home after the Alastor. It’s where I sought refuge when I so desperately needed it, it’s where I found Epizon, and it’s where I found my ship. It’s a tough place, but mostly a fair one.

I’m not exactly excited to be returning, but my confidence is higher than it might be elsewhere as we glide alongside a long metal pier.

It shudders as Epizon leaps down from the deck of the ship first. He’s wearing his big coat and has his giant knife strapped to his leg. I haven’t commented on his attire this time. I rub the back of my neck as I watch Len scramble over the railing, his hooves clicking on the metal as he lands. He insisted on coming, but I really hope we won’t need a medic.

“Captain.” Lucas nods to me as he scrambles after the other two. Letting him come is perhaps a risk, but he’s keen to prove himself, and honestly—if I’ve let him come this far, who am I to stop him?

“Ladies first,” says Alexios from behind me, then offers his hand to help me over the railing. I roll my eyes, put one hand on the wooden bar, and vault easily over it. I barely make a sound as my boots land on the pier.

“Right,” he says, and throws his own leg over the railing. “I won’t try to be civil again, then.”

“I’m a woman, not an invalid,” I mutter.

“And I’m just trying to be well mannered, unlike you.” He drops down beside me. “And put on a show.”

“You’re ruining my homecoming,” I snap, before remembering to give him a shit-eating smile, and then turning away from him.

The pier juts out a long way from the mass of islands that make up Libra, and I take a beat to enjoy how surreal standing at the end feels.

Ahead of me is a churning mass of activity, glass haulers zipping up and down between the islands, figures hurrying across the intricate glass bridges that link them, the thin, flat islands themselves filled with curved buildings and tall trees. But behind me and the ship, there’s nothing but sky, just blue and violet streaks breaking up the gentle gray clouds. There’s a serenity in it that calms the constant hum of energy simmering inside me.

“Do you know where we have to go?” Len asks as we reach him, standing at the other end of the pier.

A breathtakingly delicate glass bridge with railings carved in ancient patterns connects the end of the pier to an island that houses three single-story buildings. They’re made from white stone and are decorated in swirling metal fingers that wrap around the buildings, making odd geometric shapes.

One of the buildings looks like a tavern, with people sitting at small, angular tables in front of the windows. Not all the buildings on Libra are so beautiful. The islands around the outside have the most extravagant architecture, to go with the incredible views of the skies. But the farther into the cluster of islands you get, the thicker the mist grows and the less wealthy the residents become.

“Athena said the monster was deep in the center of Libra. I’ve been in pretty far, but never to the core. How about you, Epizon?”

“No, I just went in as far in as the missionaries took food.” Athena is the only goddess in Olympus who will feed anybody who works, and my first mate lived on the inner islands of Athena’s realm far longer than I did, building the luxurious homes on the outer islands in return for meals.

“I guess we go as far in as we can and work it out from there. Do you think we could be the first ones here?”

“I don’t think so, cap. Theseus and the Virtus will have been closer if they stayed in the Void,” says Len, almost jogging to keep up.

“Huh. Then let’s hope they didn’t.”

There’s no way you can spend time on Libra if you have a fear of heights. It’s impossible to move between islands without looking down to see the endless skies of Olympus below you.

We cross the first bridge and make our way between the buildings to where a glass hauler stands open, attached to a long, thin metal rod that runs up to the island above us. Nobody pays us any attention, to my relief. We need to move quickly, and Len is not good at avoiding distractions. I was never able to memorize all of the islands, but I do know that we have to go up from here before we find some islands that will take us farther into the cluster.

We walk past a long white stone building three or four times the size of the structures on the previous island. It has a huge image of a serpent twisted around a staff painted by every doorway, and I can smell the sharp tang of alcohol as we pass.

“I worked in a medical infirmary like that once,” says Len. “But it wasn’t as big as this one.”

“Oh yeah? How’d you like it?” asks Lucas.

“Too busy. Too many people. Too much work,” the satyr answers, shaking his head slightly.

“Was it here on Libra?” I ask.

“No. No, Libra would be even busier.”

“Well, personally, I’m glad you don’t get much work on the Alastor,” says Epizon, glancing back.

“That makes two of us,” I mutter.

We have to take three more haulers up before we find a bridge heading toward the inner islands. The homes on each island become progressively bigger as we move up. On one island I see a three-story building with long balconies that wrap around all the floors, with a satisfying mix of angles and curves everywhere I look. The iron fingers curl around the stone and the windows, making the building look as though it’s trying to protect itself. Immaculate gardens with tall, tidy trees surround the house, running all the way to the island’s edge, where a large longboat with a sail that looks almost too white is docked.

“Fancy living there, do you?” says Alexios, coming to a stop beside me as I breathe in the smell of the tiny yellow flowers lining the garden fence.

“Not a chance,” I say, snorting. When I first came to Libra, I was jealous of the people who lived in these lavish homes, with a view of the unending skies and a way out whenever they liked. Now, though, I know I’m the lucky one. Nothing compares to living on the Alastor.

“Yeah, I can’t really see you shacked up in a home with bars on it,” he says.

“You can’t?”

He smiles at me. “No, my darling. You’ll live in the skies your whole life. Of that, I’m sure.”

Annoyed he’s gotten me so right, I smile back. “And thanks to you, that will probably only be a matter of days.”

He leans forward and gives me a peck on the cheek. He smells infuriatingly like my favorite soap. “Don’t worry. Bassari and I will look after you.”

I pull my hands tight to my sides as he withdraws from my personal space. “I do not need you to look after me,” I grind out.

“I know. I also know how much it annoys you when I act like you do.” He’s beaming, and to anyone watching it likely does look like he’s having a great time.

“Gods above, I hate you.”

“Come on, my love.” He heads toward the bridge after the others.

I force my tense body to relax and follow.

“Why must she make them all glass?” he says, looking reluctantly at the see-through crossing.

“Are you scared of heights?”

“No. But I’m not crazy about them. I usually use a longboat to get around Libra.”

The reminder of his privilege saps any accidental sympathy, and I give him one of my big, fake smiles. “Do you want to hold my hand?” I ask, in a baby voice.

Annoyingly, he grins back, then grabs my outstretched fingers. “You’re so good to me, darling.”

“Shit,” I mutter, then march across the bridge, a now-smug Alexios in tow.

The islands begin to change as we move farther into Libra. There are fewer white stone buildings and more temporary-looking metal ones. The green grass and luscious plants are sparser and the mist thickens. It’s as if the color is slowly draining from our surroundings. The only constants are the beautiful bridges and the glass haulers. There are more people, too, of many different races. Most move busily and purposefully between islands and in and out of buildings, but a few look bored and mean. A Minotaur leaning on the side of a long, low building that might once have been white calls gruffly to us, and Lucas jumps. A woman with long blonde hair wearing a very short toga steps out from behind him.

“Dice? We’ve got a great prize today,” she says, her voice low and sultry. Len slows. “Today only. Strawberries.”

The satyr stops completely. “Captain, she said strawberries,” he breathes.

“Len, no way. We don’t have time for dice,” I reply, looking back at him without stopping.

“Well, you probably don’t need me. I could stay here and win some strawberries.”

I sigh and stop walking. “Len, you know we don’t have time for this. And we wouldn’t be stopping to gamble even if we weren’t in a hurry. Come on!”

“Satyrs were created by the god Pan, and he is famous for his luck! If Pan can gamble, I can too.” He nods and turns toward the woman. “I’m in,” he says.

“Len! Seriously? I can’t leave you here!” Anger courses through me. What does the idiot think he’s doing, playing dice now? “Epizon, get him,” I say, turning to my first mate.

“Well, we could just play one quick game,” he says, shrugging. I gape at him.

“Sorry, sweetheart. Some boys just can’t resist a good deal,” says the blonde with a wink. “Are you sure you don’t fancy one game?” she says temptingly.

I feel a pull in my gut and take a step toward the building. We probably do have time for one game. How long does it take to throw a couple of dice? And I do love strawberries, all juicy and red and sweet. I can’t remember the last time I ate one. For a moment I think I can smell them, and my lips part a little in anticipation.

The blonde woman’s smile widens and the Minotaur grunts a laugh. The laugh filters slowly through the haze of strawberries, followed by Alexios’s deep, clear voice.

“Not today, love. But I do appreciate your powers of persuasion. I haven’t met a siren in a little while, and you are truly lovely.”

“Shit,” I say, my anger redoubling and replacing the desire to play. “Len!” I move quickly, yanking him back by the collar of his small shirt.

“But cap—”

I ignore him, keeping hold as I reach out and catch Lucas’s arm.

Alexios has moved with me and is steering Epizon’s huge shoulders away from the entrance to the building. Epizon allows him to, a slight look of confusion on his face.

The woman smiles at us. “Fair play to you,” she says as I half drag the protesting Len away, Alexios now steering the other two. “Few and far between are those who can resist the call of a siren.”

“She’s right, you know,” I say to Alexios when we’re out of earshot. Len is still babbling about the luck of Pan, and Epizon is looking a little sheepish as he strides ahead of us. “How did you resist her?”

He gives me a sideways look. “Sheer, glorious willpower,” he says, then grins. Honestly, I don’t know how anyone in this world can flash their teeth and… sparkle as often as this infuriating idiot does.

“Horseshit.”

“Yeah. I can’t. But Bassari can.” I roll my eyes. “Maybe you should thank me, publicly and lavishly,” he says, raising his eyebrows at me suggestively.

I turn to him with a smile. “I’m eternally grateful,” I say. He beams back. “For your fox.”

The smile dips, then he shrugs. “I’ll take it.”

Truth is, though, I am grateful for the fox. The gods alone knew how long we’d have spent in the gambling hall if it weren’t for Bassari.

Chapter 40

Lyssa

We carry on farther and farther, much deeper into Libra than I’ve ever been before. Even less of the light from the pale gray skies filters through the mist, and the islands we travel across grow darker. Len looks around nervously as he trots ahead of me, at the metal lean-tos, discarded debris, and people hunched around small fires.

Epizon’s languid strides have become more tense. The trickle of adrenaline in my veins quickens. Lucas seems unaware of any feeling of danger, but Alexios is grinning less as he looks around in the gloom at the heaps of rags and pitiful clusters of belongings people are defending.

I feel a pang of guilt as I remember how I lived before I came to Libra. In a gilded mansion. I wasn’t aware of poverty in Olympus until I saw it myself. I swallow hard. If I’m being honest, there’s a lot I wasn’t aware of until I sailed the skies on the Alastor.

“Captain, there are no more bridges,” says Epizon. He’s stopped at the end of the island and is staring into the empty blackness ahead. The darkness seems to have swallowed the mist.

“There must be,” I say.

“Nope. Just dark,” says Len.

“Well, how in Hades do we get into the middle then?” I put my hands on my hips, anger simmering.

“Longboat?” says Alexios.

I spin to him. “Do you see a longboat here?”

“Wait, cap, there is a bridge here,” calls Len. We all turn to him. He’s crouched by the edge of the island. “It’s got no rail, and it’s not very big, but it is there.” He stands and hesitantly puts one foot over the edge of the island. Epizon moves quickly, his hand hovering above the satyr. I hear Len’s hoof make contact with glass. He smiles. “Yep, it’s here.” He steps out with his other leg. It looks like he’s suspended over complete nothingness.

“I can’t see it,” says Lucas, peering hard at Len’s feet. I walk to the edge and kneel, then put my hands out, feeling for the glass Len is now standing on. My hands run over the cool surface.

“How can you see it and we can’t?” I ask.

“I’m a different species than all of you,” he replies. “Humans can hardly see anything.”

“Hey,” Lucas protests.

“Don’t take it personally,” Epizon advises.

“How do we know we won’t walk off the side?” I ask, standing back up.

“I’ll go first.” Len shrugs and begins walking out over the abyss. Epizon steps onto the invisible bridge without hesitation and follows him. Lucas looks at me.

“Well,” says Alexios, “he’s got big balls for a small creature.”

“Huh,” I say, for once inclined to agree.

It’s one thing not to be scared of heights. It’s quite another to step onto an invisible bridge leagues high, leading into pitch blackness, in pursuit of a giant, three-headed monster.

My skin fizzes with adrenaline. I flex my hands.

I am no longer the girl who ran.

The thought buoys me, but my breath still catches as I lower my boot, sure for a beat that it will just keep moving through the empty sky. But it doesn’t. There’s a reassuring tap as I make contact with the bridge. I look up to where Epizon’s bulk is just visible ahead and step forward with my other leg.

“Captain?”

I plaster a reassuring look onto my face and turn to Lucas. His face isn’t exactly showing panic, but his eyes are wide and he’s tentatively holding out one hand. Begrudging respect for this kid’s courage floods me.

“Hold the back of my shirt, stay straight, and for the love of Zeus, do not drag me with you if you fall,” I tell him.

He nods quickly, then reaches for my shirt and grabs a fistful of fabric before gingerly placing his foot on the invisible glass.

“I’ll take the rear, then,” I hear Alexios mutter.

“You do that.”

I turn back, fix my eyes on the now-almost-invisible Epizon, and start putting one foot in front of the other.

Once I’m moving, I don’t dare stop. And I don’t dare look down.

Nor do I look back at Lucas or Alexios, though I can feel the kid’s tight grip on my shirt. I keep my eyes on Epizon’s back and keep walking steadily forward, breathing slowly.

“Captain, it’s getting lighter,” calls Epizon after a few minutes.

“Good,” I yell back. Ahead of me, a swirling gray fog is starting to take shape, framing Epizon’s figure.

“There’s another island,” he calls. Relief washes through me and I squash the urge to thank the gods.

“Good,” I call again instead. A few seconds later I can see the edges of the new island forming through the fog, and the inky darkness doesn’t feel so crushing. As I reach the island I risk a look down and sag when I see soil beneath my feet. I speed up, spurred by the hard, safe ground.

“Thank the gods,” I hear Lucas say, then the tight grip behind me loosens.

“Epizon, Len, wait for us there,” I shout, only just able to see my first mate ahead of me now through the thickening fog. I wave my arm through the gently swirling haze and something crashes into me. I cry out in surprise and stumble to my knees.

“Oops,” comes Alexios’s voice. I push myself to my feet quickly and bat his hands away as he tries to help me straighten.

“You’re a colossal idiot,” I hiss, then squeak in surprise as he pulls me into him.

“I was worried about you there, darling,” he says loudly, then whispers, “Madly in love, remember?”

I force myself to wrap my arms around him, and feel his heartbeat, fast and hard. No wonder, really. Mine is too.

I scowl into his chest, before pushing him off and trying to concentrate.

“Where are Epizon and Len?”

“There,” says Lucas, and points. I can just make out Epizon’s large form next to Len’s much smaller one.

“I think we’re in some sort of canyon,” whispers Len when we reach them. I look around and see he’s right. If I watch long enough, I can see high black rock faces in the gaps in the swirling fog a few feet away on either side.

“How high do you think they go?” I’m whispering too. Speaking normally doesn’t seem appropriate in the eerily silent fog.

“No idea, cap.” He shrugs. “I can’t see through the fog any better than you.”

“Then we carry on through the canyon, I guess.”

The rocky banks stretch up endlessly as we walk cautiously between them. Sparse clumps of boulders dot our route, coming into view only as we’re right beside them, until the path opens out suddenly. I look from side to side, squinting to see the banks, but they’re gone. We’ve come out of the other side of the canyon.

“There’s movement ahead of us,” Len whispers. Epizon silently pulls his knife from its sheath.

We creep forward. I can make out a red light, dancing high in the mist, then more lights appear, six in total, all floating high ahead. Fireflies, perhaps?

The fog lifts from the ground as we get farther from the canyon, and I see that we’re approaching the edge of a swamp.

Something huge and dark moves, and I stop abruptly. In my peripheral vision I see the others do the same. A long, low rumble begins and the hair on my arms stands up.

“Captain?” whispers Len. The rumble grows and grows, and within seconds it becomes a screeching roar.

“Get back!” I shout, as the smell of sulfur wafts across me. “Everyone, get back from the swamp!”

I’ve barely finished the sentence when the screeching cuts off and a serpent head the size of Epizon shoots through the mist toward us.

I drop to the ground, rolling to one side and springing back to my feet. I look around wildly, registering Lucas and Epizon sprinting away from the swamp, Len clinging to Epizon’s back.

The thing swings toward me, its long neck disappearing into the swamp behind it, and I freeze.

It hisses and moves its head slowly from side to side. I stay still, praying to Athena that it can’t see me if I don’t move, and that Alexios, wherever he is, is doing the same.

The creature opens massive jaws, exactly like a snake would, and an enormous black tongue flicks between rows of lethally sharp teeth almost as tall as I am. I take a deep breath and hold it.

A mane of black, spiky horns frame the back of the creature’s head and long, writhing tendrils hang under its jaw, skimming the ground, tickling the earth.

I ease back a step, my skin crackling with energy. The creature freezes, then in a flash faces me, its scarlet eyes boring into mine. They weren’t fireflies. They’re eyes. Six eyes.

The monster screeches and lunges for me.

I run straight toward it, ducking under its jaw and racing through the slimy tentacles, guessing that the serpent will expect me to go in the opposite direction.

Please, gods, say Alexios has followed.

The smell of sulfur is so strong that it almost knocks me off balance as I skim near the edge of the swamp. I swerve, heading inland as I burst out of the mass of tendrils. There’s a masculine roar, and I’m sure it’s Alexios’s. I risk turning, and stumble. Alexios crashes into me, legs powering him away from the monster.

“Move!” he bellows.

I do, my heart pounding in my chest, as two more winding necks, their flashing red eyes visible in the mist above, rise from the swamp.

The Hydra

The Hydra’s body was huge and it had numerous heads, most mortal but one immortal. Hercules found the Hydra on a hill near the springs of the Amymone. He forced it to show itself and grabbed it, but the Hydra was able to wind itself around him. Hercules tried to smash its heads with his club, but every head he killed was replaced by two more. A huge crab came up from the swamp to aid the Hydra and bit Hercules’s foot.

EXCERPT FROM

The Library by Apollodorus Written 300-100 B.C.

Paraphrased by Eliza Raine

Chapter 41

Hercules

Ibreathe out slowly as I approach the swamp. The Hydra is an utterly magnificent beast to behold.

Its huge body is mostly ensconced in the inky-black pool, and three necks the size of tree trunks wind up out of it. They’re covered in interlocking scales that shine like metal when they move, catching what little light filters through the mist in dazzling flashes. One snakelike head, with a ring of fierce horns projecting from behind the skull, is low to the ground at one edge of the swamp. Its massive jaws are open, revealing rows of teeth like sword blades, and I can hear the hissing from here. I guess the Hydra has found my daughter.

I wonder briefly what my father would think of my following Lyssa and her crew to the Hydra. It was a tactical decision, not a necessity. If that pathetic little satyr found the bridge, I would have too, I’m sure. And my being behind them means that I have all the distractions I need for the monster, with the added bonus that it might finish my interfering daughter off for me.

The thought brings a smile to my face. How fitting would it be if she died here, in Athena’s realm? The goddess who gave her shelter when she escaped me, and I strongly suspect will be backing her now.

I don’t believe it was a coincidence that she was selected from the urn. My own daughter the fourth hero, when she’s done nothing of note her entire miserable life?

No. Either Athena or Hera had a hand in her place here, or somebody sympathetic to me wanted to give me an opportunity to finish what I started all those years ago.

Red hair, bloody, pale skin, and screaming flash through my mind, briefly replacing the reality in front of me.

I snarl as I shake my head to clear it. Enough of the past. I must be in the present, and my actions now will undoubtedly shape my future. My eternal future.

I run for the opposite side of the swamp, keeping low to the ground. My lion-skin cloak ripples behind me, the weight of it reassuring. Nothing can penetrate this hide. I’m practically invincible. I watch the two unoccupied heads, only discernible in the thicker mist by the shining red eyes.

I slow as I reach the bank, my boots sinking slightly into the soft earth at the water’s edge. The smell of sulfur is overwhelming here, mixed with something organic and rotting. The swamp water is perfectly still, black and reflecting nothing. Excitement rolls through me, a familiar heat in my chest and limbs. This is what I was born for. Strength against strength.

I need no time to get my breath back; I’m used to exerting myself. Without taking my eyes off the red orbs above, I move my hands to the scabbard at my belt. My fingers close around the diamond hilt and a crystal-clear ringing sounds as I pull the shining silver sword from its sheath.

The sound carries across the swamp like a bell, and instantly the two heads moving slowly in the mist above me freeze. The third head, still occupied with Lyssa and her crew, continues its attack, but these two are mine now.

I smile and hold the mighty weapon in front of me in both hands, feeling its perfect balance. Keravnos. The name means thunderbolt, and that’s exactly what it feels like in my hands. An extension of my own power, my own will. I flex my wrists to the right, then left, testing the weight of the sword. It’s perfect.

The heads descend from the mist. Two gaping maws appear either side of me, each large enough to swallow a horse whole. Brutal teeth gnash the air, clicking together with sounds like breaking stone, and writhing tentacles dangle and twist, sensing the air between us.

My god-given strength surges through me, and I grip the sword harder, channeling my power into it. The connection forms immediately, a rush of energy flowing from my body into the weapon. The sword begins to glow red, pulsing with my heartbeat, growing brighter and brighter.

A bark of laughter escapes. I can’t help it. This feeling, this moment before the violence begins… It’s intoxicating. The Hydra heads hiss in response, a sound that’s almost mechanical, like steam escaping from a forge. I feel the vibration in my bones, in my teeth, in the cells of my body.

The heads draw back, coiling like serpents about to strike. I plant my feet, adjusting my stance. The lion-skin cloak settles around my shoulders. Keravnos blazes in my hands.

This is going to be fun.

Chapter 42

Hedone

Even the acrid smell of sulfur is barely registering as I watch Hercules, utterly transfixed. He looks like a living god as holds the colossal, glowing red sword in front of him. He doesn’t flinch as the monster approaches. In fact, he seems to grow.

His perfect frame is clad in the lion skin.

My breath catches as the beast hisses and Hercules raises the sword. The head on the right darts down, and the one on the left moves above him. He swings the sword in an arc high over his head, warding off the tongue that shoots out from above, and then brings the blade crashing down on the other neck.

There’s a loud clank as the weapon makes contact.

Hercules falters, and Theseus draws in breath next to me.

“Was that…” he murmurs, frowning and squinting through the gloom.

“Metal?” finishes Psyche, standing on his other side.

We’re far enough out of the canyon that the mist has lifted, but we’re still well away from the swamp. Theseus is not a man who rushes into a situation without a plan.

“He’s doing well,” observes Psyche. Pride wells in me, though I know I have no right to it.

“Yes,” answers Theseus, still quiet. “That’s quite a weapon. It’s called Keravnos, and Aphrodite was worried that Zeus would hand it over to him at some point.” I watch the glowing sword as it moves with Hercules, rolling and swiping and clashing as the two serpentine heads draw back and snap forward again and again.

He’s magnificent, a being of sheer strength and power and force. Just imagining being his to protect makes my heart swell painfully.

Suddenly, he’s still, crouched low to the ground, and cold clutches at me in place of the longing.

Is he injured? I crane my neck forward, trying to see more. One of the horn-rimmed heads lowers fast, the strange tendrils hanging from its jaw writhing as they near the ground.

“I think the tendrils are like a cat’s whiskers—they feel for things its eyes cannot see,” Theseus muses. “Interesting.”

With a burst of energy that makes me jump, Hercules launches himself upward, higher than the creature’s head. As he leaps over its shining neck, he brings his blade down. The red glow intensifies as it makes contact with the scales, and an even louder clang rings across the swamp. Then the blade is sinking through the beast’s neck, and I can just hear the triumphant roar coming from Hercules as he lands hard on the ground.

The sword has gone clean through, and the totally severed head rolls across the ground.

I can make out his smile as he lifts a booted foot and kicks the head toward the swamp. The red light in the serpent’s eyes fades as it rolls toward the inky liquid.

“It is metal!” exclaims Psyche, pointing. The exposed stump of the creature’s neck is flailing around, bashing into the roaring second head, and I can clearly see that there’s no blood, just silver metal that’s glowing an icy blue. The third head, previously out of sight on the other side of the swamp, appears high above Hercules. He raises Keravnos in challenge.

But neither of the two remaining heads attack.

They both rise, high into the mist, their necks extended. The red eyes glow and the roaring quiets as the flailing neck slows down. The blue glow doesn’t dim, though. If anything, it’s getting brighter.

“I don’t like this,” says Theseus. I’m standing shoulder to shoulder with him, and I can feel him tense. “That light should be dying, not getting brighter. If this is one of Hephaestus’s automatons, given life by Athena, then this will not be simple.”

Anxiety grips me as Hercules bellows, “Do you fear me?” His roar fills the air, and he shakes his great sword at the two remaining heads.

The blue light is suddenly bright, so bright I have to look away. When I turn back, the metal scales on the severed neck are multiplying. They’re building on themselves, clinking as they interlock, rebuilding the neck that has been removed.

I gasp as I realize that it’s not just the severed head that is re-forming. The neck is splitting into two as it grows.

Horns are materializing before my eyes, shiny liquid metal hardening into brutal points as I watch. The snakelike head is next, the slimy-looking tendrils growing from its jaw as the vicious teeth take shape.

In under a minute, two newly formed Hydra heads rise to meet their siblings in the mist, red eyes glowing bright.

“Shit,” breathes Psyche.

“Yeah,” says Theseus.

I can’t speak. I have to help Hercules.

Chapter 43

Eryx

I’ve never been more relieved in my life than when I step off the invisible bridge and onto solid ground.

I don’t care that I can barely see through the thick white fog, or that I can still hear Albion whimpering behind me. As long as I’m off that infernal bridge, anything else will be easy.

The only part of this Trial I’ve enjoyed so far is seeing Busiris forced to part with some silver. It was the only way to encourage a homeless boy who had seen the other crews make it to the center of Libra tell us how to do it.

My eyes are fixed on my captain ahead of me as we walk, and I let deep, calming breaths of air fill my lungs. My racing heart slows.

Tall, dark rock banks rise up on either side of us, funneling us through the mist, and I don’t like how penned in we are, or the distinct feeling that we’re being led into a trap. It’s messing with the calm I’m trying to force. The unforgiving rock looks un-scalable, and there’s no way of getting back over that bridge in a hurry.

My nerves hum and I bounce as I walk, pent-up energy for whatever is coming rocketing around inside me.

I might see her again today.

The thought has barely registered before I scold myself. Why in Hades is that blue-haired witch in my mind? She made a fool of me, and nothing will allow her the chance to do it again.

For a minute, my mental scolding works.

But then her face flashes into my head again.

I know her intentions were insincere, but gods does she have courage.

Selfish, deceitful ambitions! That’s what she has! Not courage.

A flash of blue light through the fog mercifully snaps me out of my zigzagging thoughts. I speed up until I’m abreast of Antaeus.

“What was that?” I ask quietly.

He doesn’t look at me, gaze fixed ahead. “I don’t know.”

We pick up our pace and in moments have cleared the canyon, the fog lifting and a great swamp visible before us.

Hercules is holding a huge sword, a weapon that looks like it was built for a giant rather than a human, and it’s glowing red as he slashes and twirls and leaps out of the way of at least a dozen terrifyingly massive serpent heads.

Long necks look as though they’re tangling with each other as they move, almost impossible to discern from each other, and I think of Antaeus’s writhing snake tattoo. There’s another blue flash, and I watch, amazed, as a severed snake head drops into the black swamp with a huge splash.

The severed stump is the source of the blue glow, and what looks like liquid metal begins to flow, forming a new head. No, two new heads, I realize with a start.

An orange light catches my eye on my right. Theseus, along with the two women from his crew, are near the canyon entrance. He has an arrow nocked in a bow, orange flames flickering at the arrow tip. The beautiful, dark-haired woman, Hedone, tugs at his arm, shaking her head. Theseus ignores her and lets the arrow fly.

“Hercules!” screams Hedone. I look toward the massive man as the arrow strikes. It bounces harmlessly off what I’m fairly sure is a lion hide, and he rolls under a writhing mass of necks. The beast’s heads snap at each other.

“Stop cutting off heads, you fool,” shouts Theseus, shaking his head. “He’s going to get us all killed. We need a plan—come on!” He drops his bow to his side and jogs toward the canyon mouth. He slows when he sees us.

“Leaving so soon, clever Theseus?” Antaeus says. Theseus says nothing, just picks up his pace again. The older woman scowls at the swamp, and then sets off after him, her legs fast. The gorgeous Hedone flicks her head between the swamp and her captain, clearly unsure what to do.

I turn back to watch Hercules fight, my hands clenched into fists. The man is laughing as he carves through the Hydra’s necks, and I scowl. Does he not realize he’s only making it stronger?

“Theseus is right,” Antaeus rumbles beside me. “If that imbecile keeps slicing through necks, he’ll get us all killed. Eryx, stay here with Busiris. Albion, Bergion, with me.”

My jaw clenches. “Captain, I can—”

“That’s an order.” His tone is unwavering, and I clamp my mouth shut.

I watch, burning with frustration, as my captain and the twins move cautiously toward the swamp’s edge. This is my punishment for being tricked by that girl. I’m still being left behind like dead weight.

Busiris steps up beside me, his gold skin gleaming in the firelight from the swamp. His eyes are fixed on the Hydra, but they’re not awe-or fear-filled. He’s studying it.

“It’s an automaton,” he says.

“No shit.”

He gives me a sideways scowl. “That means there’s a way to disable it.”

“Like an off switch?”

“Perhaps.”

I stare at the mass of heads, trying to look for anything that could help. It’s tough to stay focused as Albion launches himself at one of the necks and then wraps himself around it, long legs just meeting on the other side. Bergion is trying to do the same, while Antaeus is scouting for huge boulders on the ground and launching them at the heads trying to pick off the twins.

“I can’t see anything,” I say eventually.

“It’s not going to be a big lever,” Busiris snarls. “It’ll be something sophisticated. Subtle.”

I go back to squinting. Albion is now halfway up the neck, batting at other heads with his barbed club. Admiration pulses through me, then falters into dismay as Bergion flies through the air toward us, limbs flailing. He falls with a crash to the ground, and I rush to him. His chest is heaving and he’s groaning.

“He’s alive,” I say in relief.

“This is not the way to win,” Busiris mutters as he comes to stand beside me.

“Unless you have a better plan, I’m not sure what else to try,” I snap as Bergion’s eyes flutter open. I help him to sit up.

“This is a trial set by Athena. Just blindly attacking with brute force like that fool is idiocy,” Busiris says, gesturing at Hercules fighting on the right of the swamp.

Much as I hate Busiris, I think he’s right. I concentrate on the creature, trying to count the heads as I move my gaze across them all.

“Wait a minute… One of the heads is different to the others.”

Busiris looks at me. “What?”

“Look. That one, at the back. The horns are longer and there’s something different about the eyes.” I point, and he squints at the writhing mass of serpent heads.

“It looks the same to me.”

“No, that head is different from the others. I’m certain of it.”

Before Busiris can respond, there’s a flash of movement to our left. I spin, embarrassing levels of hope that it’s Evadne rushing me.

I see nothing, though.

“If you’re right, then you need to get to that head.”

“The captain told us to stay here,” I mutter, even as hope flares in my chest.

“Then tell him to get to that head. Although I strongly suspect the sulfur smell is because the swamp is acidic.”

I look at the inky-black liquid, then up at Albion, now almost at the top of the neck he’s climbing, and directly over the swamp. I’ve no idea what he plans to do when he gets there. Bash it with his club, I suppose. If only he climbed the neck that has the different head attached.

“How do we reach it?” I leap to my feet, leaving the stunned giant on the ground. My foot taps, restless energy charging through me as I try to think.

The gold-skinned man scowls. “You can’t, unless you possess the ability to fly…”

He trails off, and we stare at each other as the same thought strikes.

“We need a longboat,” we say in unison.

Chapter 44

Hercules

Ican’t keep this up. Even with unfailing strength, the impervious hide, and a magic sword, I know I’m not going to win like this.

I roll again, barely stopping myself from burying the sword into yet another shiny metallic neck. It’s so instinctual. I know I have to be careful of the swamp—there’s a reason it smells of sulfur. My boot tip sizzled and melted when I last got too close.

Gritting my teeth as huge jaws snap at me, I desperately try to think of a way to kill the monster.

The teeth get closer, forcing me to back up farther along the shore. As I move slowly, my eyes fall on the arrow that prick Theseus fired at me earlier, tiny flames still flickering gently at the end.

Fire.

Fire kills almost everything. I lunge forward, making sure I get under the head looming over me. I’m fast, but so is the Hydra. As my fingers close around the arrow, a black tongue, as thick as my arm, shoots out at me. The force of it knocks me sideways and the massive sword catches in the ground. I let go of it as I spin across the soil toward another open set of lethal jaws. Inhuman strength surges through me, and I push hard against the ground mid-roll.

My strength launches me to my feet, and I throw the arrow toward the swamp. It whistles as it flies past the now-countless heads and disappears into the darkness below. A few heads follow its motion, but most stay focused on me. I crouch, ready to lunge for my sword, when there’s a ground-shaking bang.

Huge orange flames shoot up from the swamp, leaping up between the columns of scaly necks. They grow as I watch, all of the Hydra heads shrieking and hissing, but doesn’t move from the fiery pit. Maybe it’s unable to leave the swamp? The flames flicker higher, burning red, and triumph seeps through me as I scoop up Keravnos.

Let the monster burn.

A scuttling sound breaks through the sound of the monster wailing, and I raise my sword, wary. I can hear hundreds of tapping sounds, like an army of huge ants. I look around, confused.

Spinning, checking the canyon path, I’m vaguely surprised to see none of the other crews in sight.

They haven’t even got the courage to try to take on the monster?

I laugh. The second Trial is mine, and once again, nobody else has come close.

Immortality is going to be easier to win than I thought.

Pain sears through my foot, and a cry of surprise escapes me. A crab, as metal as the Hydra and the size of a small dog, has a sharp pincer clamped on to my melted leather boot.

I lift my leg and try to shake it off, but it won’t let go. I bring Keravnos down, easily severing the pincer from the crab’s body, but my triumph is short-lived. Crabs are pouring from the black swamp, moving through the flames like they’re nothing. I look up at the Hydra heads, now lined up and quiet.

As one, they bellow. It’s a mechanical screeching sound that makes me drop Keravnos and fling my hands over my ears. After a moment, the noise abruptly cuts off. Before I can remove my hands, though, the crabs are swarming over me.

I can hear nothing but the clacking of metal pincers as they tear at my lion skin, seeking the vulnerable flesh beneath. I thrash, trying to throw them off, but for every one I dislodge, three more take its place.

They’re coordinated and relentless.

One finds a gap where my cloak doesn’t quite cover my neck. I feel the pincer pierce skin and I roar, grabbing the creature and crushing it in my fist. The metal crumples like paper, but the damage is done. Blood runs warm down my collarbone.

More find the opening. More pincers dig in. The weight of them is crushing me down into the mud at the swamp’s edge. The acidic liquid seeps into my clothes, burning where it touches bare skin.

This isn’t right, though. I’m Hercules. I’m invincible.

I reach deep inside, finding the well of strength Zeus gave me, the strength that’s never failed me before. I channel it through my limbs, feeling the familiar surge of power.

With a roar, I explode upward.

Crabs fly in every direction. I’m on my feet, Keravnos somehow back in my hand—I don’t remember grabbing it—and I’m swinging. The blade cuts through metal bodies like they’re made of air, the red glow intensifying with each strike.

But they keep coming.

My arms are beginning to tire. My movements are getting slower.

I can’t win this.

The thought is poison, but it’s true.

I need to retreat. Regroup. The Trial isn’t over yet—the Hydra still stands. I just need to get out of here, find another way.

I start backing toward the canyon, still swinging my sword in deadly arcs. The crabs follow, relentless. My boot catches on something and I stumble. I catch my footing fast, but it’s too late. The crabs surge forward and I’m on my back again, drowning in metal.

Chapter 45

Alexios

Lyssa looks on gleefully as Hercules disappears under the wave of crabs.

“You know we now have to get past the crabs as well? And now the swamp is on fire,” I say, raising an eyebrow at her.

“I couldn’t care less about killing the Hydra if Hercules is dead,” she snarls.

There’s no doubt that Olympus will be a better place without the flailing fucking sadist that is Hercules in it, with his ridiculous divine sword. The Hydra now has more heads than I can count, and that is solely down to the idiotic son of Zeus.

But if he dies and Lyssa pulls out of the competition this early…

No. There’s no time for doubt. This is my best shot, and I’m taking it. I’ll just have to convince her to keep going.

And work out how to avoid the crabs and kill the monster.

“You going to buy it a drink? That didn’t work out so well with the lion. If there’s any chance at all that he survives, the best way to stop him winning is by winning ourselves.”

She gives me a grudging look, but doesn’t answer.

“Captain!” A panting Len skids to a stop beside us.

“Are you all right? Did you find something?” Lyssa asks him.

At a loss for what else to do, Len, Epizon, and Lucas went to look around to see if there was anything here we could use to help.

“Yes. I overheard the giants say something, and I think they’re right.” He obviously ran back to us, his voice heavy with exertion.

“Go on.”

“One of the heads is different to the rest of them. The eyes are a different color. And the horns are longer.”

We all look at the heads.

“No, I can’t see it,” I say.

“Nor can I,” says Lyssa. “I can’t even count the heads, let alone see differences in them.”

“Only one of the giant crew could see it,” says Len. “I think it might be like the bridge. Maybe even a deliberate ploy by Athena to force teamwork.”

That would make sense from the goddess of strategy.

“Hang on, let me get Epizon back,” Lyssa says. Within a few seconds, her first mate is back at her side.

“Where’s Lucas?” she asks.

“I’m not sure—he was searching along the canyon wall.”

Lyssa looks over at the mist, then back at Epizon. “We’ll look for him in a minute.” She tells him what Len has said, and the little satyr nods along.

“There are fourteen heads. I’ll point the different one out to you,” he says, his voice hitching a bit.

We all turn from Len to the Hydra. It’s ignoring the pile of crabs trying to tear Hercules apart, and all its heads are now snapping at the giants, each other, or the huge flames that surround it. The firelight flickering off its metal scales makes it look like it’s made from gold. It’s breathtaking, really, and I can understand why Athena and Hephaestus would create such a thing. It’s both an engineering and strategic masterpiece.

“That one, there, at the back, fighting with the other two. It’s got a lighter ring in the middle of its eyes, almost yellow.”

I look hard. The eyes all look red.

“I can’t see it,” I say.

“Me either,” says Epizon.

“I’m sorry, Len, you’re the only one who can see it,” Lyssa says.

The satyr pales. “I’m going to have to go out there, aren’t I.” It’s a defeated statement, rather than a question.

“Nobody is going out there until we work out how to not die,” mutters Lyssa.

“The swamp isn’t safe and the heads are really high,” I say. “So we need a longboat.”

They all look at me.

Lyssa’s eyes narrow, but she doesn’t frown. Or smile. No surprise there. “We could go back to the wealthy houses and steal one,” she says.

Epizon shakes his head. “That will take too long.”

Lyssa begins to move, in the direction of the canyon. “There has to be something here. Athena wouldn’t design a Trial without—”

“Captain!” The cry cuts her off, then we see Lucas running out of the mist, waving. “I’ve found something!”

We all run toward him, and I’m relieved that it’s excitement, rather than terror, on his face.

When he sees us following, he scurries ahead, disappearing behind a cluster of large boulders near the canyon entrance. “Captain, there are longboats hidden here!”

Sure enough, tucked behind the rocks are three sleek longboats, their sails furled, clearly placed here deliberately.

“Thanks, Athena,” breathes Lyssa.

“So, you, Len, and I fly up to the different head and… lop it off?” I ask.

She casts a look at me as she climbs into the closest boat. “Yes. And you do exactly what I say.”

“When have I ever not?” I give her a smile that I’m certain will infuriate her.

She gives me one right back, and I accidentally wet my lips. Her gaze flicks to my mouth, then she blinks and looks at Epizon.

“Epizon, if we don’t make it back—”

“You’ll make it back, captain,” he says firmly.

“I know. But if I don’t… look after the Alastor.”

“Always.”

Len says a bunch of words too quickly for me to hear, then scrambles into the longboat.

Lyssa places her hand on the mast, and the boat rises slowly, and a little unsteadily, into the air. It’s only a moment before we’re high enough to see the Hydra in its fullest, a mass of lightning-fast teeth above a fire that must be raging ten feet tall now.

Perhaps for the first time, I wonder if I’ve made a terrible mistake.

Chapter 46

Lyssa

The longboat’s not like the Alastor—the response is sluggish and unfamiliar—but I push my will into it as best I can, and try to stay steady in the face of the scene below.

My stomach is in knots, though. Up close, the Hydra is even more massive than it looked before. The heads weave and snap at each other, a forest of necks all moving independently.

“There!” Len points. “That one, see? The horns are longer!”

I guide the boat higher, trying to get a better angle. Beside me, Alexios has gone very still.

“You all right?” I ask.

“Perfectly fine,” he says. “And I appreciate your concern.”

Despite everything, I almost smile. He’s lying. He’s as terrified as Len and I are.

A flash of movement catches my eye, and another longboat, this one narrower, with sails like those on a Typhoon, soars past us. Theseus is at the helm, Psyche beside him with her bow drawn.

“Shit,” I breathe. “They must have gone back for their own longboat.”

“The half giant saw us by the boulders just now too,” Alexios says. “They won’t be far behind us.”

I push more will into the boat, and we surge forward. “This is going to get messy,” I mutter.

“Captain!” Len’s voice is shrill. “Look out!”

A serpent head swings toward us, jaws gaping. I wrench the boat to the side and we spiral away, Alexios cursing beside me as he nearly slides off the bench. The head turns its attention to Theseus’s boat and Psyche fires an arrow that bounces harmlessly off its scales.

“Which head, Len?” I yell over the wind and the monster’s screeching.

“The one at the back! It’s barely moving!”

I nod and angle the boat toward the back of the writhing mass. The head Len indicated is indeed more still than the others, its movements more deliberate and calculated compared to the feral snapping of the others.

“That’s our target,” I say. “Get ready. This is going to be—”

A roar below interrupts me. A longboat shoots upward, and I watch in shock as the half giant Eryx steers it dangerously close to two snapping heads, and Theseus’s boat powers in the same direction.

Just as I think they’re going to collide, a third Hydra head appears from below, faster than I’m able to register, and closes its jaws directly around Theseus’s boat.

“No!” Hedone’s scream echoes across the swamp as the wooden vessel snaps clear in two, and both Theseus and Psyche are flung through the air.

I don’t think. I just react.

“Hold on!” I shout, and aim the boat downward.

“What are you doing?” Alexios yells.

“Saving them!”

We plummet through the writhing necks, teeth flashing on either side. Len begins to yell unintelligibly, but I ignore him, my eyes focused on the falling figures framed against the burning swamp below.

The flames grow hotter as we race downward, but I hold my nerve, willing the little boat to move faster. Just a few feet from the flames, I pass their falling bodies and spin the boat sharply.

There’s a thud as they land hard against the wood in the bottom of the boat, and Len squeals as he’s bounced off his bench and onto the hull with them.

“Hold on,” I yell as a Hydra head swoops after us and I speed in the opposite direction with a lurch.

“Thank you,” Theseus gasps behind me.

A sickening crunch accompanies another lurch. I spin around and come face to face with yellowing teeth as tall as I am. A huge jaw has bitten through the back of the boat. Theseus and Psyche scramble toward Alexios, Len, and me, away from the teeth.

I refocus my concentration and the boat rockets forward. I watch as the head rears back, eyes flashing, and then darts toward us again. We’re only just out of reach when its jaws clamp shut, closing on thin air.

A jeering smile takes over my face.

“Ha!” I yell before I can stop myself. Rage-fueled confidence powers through me.

“Captain! Captain, that’s the head!” I realize Len is shouting at me. “The one that just tried to eat us, that’s the head!”

I slow the broken boat and will it toward the ground, well out of reach of the Hydra.

“Everyone, out!” I yell, and turn to the disheveled Theseus and Psyche. They’re both still on the bottom of the boat, gripping the wooden bench that’s left and looking dazed. “Out!” I yell again.

The boat hasn’t stopped, but it’s slowed, and we’re not far off the ground. Len salutes, grabs the side of the boat, and vaults over the edge. Theseus gets to his feet quickly, pulling Psyche up with him.

“Consider me in your debt, Captain Lyssa,” he says, and follows Len out of the boat. Psyche nods at me as she goes after him.

As soon as they’re clear, I steer the boat back around to face the Hydra head. It snaps at me as I hover just out of reach, its fat tentacles writhing a few feet above the fiery swamp, the flickering light reflecting off its dark metal scales.

“Gods, I hope that satyr is right,” I mutter, and fly the longboat straight at the monster.

“Lyssa, my love,” Alexios says, a hint of alarm in his voice, “what’s the plan?”

“Get close enough to jump onto its neck.”

“That sounds rather a lot more like suicide than a plan.”

“It will be if you can’t keep up.” I veer sharply upward as a black tongue darts out toward us. I try not to hold my breath as the boat shoots over the top of the horned head, missing the slimy tongue by inches.

I am not the girl who runs anymore.

Rage pours through me and my muscles ache with tension.

I grip the wood hard and concentrate, almost completely reversing direction and dropping sharply. The boat plummets and my red hair flies up around my face. I count to three and halt the boat in its tracks.

The Hydra has tried to spin around to get me, but my maneuver was too tight. I’m right behind it and it can’t see me.

“When I get close, jump for the neck!” I shout to Alexios.

“Zeus’s balls, you’re actually going to get us killed.”

The head moves around slowly, the tentacles probing the air, looking for us. I creep along behind it, anticipation building almost unbearably. I’m only a few feet behind the huge horns framing its long head.

I climb onto the bench, Alexios moving with me.

“Three… Two…”

There’s a roar above us, and the Hydra’s head snaps back suddenly as it looks toward the sky. I barely have time to register the largest horn as it impales the side of the longboat.

There’s a sickly hiss, and the Hydra spins its head. The boat is thrown from side to side, the shining horn stuck through the splintered wood.

I throw my arms around the bench as I slip, scrabbling to keep hold. Alexios crashes into me, wrapping his arms around me as we both cling to the bench.

“Don’t let go!” he shouts in my ear.

My mind whirls as we’re thrashed about. If I let go for a second I’ll be thrown to the fiery swamp below, and no amount of inhuman strength will save me from that.

There’s a roar, then a loud clang and the beast stops moving. The boat creaks and swings sharply, now dangling vertically from the horn.

I scrabble up the bench seat as fast as I can and launch myself up toward the horn. As I grab at it with one hand, another, much bigger than my own, appears around it.

Eryx, the half giant, hauls himself up into view. He has both legs wrapped around the creature’s neck and is pulling himself up to get to the snakelike head.

The beast begins to thrash again, and I reach to get my other hand onto the horn. I pull myself up using my arms, feeling the Rage pulsing through me. I try to wrap my legs around the Hydra’s neck, but I’m so much shorter than Eryx and can’t get any purchase on the gleaming metal.

“Lyssa!” Alexios is climbing up behind me, reaching for the horn.

Suddenly something grabs at my leg. I kick out hard, but I’ve reacted too late. In a heartbeat I’m torn away from the horn, my desperate hands sliding against smooth metal.

I yell in fury but can’t get a grip on anything, and then I’m swinging by my ankle, upside down over the flames.

I use my strong stomach muscles to curl up, trying to right myself. Eryx is looking down at me, hanging from the Hydra’s neck by his massive legs and holding my ankle in his large hand. His dark eyes are alive with excitement.

“Sorry, Captain Lyssa,” he calls.

“Don’t you dare—” I start, but he lets go.

I’m falling.

The flames rush up to meet me, and I have just enough time to close my eyes before something slams into me from the side.

I crash into wood, not flames, and hear Alexios groan. He’s tangled around me, and we’re moving. Longboat, I realize. We landed in a longboat.

“Fuck,” he gasps.

I roll off him, panting, my heart hammering. “You jumped after me.”

“Just in time.”

Theseus’s face appears above me, and he hauls both of us to our feet. “Debt paid?” he says to me.

I heave in breaths and nod. “Yup. I’d say so.”

“He’s going to win,” Theseus says, and his longboat slows as we move out of range of the snapping heads. We all look up.

I rest my hand on my thumping chest, watching as Eryx reaches the top of the Hydra’s neck. Better him than Hercules.

Chapter 47

Eryx

Itighten my grip with my legs and hang on a moment more, conscious I’m wasting precious time but unable to stop myself. I need to make sure the red-haired girl and her boyfriend landed in Theseus’s longboat, where I tried to throw her. I want to win, but I don’t have a taste for killing innocent folk. And honestly, I wasn’t expecting him to jump after her.

Relief washes through me as I see them both hit the wood with a thud, and I pull myself back up around the serpent’s neck. I get my arms wrapped around two horns just as the Hydra head lurches forward, moving down dangerously close to the flames, then veers sharply back upward.

I clamp my mouth shut and grip the metal beast harder. My eyes narrow as we duck down toward the fire again, adrenaline coursing through my tense body. The beast won’t get rid of me that easily.

I pull hard on the horns, turning my massive body slowly as the thing weaves back and forth and up and down, trying to dislodge me. After a few painstaking minutes I’ve rotated myself enough that I’m on the back of the thing’s neck instead of hanging under its jaw.

Lyssa’s wrecked longboat hangs beside me, smashing against the gleaming metal scales every time we swerve. I reach forward and grab the huge central horn. Just as I wrap my other hand firmly around it there’s an almighty clash, and I’m catapulted sideways as another gleaming serpent head smashes into the one I’m riding.

I’m barely able to hang on as they fly sideways, both beast heads snarling and hissing. The bottom half of my body skids across the scales as the creature recovers, then darts back toward the gaping maw of the new head.

I need to finish this, now.

I bare my teeth and summon all of my strength, struggling to get my feet on the writhing neck. I get one huge boot flat against the metal and use the purchase to heave myself forward, reaching my right arm over the fierce horns.

Pain lances through my ribs and I jerk my body backward. One of them has pierced my skin, under my arm. I ignore the stinging pain and scrabble around with my hand, trying to feel for the thing’s eye.

It thrashes harder as my fingers brush across something angular and jagged, different from the smooth metal scales. I plant my other boot against the thing’s neck and stretch, trying to see over the horns without them impaling me.

Another burning surge of pain shoots through my torso, and I hiss. I clench my hand into a fist and punch blindly at what I think is the Hydra’s eye, hoping it’s more vulnerable than the scales.

A shadow moves over me and I glance up. The other head is above me, and it’s looking straight at me. It opens its mouth slowly, showing lethal teeth, and its tongue starts to flick out.

I smash at the eye again with my fist, as hard as I can. With a crack it shatters beneath my hand and the monster roars, whipping its head back.

Instinctively I push my hand into the hole I’ve just made, surprised to feel nothing inside the thing’s head. I push farther in, feeling around for anything that might control the creature.

A loud hiss above me accompanies the wet drip of something on my back. Saliva.

I’m out of time.

My hand closes around something cold and spherical, and I immediately yank my arm out of the eyehole, pulling the sphere with me.

The effect is instant.

Everything freezes. The head above me and the one I’m clinging to just stop moving. The fierce red eyes glaring down at me dim to nothing. The only movement I can see is the flames below, dancing and flickering.

I let out a long breath, trying to give my hammering heart a chance to slow, and look at the sphere in my hand. It’s made of the same dark, shining metal as the Hydra and has an intricate pattern carved in it, covering the whole surface. I think the pattern has a faint blue glow as I stare at it.

“Well done, Eryx,” says a deep female voice in my head.

I’m nearly startled enough to drop the sphere, and as I look around for the source of the voice, everything goes black.

It’s only dark for a split second, and then I’m standing on the banks of the swamp, alongside my captain. Antaeus beams at me, and claps me hard on the back.

“Congratulations to our victors, the Orion.” Athena herself stands before us. She’s as beautiful as ever, and pride swells in me.

I won. I destroyed the Hydra, won the Trial, and am now being addressed by a goddess.

“You will want to attend to that wound,” she says, and gestures at my chest.

I look down, surprised. Blood is streaming from the tear in my shirt. I can’t feel it, though. I tentatively touch the edge of the wound. Nothing.

“Your next Trial will be announced in one hour,” Athena says, and vanishes.

“Congratulations.”

I spin. It’s Captain Lyssa, her crew fanned out behind her.

She points at my chest. “My medic, Len, tells me that will kill you before the next Trial starts if you don’t treat it now.”

“Is it numb yet?” the satyr asks.

I nod, suddenly feeling very strange.

“Why would you help him?” says Antaeus brusquely. “He dropped you into the flames.”

The red-haired girl shrugs. “Alexios here says he aimed for Theseus’s boat. Is that true?”

Her words seem calm, maybe even indifferent, but there’s fire in her eyes.

“Yes. I wasn’t trying to kill you. Just beat you.”

Her eyes flare with anger, and I’m fairly sure she’s mad as Hades. But when she speaks, her voice is casual. “It is a game, after all. And we’d rather you win than Hercules,” she says. “Has anyone seen him?”

“No. Last I saw, he was buried under the metal crabs.”

I blink at my captain. There are two of him. I know that isn’t right.

“Er…” I manage to say before I crash to the ground.

“Get me my bag! I’m sorry, captain, but we may be too late,” says the satyr, rushing over.

“We can’t be. Athena just told me to help him. She said he was important,” Lyssa says angrily. I can hear her voice, but everything is getting dark and fuzzy.

Strong hands roll me onto my back. The little satyr’s face appears above me, his expression grim.

“Eryx, hold on,” is the last thing I hear Antaeus say.

But I can’t hold on.

Before I drift off, I think about blue hair and dark eyes, and I wonder where she is now.

Wherever it is, I hope she’s safe. And I hope she saw me win.

Chapter 48

Hercules

“Icould have gotten myself back here without you,” I say through gritted teeth.

The words are out before I can stop them, and I immediately regret them.

Pain surges through me—not from my wounds, but from Zeus. From head to toe, every nerve ending screams. It’s like being struck by lightning from the inside out. I can’t bite back the shout that tears from my throat.

“You’re so desperate to look the victor?” Zeus’s voice is a hoarse whisper. The walls of my washroom on the Hybris tremble. “You, who just failed spectacularly because of your own arrogance?”

“Father, I—” I gasp, but he cuts me off with a gesture. The pain intensifies and I collapse fully onto the cold marble floor, convulsing.

“For that delusion, I’ll leave some of these wounds unhealed,” he says. He crouches down beside me, and I can feel the raw power radiating from him. He’s not just my father. He’s the ruler of Olympus, and the lord of gods. He could unmake me with a thought.

I force myself to meet his eyes. The purple energy still crackles there, fierce and lethal. “I’m sorry, Father.”

“I do admire your courage,” he says softly, and the pain lessens. I gasp in relief. “But I deplore your stupidity. Next time, you take the girl with you. She can help.”

“Yes, Father.” The words come out barely a whisper. I try to inject proper respect into my tone. “Forgive me. I spoke without thinking. I am… grateful for your intervention.”

The words taste like ash, but they’re true.

“If any of the other gods had seen me pluck you from Athena’s metal abominations, you would be thrown from the competition,” Zeus says, straightening to his full height. He towers over me. “Do you understand what you almost cost me? What you almost cost yourself? That your success in this competition reflects on me?”

“Yes, Father.” I keep my eyes down now, submissive. My pride burns, but survival instinct is stronger. “I understand. I’m sorry.”

“Without the lion skin, the crabs would have killed you. Those wounds would have been fatal. Fool.”

I close my eyes and focus on breathing. There’s no good to be had from losing my temper with Zeus. Especially when he’s healing me. I’m struggling to believe his words, though. I didn’t feel close to death when I was in the middle of the heaving mass of metal crabs. I was sure I would fight my way out eventually, that my strength would be enough. But I suppose that the wounds would have slowed me down for the next trial.

“I have enough to worry about without having to nurse you back to health like some mortal infant.”

I feel his power flow into me, knitting flesh, mending bone. It’s not gentle, and I have to clench my jaw to keep from crying out again. After an infernally long few minutes, the pain once more subsides.

“That’s as much as I can do without it being obvious I have been involved,” he says.

“Thank you, Father,” I manage.

“For the next Trial, use your head, and use the girl! She’s proven herself capable.”

“Yes, Father. I will.”

“And win the next Trial,” he commands. “Prove to me that my faith in you isn’t misplaced.” Before I can answer, he vanishes in a flash of bright white light.

I let out a groan and use the copper bathtub to pull myself to a sitting position. My head swims, and for a moment I think I might vomit. I grip the smooth metal edge until the sensation passes.

Looking down at my torso, I finger my shredded shirt. The fabric is soaked with blood and torn to ribbons. Maybe the crabs really would have killed me. The few that got under the lion skin appear to have done far more damage than I realized in the heat of battle.

I tenderly touch the new scars on my chest. Some are just pink lines now, but others are still angry and red, barely closed. A reminder of my failure. A punishment.

If Zeus says I should use Evadne, I will. It doesn’t make me weak to follow a god’s orders, I decide. It’s not weakness to accept help when commanded by the ruler of Olympus himself. That’s just… strategic obedience.

I concentrate on a mental image of Evadne’s face. “Evadne, come to my quarters,” I say, pushing the words through our ship’s mental connection.

“Yes, captain,” she replies immediately, surprise clear in her voice. She wasn’t expecting me to be back so soon. Probably thought I was still at the swamp, after watching my defeat.

Everyone will know by now. Anger gives me the strength I need to get to my feet. My legs hold, though they tremble slightly. I begin to peel off my shredded clothes, wincing as fabric pulls at the wounds.

Evadne gets to my cabin in moments, and I order her to bathe me. Willingly and carefully, she wipes away the blood and grime as I let the hot water of the bath soothe my muscles.

“How…” Evadne starts, but she trails off when I look at her. She knows how I magically returned to my own ship. I will not say that my father helped me out loud.

“Who won the Trial?” I grind out. I need to know.

Her eyes drop from mine. “The Orion. Which is good, really. Theseus is your biggest rival, and obviously”—she pauses and looks nervously at me—“obviously the Orion is better than the Alastor.”

She’s right. If it isn’t me, the giants winning probably is the best of a bad situation. I close my eyes.

“When is the next Trial being announced?”

“Soon.”

“How soon?”

“I’m not sure—Asterion is watching the flame dish,” she answers.

“Good. As soon as we are done here, I need to let Olympus know that their hero lives.”

Chapter 49

Eryx

Icough as light filters painfully through my half-closed eyes.

“Welcome back,” rumbles Antaeus.

“Captain?” I croak, unsure where I am. I raise my head gently, pain throbbing in my skull as I look around. I’m in a bed that isn’t mine, but the wood-clad walls look like the Orion’s. Antaeus is sitting in a big chair beside me, smiling. “What…” My voice trails off as memories start to slam into me. I was on the Hydra head over the burning swamp. I smashed its eye and got that weird metal ball. “Did we win? I thought I saw Athena—”

Antaeus cuts me off with a deep belly laugh. “Yes, brother. We won. You won.”

Pride swells in me, and I try to sit up but my chest constricts painfully.

“Where are we?” I ask, wincing.

“My chambers. Don’t get used to it—it’s just until you feel better,” he says. “You had us worried. I really thought we were going to lose you for a while there, but Captain Lyssa’s medic knew about the poison in the Hydra’s horns and was able to treat it. He just left.”

Antaeus leans forward and clasps my shoulder, more gently than I knew he was capable of.

“You’ve been blue for the best part of the last hour. I didn’t know if you would make it.”

I look down at my bandaged chest, my head swimming. I was that close to death? My skin is so pale it’s almost white.

“Why did Lyssa and her crew help me?” I ask slowly. “I literally threw her into the fire. I mean, I aimed for the boat, but I’m surprised she didn’t finish the job herself.”

Antaeus’s eyes narrow. “I know. It’s strange. She said that they were more interested in stopping Hercules than winning themselves, and it was the decent thing to do. But I heard her say something to her medic about Athena believing you were important.” My captain leans even closer into me, his bright blue eyes intense under heavy brows. “You know anything about that?”

I screw my face up. “I’ve never spoken to a god in my life,” I say. “Even Poseidon. You know that.”

Antaeus nods and then stands abruptly, his massive frame filling my vision. “That’s what I thought. Get some rest. You need to drink all of that.” He gestures at a blue, sludgy liquid in a glass on the stand next to the bed. “The next Trial will be announced soon.” He strides to the door, then pauses and turns back. “Eryx, you did good. Really good.”

I beam.

When Antaeus has gone, I lay my head back on the pillow, enjoying how much nicer this bed and its sheets are than my own.

I did it.

I redeemed myself in my captain’s eyes and showed myself a hero to all of Olympus.

A slow, cramping pain rolls through my chest and I take a sharp breath in. I reach for the sludge and sniff it warily. Saliva fills my mouth at the sour smell, and I grimace.

But if what Antaeus says is true, I owe my life to the little medic and this sludge.

Athena told them I’m important, I muse, as I stare at the blue liquid. I’m not surprised that they have the favor of Athena. There was no way a ship that insignificant could have entered the Trials without the influence of a god, and Athena was always publicly against Hercules’s pardon. It had to have been her or Hera.

Did she pull Lyssa into the Trials for entertainment? Or are they all genuinely telling the truth about the goal being to stop Hercules from becoming immortal?

My face contorts again as I remember the centaurs at the Void feast. Stopping that man from living forever seems like a good idea to me.

But why would Athena say I’m important? I have nothing to do with her, or anyone in that arrogant human’s life.

My fingers are weakening around the glass, and I tip some cautiously into my mouth. I immediately begin to splutter, and have to force myself to swallow. It’s disgusting. But Antaeus said I have to finish it.

Barely moments after I’ve forced the rest of the foul stuff down my throat, the pain in my chest recedes to nothing. Fatigue, like a physical force, powers through my body, and the glass tumbles from my numb fingers.

Well, either the little satyr has poisoned me, or this is a very effective sedative.

A second later, I’m asleep.

Chapter 50

Lyssa

Hope skitters in my belly, making it impossible for me to concentrate on anything else as I stare out at Libra. Hercules was completely buried under those metal crabs. I know he has the impervious lion skin and Zeus’s sword, but… It really was a lot of pincers.

I want to wash the grime off myself, remove the stink of sulfur. But I need to wait for the announcement.

I need to hear if Hercules lived.

“I’m back on board, cap,” Len’s voice sounds in my head.

“Good,” I tell my medic. “And Eryx?”

“He’ll make it.”

I don’t reply. I’m not sure how I feel toward the giant who dropped me by the ankle over a pit of flames.

More annoyingly, I don’t know why Athena told me to save him, or told Len how to.

It’s not that I’m against saving folks’ lives. But why did Athena proclaim me a hero, force me into the Trials, then insist we save our rivals? She could have just backed them and left me the fuck out of all this if it’s the giants she needs to win.

Stop being stupid, I tell myself. If an omnipotent goddess wants to keep things from me, that’s up to her. I’ve been chosen for a reason. And that reason is to help stop Hercules. It doesn’t matter if the Orion wins.

A flash of something bursts into my mind, unbidden. Epizon. But as a child, tiny in a space absolutely packed with creatures. The image is gone again so quickly I barely get any details.

“Epizon? Are you all right?”

His mental reply isn’t instant, and it’s a little slurred. “Yes, captain. Just checking in on our guest.”

“Shit,” I mutter, and start to move toward the hauler.

“Where we going?” asks Alexios. He’s been restless since we returned, rolling on the balls of his feet and summoning, then dismissing, Bassari repeatedly.

“Cargo deck.”

We find Epizon sitting on a crate, watching Tenebrae. She’s staring back at him, her purple scales shimmering in the dim light from the sparse portholes, her eyes bright and unblinking.

“Hey, you sure it’s a good idea for you to be alone with her down here?” I ask him.

Epizon looks at me, his eyes slightly unfocused.

My brow creases in concern. “Ep?”

He blinks. “Yeah, it’s fine,” he mumbles. “Len said there’s not enough light down here for her to do anything serious.”

“Len is guessing,” I reply. “I…” I glance at Alexios, then switch to silent mental communication. “I just saw you in my head. As a child.”

He frowns at me, then looks at Tenebrae again. “Oh,” is all he says.

“Hey, I’m pretty tired,” Alexios says. “How about I go over there and have a sleep.”

I cock my head suspiciously. “You can sleep on a pile of rope?”

“I can sleep anywhere. And it’ll give you two some privacy.”

Now I’m even more suspicious. “You have so far made a sport of annoying me. Why are you trying to be helpful now?”

“It’s not for you. It’s for him.” He points at Epizon, who’s staring at the tank creature again. “I like him, and I can sense you two need some alone time.” He shrugs, then turns and settles himself into the pile of rope, closing his eyes.

I watch him a moment, until his chest is moving slowly and his breathing is deep. I don’t know if he’s really asleep or not.

“Want some?” Epizon asks, and I turn to him. He’s holding out his hip flask.

Relieved he’s not transfixed on Tenebrae, I move to sit beside him.

“Yeah. I’m worried about you, and this thing.” I take a swig of the strong alcohol and hiss.

“You don’t need to worry about me.”

“I do, though. And I shouldn’t be seeing images from your childhood. Ep, please don’t come down here alone again.”

He opens his mouth, then pauses and sighs. “You’re right. I’m”—he looks for the right word—“drawn to her. That’s probably a little suspicious.”

“Yeah. I think so.” I pause, not wanting to ask the next question, but forcing myself to. In case the peacock asshole is awake, I switch to mental communication.

“Do you… Do you want to talk about what happened? What you saw when you collapsed?”

“Not today,” he answers, softly, aloud.

“Okay,” I say, relieved. I would do anything, anything at all, for Epizon, and I can’t stand to see him in pain. I’ve avoided asking him how he ended up on Libra for years, because I don’t want to know what horrors the strong, kind man before me had to face. I know it’s selfish, that he may want somebody to tell. If and when he does, I’ll be there, but I’m sagging slightly in relief that it’s not now.

“How are you doing?” he asks me.

“Desperate to hear that the crabs killed Hercules,” I say, and take another swig before handing the flask back.

“I don’t know why Athena wanted us to save the half giant,” I say silently.

“Because it was the right thing to do? And he could have dropped you into the flames but he dropped you safely into a longboat?”

I snort. “Not everybody is as virtuous as you, Ep. There’ll be more motive than that. We should keep an eye on the giants. I wonder if they’re supposed to win.”

“Nobody is supposed to win, Lyssa. It’s a competition between mortals. The gods can’t decide who’ll win—it’s up to us. The heroes.”

A second snort escapes. “So you’re saying the gods aren’t getting involved? Why was Len transported back to the Orion to help then? If Athena is breaking the rules, you can bet Zeus, Poseidon, and Aphrodite are too.”

“Hmmm. Hercules did pull that glowing sword out of nowhere,” Epizon concedes.

We lapse into silence again.

“Do you want to win?” I ask eventually.

Epizon sounds surprised. “Well, yeah. Don’t you?”

“Honestly, I hadn’t gotten past the thought of facing Hercules. Now we’re here, doing this, risking our lives… It’s hard not to think about it.”

“Imagine what you could achieve with eternity,” says Epizon out loud.

“What? What would you achieve? It would just be us and the gods. Forever. Might be kind of lonely.”

Epizon pauses before answering. “You’ll never be alone again, Lyssa. We win this together, or not at all.”

“Hmm. My money is on not at all,” I say, forcing lightness into my tone.

“The next one. The next one will be ours.”

“Captain!” Len’s voice interrupts our conversation. “It’s Hercules.”

“He’s alive,” Len says when we reach him at the now-quiet flame dish.

My stomach twists, disappointment flowing through every part of me.

It was stupid to hope. But really, that’s all it was. Slim hope.

“He just sent a flame message out to all the ships. He said that he wanted everyone to know that he was saved by his almighty lion skin and that he was fighting fit for the next Trial.”

“No gods involved, my ass,” I growl. “There’s no way he survived all those metal pincers on his own.”

“Didn’t Athena just save the half giant?” Alexios shrugs. “He’s not the only one getting help.”

Lucas starts and jumps back as I round on Alexios.

“Poseidon should be helping the giants, not Athena! She should be helping us!” I hiss. I realize as I say the words that they sound petty and jealous, but the part of me that is worried that even the goddess who chose me doesn’t think I can win is apparently too loud to suppress.

“Athena is the goddess of strategy. I’m quite sure she has a clever plan.” We all turn and look at Lucas.

“Then I wish she’d share it with us,” I grit out. “But yes, you’re right, Lucas. We must keep faith in her.” Like we have a choice.

I turn to Len. “What happened on the Orion?” I ask the satyr.

“I really thought I’d lost Eryx for a while—he was completely blue. But the concoction Athena told me to make worked. As long as he drinks it all, I think he’ll be all right.”

“Did you learn anything useful about the Orion while you were there?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “I only really saw the captain’s chambers, then he took me up to the top deck in a hauler and we rode back in their longboat. It’s massive. Reinforced handrails and haulers, and the sails were in really good condition, but I can’t tell you anything we couldn’t see from getting up close.”

“They put Eryx in the captain’s chambers?” I don’t know why I’m surprised. I would do the same for any of my own crew.

Len nods enthusiastically. “Captain Antaeus was very worried. It was quite touching, really.”

“Huh,” I say softly. At least it sounds like Athena is helping the good guys.

“I would so love to have seen a Zephyr kitted out for giants,” Lucas breathes, a dreamy look in his eyes.

“Ask me what you like, and I’ll try to remember,” the satyr tells him.

Lucas’s face lights up, but mercifully for the rest of us, the gentle orange flames roar white in the flame dish before he can speak. The blond man materializes as they die down, smiling his fake-looking smile.

“Good evening, Olympus! Well, that last one was exciting, wasn’t it? Are you ready to find out what’s coming next?” He beams and spreads his arms out. “Trial three, everybody!”

He fades from sight and is replaced by a slight, tanned figure with blonde hair in long braids and a bow as tall as she is slung over one shoulder.

“Artemis,” breathes Epizon.

“Good evening, heroes. As the goddess of the hunt, I want to pose a different kind of challenge to you than your last two.” Her voice sounds young and innocent, compounding her childlike looks. “Make your way to Sagittarius. Your Trial will be revealed there at sunrise tomorrow morning.” She fades from the dish and the flames flicker gently again, orange seeping back into them.

“Sagittarius!” Len squeaks.

“Captain, do you know how few people see Sagittarius?” The excitement in Epizon’s voice is infectious, and I can’t help smiling. He’s long spoken of wanting to see how the centaurs live. Now he may get a chance.

“I didn’t think we would go somewhere forbidden so soon!” Len says.

“Do you think we’ll be hunting something?” asks Alexios.

“I suppose you’re good at hunting?” I say, sitting down in the captain’s chair. He shrugs. “Have you been to Sagittarius before?” I know the answer is almost certainly no.

Alexios shakes his head. “No. I’ve only been to two forbidden realms.” Everyone looks at him, interest piqued.

“Which ones?” asks Lucas.

Alexios grins at him. “That would be telling.”

“One of them is obviously Pisces,” I say. “Invited to exclusive parties, I imagine.”

Alexios turns to me. “I would ask if you’re jealous, but your obvious contempt for rich folk who like parties would suggest not.”

“Well, when those same folk clamor to lick the ass of the person who murdered your whole family, we’ll talk about that.”

“You tar everyone with the same brush.”

“Because experience has taught me to.”

“Then you’ve not experienced enough.” I glare at him. He raises one eyebrow. “Do you think you and your crew can be categorized so easily, along with all the other smugglers and miscreants in Olympus?”

“Miscreants?” splutters Len. “I’ll have you know that we are very selective in our illegal activities.”

“My point exactly,” Alexios says.

He’s fucking infuriating, and I’m too angry about Hercules surviving to listen to his shit. I stand up.

“Money and power make people greedy and selfish,” I say. “I’ve seen it too conclusively to believe otherwise. Now, this conversation is over. Leave me alone while I plot a course to Sagittarius.”

Chapter 51

Alexios

The kid Lyssa rescued from the vampire really is obsessed with ships. I don’t know how he’s come up with this many questions to ask the satyr, but they appear to be unending.

“I need to go and read up on the indigenous fauna of Sagittarius,” Len eventually tells him, and trots off.

Lucas pads over to the captain’s chair and runs his fingers over the large navigation wheel.

Lyssa is standing with both hands on the mast, her eyes closed. She’s been there for at least twenty minutes, and the ship started moving almost right away. I guess she’s avoiding me the only way she can when she can’t be more than twenty feet from me.

“Do you think she’d mind if I sit down?” Lucas whispers to me loudly.

I shrug. “I think it’s better to ask forgiveness than permission.”

He grins, then hesitantly lowers himself into the chair.

“No, I don’t mind.” Lyssa’s voice rings across the deck, and he leaps up like he’s been electrocuted.

“I’m sorry, captain, I just—”

“I said I don’t mind,” she says. “It’s highly unlikely you’ll be able to communicate with her, but if on the off chance you do, do not change our course.”

Lucas’s mouth drops open. “You think I’d be able to do that?”

Lyssa lets go of the mast and opens her eyes. She blinks, then focuses on Lucas. “I offered you a place on my ship,” she says, throwing a glare at me. “And if you’re worthy, then the Alastor will accept you. If that happens, then yeah. Sure. You can direct her anywhere, unless I stop you.”

Lucas sits back down, leans forward, and strokes the wheel again. “I’ve always wanted to live on a ship,” he says.

“Why’s that?”

He looks at her. “Freedom. Endless skies. Constant excitement.”

I watch in fascination as every edge around the formidable Captain Lyssa melts away. Her eyes shine, her shoulders relax, her tight mouth softens, and her fierce aura warms.

“She’ll give you all of those things, Lucas. If this is the right place for you, then she’ll be everything you need.”

The kid beams at her. “Thank you. For taking me in.”

She stiffens a little. She’s not used to praise, perhaps? Or gratitude?

“Thank me when you’ve earned your permanent place.” The softness is gone.

Lucas nods fervently. “I’ll earn it, captain. I will. Don’t you doubt it.”

“Good.”

I’m not sure what I expected when I put the poison in Lyssa’s glass at the feast. I didn’t get further than the immediate plan. But it sure as shit wasn’t this.

Why in Hades do I feel this twist in my stomach every time she surprises me? And why did I feel so jealous hearing her and her best friend take comfort in each other?

Loneliness. That’s all. It’s nothing to do with her. She’s fascinating, for sure, but I’m not actually jealous of Epizon receiving her affections.

A vivid image of how I’d like to receive her affections barrels through my mind, and I take a deep breath.

“I need a wash,” I say.

She looks at me, eyes blazing, and my cock stiffens. “You and me both.”

Shit, now my head’s filled with that.

She doesn’t take long in the washroom, but it’s long enough that I’m aching by the time she leaves. I’ve also moved dangerously close to abandoning caution.

I give her a smile as she exits the washroom. “You know, I’m not sure I’ve ever been so close to death as I was today.”

“And you’re smiling about it because…?”

“Because, special girl, it was exhilarating. I’ve never felt like this. Is this how you feel all the time?”

“You’re a man-child, with no idea what’s at stake,” she says.

“Oh, I know what’s at stake. And I got a healthy reminder when you forced me to jump onto a giant monster over a pit of acid and flame—my life, your life, and everyone dependent on us.”

I falter slightly at the word us.

She cocks her head. “Who’s dependent on you?”

“Bassari,” I answer. She narrows her eyes. Fuck. Focus. “And now this crew,” I add with an indifferent shrug. “I am, after all, a part of the Alastor now.”

I know that’ll piss her off, and I’m rewarded with a bark of anger. “Nobody is a part of this crew until they’ve earned it— which, by the way, you will never, ever do,” she spits. “Tell me truthfully, did you trick your way onto my ship just to try to live forever?”

“We’ve had this conversation before, and I’m bored of it.” I pull my shirt over my head.

“No, we haven’t. And you don’t get to choose what we talk about. I’m your captain. Your superior.”

I grin at her, then yank off my trousers.

Her cheeks pink, but this time she refuses to spin around. “That’s not going to work anymore.”

Slowly, I pull down my dark underwear. She keeps her eyes fixed on my face.

“My esteemed Captain Lyssa,” I say. “I followed your orders to the letter today. And we nearly won. I think I deserve some credit.”

Cheeks darkening, she inadvertently wets her lips.

“Fine. You… You weren’t shit.”

I give a bark of laughter, which makes her jump enough to lose her laser focus on my eyes. They move straight to my erect cock.

An unintelligible noise mumbles from her mouth as her eyes widen. My grin stretches from ear to ear. I’d say from her face that she’s not seen many before.

“I’ll take that.” I smile.

Her eyes snap guiltily back to mine. “Take what?” she blurts.

“You saying I wasn’t shit. Or has this made you forget what we were talking about?”

I wave my hand down at my cock, and she follows its movement, then swears viciously.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

I frown. “This is perfectly healthy, I assure you. I had a near-death experience. Much adrenaline. And now, apparently, much arousal.”

She shakes her head, clenching her teeth together. “Get the fuck in there, now.” Her arm snaps out at the washroom.

“Want to join me?”

“Not if our lives depended on it.”

I shrug. “You know where I am if you change your mind.”

Sadly for me, she doesn’t change her mind. A woman with that much passion inside her must have needs, though. And fuck, what must it look like when she gives in to them?

As I’m cursed with a vivid imagination, it’s mere moments before my hand is wrapped around my cock, pumping it hard as I picture Lyssa straddling me, gloriously naked, fiercely reluctant, and utterly coming apart around me.

I suppress my moan as I find my release, and am almost immediately disappointed that it’s done nothing at all to quench whatever this restlessness is.

Desire. Perhaps even a crush? That familiar feeling of wanting the unwantable.

But what is it I want from her?

I want to make her scream my name. I want to make her feel like nobody else has ever made her feel. I want to watch all that anger and fear and armor crumble.

Why, though?

She was supposed to be a means to an end. She’s dangerously close to becoming a distraction.

Enough, I tell myself, and dunk my head under the surface of the bathwater. No more fantasies. Eyes on the prize, and nowhere else.

Chapter 52

Hedone

My pulse races as I stand outside my captain’s chambers, sure that the goddess of love must know I’m hiding and listening.

I was walking down the wide corridor that leads to my own quarters when I saw the blinding white flash that signals the arrival of a god around the edges of Theseus’s door. Impulse made me stop. The gods aren’t supposed to get involved in the Trials, but I wasn’t the least bit surprised to hear Aphrodite’s voice through the wood when I crept to the door.

“It is hard for me to visit, or to help you, good Theseus,” she’s saying. “Zeus is particularly vigilant just now.” There’s the sound of liquid pouring. “Thank you,” the goddess sings. Her voice makes my skin tingle.

“But Zeus gave Hercules Keravnos, just as you said he would,” Theseus says.

“He is the lord of the gods. He has a certain amount of… flexibility that we don’t all share the luxury of. But I have recently made a discovery that should keep him busy for a while.” I can hear the smile in the goddess’s words. “There’s nothing like one of his brothers misbehaving to distract our good lord, and Hades has been a very naughty boy indeed.”

“Do you know when we will visit Hades’s realm? I have always wanted to see Virgo,” asks Theseus.

The goddess laughs a tinkling laugh, and I find myself smiling involuntarily.

“It was an almighty row, getting Hades to allow any Trial to occur in his beloved realm after he has spent so long trying to keep everyone out. No, we choose the Trials at random just before they are announced, so as to avoid any cheating.”

“What has he done that will upset Zeus?”

“Ah, Theseus, I can’t tell you that. Knowledge is power, and you must earn it.”

I hear movement, then a long sigh from Aphrodite that sends pleasant shivers through my own body.

“There’s more to Olympus than meets the mortal eye,” she breathes. “No map will show you what a god can.”

I wait, still and silent by the door another five minutes, but I hear no more talking, just soft moans and long breaths. I carry on down the corridor to my own rooms, my mind whirring. Hercules should know that his father will soon be distracted.

I pause with my hand on the door of my quarters. I have to help him, but how?

Psyche made it clear on Libra that she had noticed just how unhelpful I was being when she yelled at me. “Immortality, Hedone! We’ll never have a second chance at this, and you are not helping! Stay on the ship next time,” she said, before running after Theseus. As long as Psyche doesn’t suspect my real reason for being so unhelpful I’ll be fine, but what if they really do start leaving me on the ship every time? How can I help Hercules then?

Psyche thinks I’m weak. And why wouldn’t she? I’m the demigoddess of pleasure. Not a skill associated with strength. Only Theseus knows what I’m really capable of, of who I had nearly become when they released me from the temple I was raised in.

The goddess’s words ring in my mind. Knowledge is power. The men and women I meet fall over themselves to tell me anything I want to know. It was Theseus who patiently showed me the value of a moral way of life, taught me that tempering my desire to control them would be worth it, knowing how much better true love would feel than false manipulations.

Am I weak, as Psyche thinks? Or am I stronger than all of them, for being able to control myself all this time? For the first time in years, a desire to prove myself creeps over me.

Theseus’s dark, smiling eyes swim before me, blurring abruptly into Hercules’s sharp gray ones. I’ve found the man I’m meant to love. And now, maybe, I need to unlearn some of Theseus’s teachings.

If I want to help Hercules, I need to use my true strengths. I need to be what he needs. And I know just where to start.

I knock lightly on Psyche’s door.

“Come in,” she calls. I push the door open. Psyche’s rooms look nothing like my own.

Where my rooms are draped in soft, light silks and the furniture is all deep, rich mahoganies, Psyche’s rooms are bold and bright. Throw rugs are hung on the wooden walls, patterns made of a hundred colors springing to life in the fabric. Her furniture is rough wood, bookshelves and tables looking like she may have made them herself. Weapons from all over Olympus adorn the rustic surfaces, spears made of wood and bows made of bone. Psyche is sitting on a bright purple armchair, braiding her thick black hair. She looks surprised to see me.

“Can I help you?” Her tone isn’t cold, but there’s no warmth either.

I swallow. “I’ve been thinking about what you said. On Libra.” Psyche raises her eyebrows, fingers still working on the tight braids. “You’re right. I want to be more useful to the crew.”

“Okay,” she says slowly.

I take a slow breath in, lifting my chest, wetting my lips. I pour my power into my voice. “Teach me to fight,” I say.

Psyche’s hands drop from her hair and she stares at me. “Really?”

“Yes. I need to be able to defend myself, to stop getting in your way.”

She stands, appraising me. “It’s a bit late to be asking now.”

“Not at all,” I say. “We’re leagues and leagues from Sagittarius. Theseus said it would take all night to get there.”

“And you want to train all night?” says Psyche, picking up a spear as she walks slowly toward me.

“No, but we could make a start. It’s just…” I look down, channeling innocence. “It’s just, you were so impressive with those arrows, against the Hydra. I wish I could help Theseus like that.” I look up again, hunting for signs that the flattery is working.

“I seem to remember you shouting Hercules’s name,” says Psyche, coming to a stop in front of me and setting the spear butt on the floor.

“I… I hate to see anyone hurt. I can’t help it.”

“Then you are ill-suited to fighting.”

“I can learn. The more I see it, the more I’ll cope,” I protest.

Psyche holds my gaze, saying nothing. There’s no sign that she finds me compelling. Maybe my powers of persuasion have waned, I haven’t used them for so long?

She steps toward me, tilting her chin down so her hair falls forward, brushing her cheek. “How much has Theseus told you about me?”

I frown. “Not a lot, only that he trusts you with his life.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Hedone. About my family. My husband.”

I raise my eyebrows. “You’re married?” Jealousy surges through me.

Psyche nods. “I am. Your powers won’t work on me.”

I start. “What… I’m not… Why would I—”

Psyche cuts off my spluttering. “If you truly want to learn to fight, then I will teach you. You do not need to seduce me into agreeing.” My face heats and I say nothing. “Do you want to learn?”

I nod.

Psyche tips the spear toward me. “Top deck, now,” she says.

Chapter 53

Evadne

Islide, as quietly as I can, out of the soft sheets. Hercules doesn’t stir. The cold air makes me shiver as I cross the room on silent feet.

Although the sky dims at night, it’s never properly dark in Olympus, so the room is lit well enough for me to see where I’m stepping. I pick up Hercules’s shirt, discarded on the floor, and pull it on over my head. I creep to the bedroom door, closing it quietly behind me, and make my way to the bar. Once I’ve lit a lantern, I pull Realms of Olympus by Apollodoros from one of the huge bookcases, then ease myself into the soft armchair, cross my legs beneath me, and begin to read the words under a detailed map of Olympus.

It was agreed, by all of the gods unanimously, that they would divide Olympus into equal realms. They could govern these realms as they pleased, choosing which races made their home within their boundaries and which races were welcome as guests. Realms could exist within earth, sea, or sky, and anything between could be used freely by mortals. Zeus claimed a realm first in the center of Olympus and, not willing to risk further warring between themselves (or indeed his mighty wrath), the other gods accepted this and claimed their own around his. Two created sky realms, Zeus and Athena; two created ocean realms, Poseidon and Hephaestus; and the rest created islands floating in unclaimed water. All realms have climates controlled by the gods, Apollo’s Capricorn typically experiencing the most extreme seasons. Four gods chose to forbid all but a few races from entering: Artemis, Hades, Aphrodite, and Hephaestus. Dionysus’s realm and Ares’s eponymous realm are forbidden to no creature but are generally considered too dangerous for most to visit.

I scan the words, stopping whenever I see Artemis or Sagittarius in the text. The best way I can prove my worth, outside of Hercules’s bedroom, is to know more about what we’re going into than anybody else. Hopefully, if I learn enough, I’ll get an opportunity to prove myself.

“We’re half an hour away.”

Asterion’s voice in my head jolts me out of a riveting account of the last mortal attempt to breach the border mountain range on Virgo. I hear Hercules stirring in the bedroom and stand, stretching my arms above my head. It’s still dark. Artemis said the Trial would be revealed at sunrise. Apollo, Artemis’s twin brother, controls sunrise and sunset, though Olympus has gone through many suns in its long life. Another nugget of information gleaned from good old Apollodoros. I reach down, pat the book on the chair fondly, and make my way back to my own quarters to dress.

When I arrive on the quarterdeck, Asterion and Hercules are already there, waiting expectantly for the flame dish to leap to life. I look out over the railings, past the ballista turrets and tall, triangular sails, at Sagittarius.

We’re hovering, maybe twenty feet from the ground, over bare, pale plains. Dusty, yellowing grass covers the flat expanse and low green hills rise up on all sides of us. Clouds glittering with orange and green swirl through the sky above me and I can smell the rich smell of soil. The Alastor, Virtus, and Orion are all moored over the same field, looming and quiet in the morning dusk.

Hercules doesn’t look at all like he nearly died the previous day. He stands tall, his muscular frame filling the black shirt he wears, his gray eyes reflecting the dancing orange flames. I felt every inch of his body last night, and only a few scars remain from Athena’s metal beasts. I know Zeus must have helped him. A thrill runs through me at the thought. The lord of the gods himself. Quite an ally.

The flames flash white, and Artemis appears in the dish. She doesn’t look older than fourteen, with no curves to her lithe body or lines on her honest face.

“Good day, heroes. I want you to catch my prize stag, Cerynea, on his way across Sagittarius. He is very fast, and you will need to use a longboat to keep up and navigate the route he takes across my realm. If you can’t catch him, then the first to make it across my realm after him will win. You must take the route he does, or you will be incapacitated. And ‘incapacitated’ means your longboat will disappear from under you, instantaneously, regardless of where you are when you break the rules. You have until sunset to prepare your vessels, though you may not leave the plains you are currently moored in. If this rule is broken, you will be executed, immediately.”

I swallow. It’s unnerving seeing the young girl talk so simply about death.

“Good luck, hunters, and I beg thee, do not break my rules.” She vanishes from the flames.

“It’s a race. In longboats,” I say.

Hercules nods, a smile spreading across his face. “And we have the best longboat silver can buy.”

Chapter 54

Lyssa

“Why didn’t I get the fucking longboat fixed!” It’s the third time I’ve yelled it, and it still isn’t making me feel any better.

“Captain, we have time to fix it—we’ll be fine,” Epizon tells me calmly.

“Fix it with what?” I kick moodily at the base of the flame dish, and it wobbles precariously.

“We have materials we took from Alexios’s ship, right, captain?” asks Lucas.

“Some, yes. We’ll need to do an inventory, as soon as possible.”

“Before you do, I have an idea.” He reaches into a deep pocket in his borrowed clothes and pulls out a scrap of paper and numerous colored charcoals.

“Where did he get those?” I mutter to Epizon.

“Len,” he mutters back.

Lucas starts scribbling frantically. “In fact, it’s a good thing that it’s broken,” he says, brows knitted together. “To do what I’m thinking, we’d pretty much have to destroy it to rebuild it anyway.”

“Lucas, we have one day. How much can we do in a day?”

He looks up from his drawing at me, eyes shining. “Plenty. This is going to be the best longboat you’ve ever flown.” He holds his drawing up. Len hustles forward to look and Alexios pushes himself off the quarterdeck railings, eyebrows raised.

“Are those red sails?” he asks.

“Yep.” Lucas beams.

“Rage-fueled sails?” I say slowly, bending to look closer at the drawing.

“Yep.”

“I couldn’t fuel a longboat with my Rage, unless I sailed it every day for a year to bond with it.”

“You can if it’s made from a ship you’re already bonded with.”

I step back, holding up my hands. “What? I’m not damaging the Alastor!”

“We’d just take a small amount of wood out of the back mast.”

I gape at the kid, then shake my head vehemently. The thought is unbearable. “No. No way. You can’t just pull bits off her.”

“We wouldn’t be pulling bits off her. We would be giving her an additional lease on life. On a smaller, more maneuverable vessel, still controlled by you—her captain. She’ll love it!” Lucas looks eagerly at me.

Alexios takes the paper from him and looks between it and me. “Your Rage makes the Alastor the fastest ship in Olympus. A race is your best shot at a win in this competition.” Pride in my ship tempers my outrage slightly.

“You can’t flatter me into destroying my own ship.”

Lucas leaps up. “Destroy her?” He looks genuinely horrified. “Oh no, Captain Lyssa, I swear, that would not be the case.”

“How can you cut out part of the mast without causing damage?” I demand.

“We’d cut small sections in a spiral up and around it. It won’t affect the integrity at all. And it might even look quite good.” He takes the paper back off Alexios and scribbles a sketch of the mast on the edge of the paper, marking where he wants to cut.

Cut. Cut into the wood of the Alastor… I look beseechingly at Epizon, speaking into his mind. “Ep, I don’t have to do this, right?”

“No. You never have to do anything you don’t want to. But a rage-fueled longboat is a genius idea, and the kid’s enough of a ship enthusiast that he might be able to pull it off. Fate may have delivered you an asset here, Lyssa. You should consider using him.”

“But… Cut…” I whisper aloud as I glare at the drawing.

Epizon coughs. “Captain, why don’t you think about it while we repair the sails and inventory the materials? We need sails, no matter what,” he says.

“That’s true,” Lucas agrees.

I give a nod, and everyone except Alexios heads off toward the hauler.

A small whimper escapes me, involuntarily.

“He won’t hurt your ship. He’s a clever kid.”

“I didn’t ask for your opinion.”

“That will never stop me giving it—you know that, right?”

He’s wearing his charming, boyish grin, and the desire to punch him in the nose grows.

I turn to the mast and lay my hands on it. Can I seek her permission? The ship doesn’t speak with me. She elevates me. She frees me. She powers me, as I power her. But she doesn’t use words, doesn’t communicate directly.

Would you like a “new lease on life”? I try to project the idea into the wood. Would it even work, taking a piece of you and putting into a smaller boat?

A tiny surge of heat ripples under my hands.

I press my forehead to the wood. Lucas ended up on this ship by complete chance. My reluctant admiration for the kid made me keep him here. Now, I have to trust that it’s all for a reason.

My gut wrenches as the small axe bites into the Alastor’s mast with a thunk. Epizon looks guiltily at me as he pulls the steel from the wood. I want to give him a reassuring look back but can’t.

He swings the axe again, and I look away, glaring at the deck. I repeat what I’ve been telling myself for hours.

When we’re finished we’ll have an unbelievably powerful longboat, faster than any of our rivals, but still firmly a part of my ship.

I cling to the words, praying Lucas is right, and that we aren’t damaging her. A Rage-fueled longboat won’t just help us in this race. It could be the edge we need throughout all the Trials.

But if it doesn’t work and it damages my bond with the Alastor, then I’ll never forgive him. Or myself.

“Len, you nearly done with the sail?” I call.

“Almost, cap.”

Alexios and I have finished patching the hull with bits of wood scavenged from the cargo deck, and now he and Lucas are wrenching out the old benches.

“Sagittarius is warm,” Alexios announces, then stands up straight in the middle of the boat and strips his shirt off.

He’s not wrong. It is warm, as the sweat glistening on his muscled chest attests to.

I grind my teeth and turn to the pale, and not even slightly sweating, Lucas. “Benches,” I say to him.

“Yes, captain. I’m thinking that you should have one wide one across the middle, behind the mast, and then leave the rest as space for whatever you might be transporting or traveling with.”

I nod, trying to ignore Alexios behind him, running his hand through his long hair, biceps flexing.

It’s been a long time since I felt the sweat on a man’s chest. Even longer since I felt my own sweat on a man’s chest.

Fucking peacock! Ignore him! I berate myself.

I hop up onto the crate we’re using as a step, then climb into the boat, trying to avoid eye contact with Alexios. “Yes, just one bench here, near the mast,” I clarify.

“How’d it get so beat up in the first place?” Alexios asks, and I’m forced to look at him. He puts both hands on his hips, drawing my gaze down. His shirt is now hanging from where he’s tucked it into his waistband. His skin is smooth and tanned, and the muscles of his stomach are clearly defined. “A torn-up sail and a huge hole in the side isn’t your standard wear and tear.”

I look back at his face and pray my cheeks aren’t flushed. “Delivery job gone wrong.” I shrug, then wince at the thunking sound of the axe in the background.

“What were you delivering?”

“Don’t know. We don’t ask.”

“Doesn’t that bother you?” he asks, his eyebrows drawing together. Guilty defensiveness springs up around me.

“If everyone sticks to the code then we shouldn’t need to ask,” I snap. “Len, where’s the sail?”

“Down here, cap,” the satyr calls. “I’ve cut it to size and sealed the edges.” I climb back out of the boat and retrieve the sail from Len. It’s heavy, but I don’t need to rile myself up to get the strength to lift it. Alexios has done that for me. I throw it up over the edge of the boat, a satisfied smile spreading over my face when Alexios grunts.

“Sorry,” I lie as I climb back in.

“I’m sure you are.” He rubs at his pec, and his eyes are shining. “Want to kiss it better?”

“Fates, how old are you? And has that line ever actually worked?”

“Yes. Many times. And I only said it because I knew it would piss you off.”

Annoyance makes me bold. “So, you wouldn’t want me to kiss it better?” I put one hand on my own hip, jutting my chest out, and feel a jolt of satisfaction at the flicker of surprise on his face.

The satisfaction morphs fast into alarm, though, as his eyes darken and his smile changes.

Shit. Don’t play with fire, Lyssa, or you’ll get burned.

“Come here and find out?”

“Abso-fucking-lutely not.” I grab the mast, preparing to climb up with the sail over my shoulder.

“Captain!” Len’s voice sounds urgently in my head as well as out loud, below the boat.

“What’s wrong?” I say, dropping the sail and vaulting over the edge of the boat. My breath catches as I land.

“We… we have a visitor,” he says. I follow his pointing arm and see a centaur standing on the deck of the Alastor.

Lots of female centaurs wanted Cyllarus’s affections, but he was only interested in Hylonome. She was the prettiest of all the half beasts in the forests. She won him by loving him and telling him so. They did everything together, roaming lands, exploring caves, and fighting, side by side.

In one fight Cyllarus was wounded, in the heart. Hylonome put her hand on the wound and kissed him, trying to stop his last breath from leaving him. When she realized he was dead, she took the weapon that had killed him and used it upon herself, falling on her husband’s body.

EXCERPT FROM

Metamorphoses by Ovid Written 8 A.D.

Paraphrased by Eliza Raine

Chapter 55

Lyssa

The centaur bows her head, and I take a hesitant step forward.

She’s breathtaking.

She has a sleek mahogany mare’s body, smaller but more agile-looking than the warriors we saw at the feast. Her pale white chest is clad in shining steel armor with massive shoulder plates laid over leather gauntlets that wrap around her arms. More shining plates are strapped across her human waist, hanging down to protect her flanks, and two long scabbards run behind them. But most striking is the mane of white hair flowing from her steel headband down her back and spilling over her dark coat, matching her tail perfectly.

“How did you—”

“Captain Lyssa. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Hylonome-Nestor-Cyllarus.” Her serious face barely moves as she speaks, and I can’t make out what color her eyes are. I take another step forward.

“Erm,” I say.

“You may call me Nestor.”

I nod. “How did you get on my ship?”

“I have Artemis’s blessing.”

I swallow. If a goddess has sanctioned this visit, the centaur is going to get what she wants. “And how can I help you?”

Nestor’s tail flicks. “Actually, it is I who can help you. You and your crew were present when my love was slain.” A sick feeling swamps my gut as I work out what she must mean. The only centaur I have seen killed was at the feast. “Hercules killed Cyllarus, my husband, and you want Hercules dead. I am here to help you.”

“I’m sorry for your loss, Nestor, I truly am. I know how it feels to lose somebody you love.” I look down a moment, forcing the sound of the centaur’s legs snapping out of my mind. Please let her husband have been one of the other two poor creatures, I pray silently. “How can you help us?” I ask.

“I will join your crew and make sure Hercules dies during the Trials.”

I blink. “Join the crew?”

Nestor says nothing.

“But…” I can’t take on another crew member. I don’t even want Alexios on board, and a centaur simply won’t fit on the Alastor.

“I can fight. I have knowledge passed down over many generations, some of which I can share with you. I have the favor of Artemis.”

I take a long breath. “I need to talk with my crew first.”

Nestor nods. “I will return in one hour.” She vanishes with a small flash of light, and Len lets out a long whistle.

“Wow.”

“Wow,” echoes Alexios, still in the longboat. Lucas is staring, wide-eyed, at the spot she was standing in.

“Was that a centaur?” Epizon is jogging across the deck toward me. “Captain, my eyes weren’t playing tricks, were they? Was a centaur just on the ship?”

“Yes.” I don’t know what else to say.

“What did she want?” Epizon’s eyes are alive with excitement as he reaches me.

“Her husband was killed at the feast. She wants to join the crew to try to get revenge on Hercules. By killing him.”

Epizon’s mouth falls open. “A centaur on our crew! Captain, this is incredible!”

“Slow down, Epizon. The Alastor is at capacity. We don’t have the space for a centaur on board. We don’t have the supplies for another crew member. We don’t know anything about her.” I shoot a look at Alexios. “And she hasn’t earned a place on this crew.”

“Lyssa, if anyone has earned a place fighting at your side, it’s somebody who has lost a loved one to Hercules.” Epizon used my name instead of captain, in his excitement. I frown at him.

“Her desire for revenge might make her do something stupid,” I say.

Alexios coughs, and I glare at him.

“Something to say, peacock?”

“Just a tickle. In my throat.” He smiles. Barely moving his lips, he adds, “You’re not stupid. But you are obsessed.”

“Obsessed? How in Hades do you think you would feel if your whole family were—”

Epizon cuts me off. “That’s my point—the centaur knows exactly how you feel, captain,” he says, visibly trying to suppress his excitement but failing. “Centaurs are some of the best fighters in Olympus, and not prone to acting irrationally, but her motivation will be unquestionable.”

“Where, exactly, do you suggest she sleeps?” I ask him sardonically.

He glances around the deck and frowns. “Cargo deck?”

“With our other unexpected guest?” I mutter.

“Unwise,” says Len.

Everyone falls silent, and I drag my hand over my face as Epizon stares at me, hopefully.

This is honestly the last thing I need right now. But how the fuck am I supposed to say no?

“I’ll think about it. Now, everybody back to work. Get on with ruining my ship.”

Chapter 56

Hercules

“Captain, there must be something useful we could be doing with our time.” Evadne twirls her hair around her finger as she speaks, watching it change between black and blue as it moves in the warm daylight.

“Our longboat is in perfect condition, and we have the new slingshots. There is nothing we need to do.” I’m sitting in my captain’s chair on the quarterdeck, my face tilted up toward the sun.

“I wonder how the others are getting on, improving their boats,” she says. “Shame they were given time to make improvements. You could even say it’s not really fair, when we took the time to make ours perfect before the Trials began.” She glances at me.

I stand slowly, stretching, and walk to the railings, making sure my boots thud on the planks as I go. The Whirlwind-class ship’s high quarterdeck means I have an excellent view of the decks of the much lower Alastor and Virtus, but the giant’s huge Zephyr rises just above them, out of sight.

“Looks like Captain Lyssa’s longboat is being patched together out of rags and broken planks. I don’t think we’ve much to worry about there. I can’t see Theseus himself, but his longboat is up on deck. I wonder what’s happening on the Orion? It’s frustrating we can’t see from here,” the girl says.

My eyes roam the deck of the Virtus once more, looking for Hedone. I don’t see her, but she’s there somewhere. So close. And the girl is right—we do have time to spare, given that our longboat is already perfect.

“Evadne, I have an idea,” I say.

“Yes, captain?”

“Artemis said we could use this whole area. And there are three other ships in this area. I think that sounds like an invitation.”

She raises her eyebrows innocently. “An invitation?”

“Why don’t we pay the others a little visit, and see firsthand how they’re getting on?”

“I take it we will be undoing their hard work?” she asks with a smile.

“Of course.” She will be, anyway. I have more pleasurable plans in mind. “I’ll go to the Virtus. You go to the Alastor,” I say. Annoyance flickers on her face, but she replaces it quickly with a meek expression. Good. She’s learning.

“We can see from here that the Alastor is no threat. Wouldn’t it be better to find out what’s happening on the Orion?”

I look back out at the Alastor. It’s easy to make out the small boat they’ve set up on the top deck, and two figures fighting to attach a sail to the single mast.

“Fine,” I say. “Go to the Orion. Do what you can to impede their progress.”

“Of course. I’ll leave now,” she says.

“Asterion, prepare the longboat,” I call out, then look at Evadne. “Yes, you should. It’ll take you a while on foot.”

She gapes at me. “On foot? I’ll never get up onto the Orion on foot. I’ll wait and go when you return from the Virtus.”

“No, you’ll go now. On foot.”

Her eye twitches as she stares at me, trying to control her tongue, no doubt.

I watch her, a lazy smile taking my lips.

“Yes, captain,” she grinds out eventually, and wheels away, toward the steps that lead down from the quarterdeck.

Triumph washes through me. My lessons are paying off. She is definitely learning.

I keep my longboat low to the ground as I approach the Virtus, trusting that the ship’s long front sail will keep me from view. The thought of Hedone when I last saw her, the desire obvious in her intense, dark eyes, makes me will the boat on faster. As I come up alongside the ship, I turn to the Minotaur.

“Come back for me in one hour.”

“Yes, captain.” Asterion nods.

I reach out of the longboat, grab the edge of a ballista window, and pull myself easily up and through, onto the Virtus. The weapons room is empty of people, just housing the long row of massive wooden crossbows lining the edge and the barrels filled with lead shot beside them. I’ve been on Typhoon-class ships before, and they have lots of space dedicated to living quarters. With only four crew members needing rooms, most of them will be empty, but I need to be sure I find Hedone without letting anyone else know I’m here. I’ll find her rooms, and if she isn’t there, I’ll wait for her. I’m not leaving the Virtus without knowing the feel of those beautiful lips on mine.

I creep out of the ballista room and turn down the wood-paneled corridor, toward the back of the ship. It smells different to my ship—a citrus scent lingering in the air. Does it smell like her? I hurry past a series of open doors until I hear voices. I stop and press myself against the wall, listening. There’s the steady clinking of metal and the noise of water splashing. I’ve found the galley.

“Here, I can wash that up for you. It’s the least I can do.” The soft, husky voice belongs to Hedone. My muscles constrict slightly.

“It’s fine. You’re getting better, you know. Not with the knife, perhaps, but at least you can lift a spear and aim a slingshot now,” an older female voice replies.

“The slingshot is easiest. I don’t have to be near my opponent.”

“If you’re half decent, then you don’t need to be near them to use a spear, either. We’ll start again in three hours, when that meal’s gone down. Go and get some rest.”

“Okay.” There’s the sound of wood scraping on wood, and I hold my breath as a door a few feet ahead of me swings open. Hedone sweeps out, turning in the opposite direction to me and making her way down the hallway. She’s wearing a tight leather fighting vest, much like Evadne’s but filled out in all the right places, and dark leather trousers. Joining her vest to her trousers at the back are flowing ribbons of sheer turquoise silk, looking remarkably like wings. Even in fighting garb she looks like a goddess. She holds her arm out as she walks, running her fingers along the dark wood, humming softly. I let out my breath slowly and creep after her.

We walk past another four doors, and then she pushes one open and goes inside. I give her as long as I dare and then go in after her. I find myself in a lounge that looks a little like my own, save for the white silk draped over the mahogany walls, softening everything. There’s a large white daybed by a low table in the center of the room, and a well-stocked bar and bookcases against one wall. Hedone isn’t in the room, though. I can hear her humming through the open door at the back of the living room. I step quietly across the room. She’s leaning over a huge bed, almost as large as my own, pulling back sheets and arranging cushions.

Lust pulses through me. I take one long stride through the open door, and as I come up behind her, I cover her mouth and spin her to face me. Her wide-eyed panic gives way immediately as she sees me, and I move my hand from her mouth to her cheek.

“Hedone,” I breathe.

“Hercules,” she whispers back. “How did you—”

“I have one hour.” She lets out a breath as I push my hand into her soft hair, my thumb stroking her jaw. “You are so incredibly beautiful,” I tell her. Her face breaks into a smile.

“Wait, I have to tell you something,” she says. I softly tilt her head to one side, exposing her long white neck. I lean forward and kiss the bare skin. Goosebumps rise across her neck instantly, and she gasps. “I heard Aphrodite and Theseus talking. They said Zeus had to deal with something to do with Hades and that he wouldn’t be able to help you,” she says in a rush. I straighten, meeting her eyes.

“I don’t need any help.”

“But I can help you,” she says, staring up at me. “Please. Let me help you.” I could spend forever lost in those deep, intoxicating eyes. “I can make you feel better than you ever dreamed possible.” Her voice is breathy and deep, and she has that dark, hungry look again. Every part of my body responds to her immediately as she pushes me gently onto the bed and brings her soft lips to mine.

Chapter 57

Evadne

Hercules is going to take his time on the Virtus, no doubt. My fists clench as I remember how he looked at Hedone at the feast. Two can play at that game, I think, grabbing a coarse coil of rope up off the deck and tying it to the metal railing.

I throw the rope over the edge of the Hybris and climb over the railing. Carefully coiling a length around my wrist, I test the rope with both hands. Satisfied it will hold my weight, I ease myself over the edge of the ship, the flats of my feet against the sheer metal plating of the hull. I begin to walk down the metal, one hand moving over the other on the harsh rope.

Does he think I’ll fail to reach their boat on foot? Or is he testing me?

No, I know what he’s doing. He’s proving that he controls my actions. That I have no choice but to follow his orders. A snarl escapes my lips. I’ll prove how much he needs me.

When I’m a few feet from the bottom and the hull begins to curve away beneath me, I let go, landing softly with my knees bent. The smell of soil is stronger on the ground, and I take a moment’s pleasure in feeling it beneath my feet. Yellowing grass crunches as I walk toward the Zephyr. Not all of Sagittarius is this hot, I’ve read. Some areas are shaded forest, and I’m sure there’s a mountain range on the island somewhere. Mountains are usually colder, I think, though in Olympus you can never assume anything.

What looked like a short distance from the high quarterdeck feels like miles to me in the hot sun. I’m regretting the black leather vest I’m wearing as I trudge across the dry ground, the Orion looming larger as I approach.

I study the long wooden planks of the hull, lined with portholes and ballista windows, trying to figure out the best way to sneak on board. It doesn’t look like I’ll be able to climb all the way up onto the deck—the ship is too large, and anyone on either of the two quarterdecks will spot me when I reach the top. I decide I’ll climb to one of the ballista windows and pray that I can squeeze through the gap between the weapon and the frame.

It isn’t until I’m a lot closer that I realize most of the ballista windows are empty. That’s interesting. The Orion hasn’t equipped most of their guns, which means either they can’t afford to, or they have weapons elsewhere. I’ll need to tell Hercules this.

The Zephyr is hovering ten feet off the dry grass, and I curse my captain under my breath when I jump for the bottom of the ship and fail to get a grip for the third time. Panting, I crouch down on the balls of my feet and count backward from three, before launching myself up again. This time I get my fingers into the gaps between the lowest planks, and I hiss in pain as my fingernail tears on the rough wood. I don’t let go, though, pulling my legs up after me, trying to get purchase on the hull.

I ignore the pain in my finger as I climb, slowly and carefully, to the nearest ballista window. Peering cautiously around the edge of the frame, I check the room beyond is empty and silently ease my way through the window and onto the wooden floor. I’m in the enormous cargo deck, I realize, looking around at dusty crates lining the hull. It’s nothing like the cargo deck on the Hybris. For one, it barely has anything in it, despite being three or four times the size. The ceiling is probably double the height of the Hybris’s, I estimate as I creep toward the hauler in the middle of the other wall.

My mind whirs as I realize I should have come up with a plan, instead of seething about Hercules for the last forty minutes.

If all the giants are up on deck with their longboat, how am I going to pull off a sabotage attempt?

I’ll have to take an opportunity as I find one, I suppose. I swallow down a tendril of fear as I imagine the big captain dropping me over the edge of the deck if he catches me. No way I’d survive that hard ground.

Don’t get caught, then, dummy, I tell myself.

I creep along floor after floor, looking for a quiet way up to the top deck, where I assume they will have their longboat. Hopefully unguarded.

“Antaeus? How’s it going with the—” The sentence cuts short as I pass an open door.

Shit! I throw myself against the wall, heart hammering in my chest, but I’m too late.

“You! What are you doing here?”

I let out a breath. It could be worse. The voice belongs to Eryx.

“Shh,” I hush him, slipping into the room and quietly closing the wooden door behind me. Time for a new plan. “You’ll give me away.”

His face is furious as he stares at me from a massive bed. I take in the thick bandages around his chest and frown.

“Wow. I saw what happened with the Hydra in the flame dish. I have to admit, you were pretty impressive.” I walk toward the bed, and he struggles to sit up. “I didn’t realize you were injured, though. Are you all right?”

“You shouldn’t be here!” he snaps, pushing his loose hair back from his face self-consciously. I haven’t seen it out of its usual knot before. I smile and sit on the edge of his bed.

“I know.” I lean over, picking up a mostly empty glass of sludge. He tenses as I tilt it from side to side before sniffing it. “Gods, that smells vile,” I exclaim.

“It is. Why are you here?”

“Maybe I wanted to talk to you.” I look him in the eye.

He crosses his arms across his chest and flinches.

“I doubt that very much,” he snarls.

I shrug and look absently around the room.

“Talk to me about what?” he asks eventually.

It’s almost too easy to play him. The tiniest coil of guilt tries to worm its way through my stomach, but I squish it instantly.

“About the Hydra. About how brave you were.” I smile at him. “It really was impressive.” My long ponytail falls across my bare shoulder as I cock my head at him. He swallows as he follows the movement down to the tight leather vest I’m wearing. “Eyes up, big boy,” I say. His face flushes immediately, and I laugh. “Well, at least you’re getting some color back.”

“I’m not talking to you. You shouldn’t be here. Leave, now.”

“You’re always saying that to me.” I pout.

“You’re always in places you shouldn’t be!” he snaps. “Why are you really here?”

“I told you, to talk to you. I want to know more about you.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“I don’t care. Tell me about your father.”

“If you want to know about Poseidon, you’ve picked the wrong giant to talk to. I don’t know anything about him.” He looks down angrily at his folded arms as he speaks.

“Why not?” I push.

“Because that’s how it works. Poseidon, Zeus, Hermes—all of them. In fact, I don’t think there’s a male god who hasn’t got abandoned children all over Olympus, except maybe Hades.”

Excellent. I’ve found one weak spot. Now to fish for information that might help later.

“What about Aquarius? Have you been there?”

He nods. “I grew up there. Then I moved to Aries when my mother died.” He trails off and drops my gaze. The guilt worm tries again. It’s a little harder to squash this time, but hey, we’ve all got dead parents.

“Aries, huh? Dangerous place, I’ve heard,” I say eventually. He looks up at me, pushing his chin out.

“Not for a champion boxer.”

“Ah, you had a taste for life as a gladiator, did you?”

“Gladiators fight because they have to; boxers fight because they’re good at it,” he says, and then frowns. His eyes narrow and he tilts his head, staring at me. “Speaking of fighting, who did you have a bout with?” he says, voice low.

This time I blush. And I fucking hate blushing.

I stand, awkward. I thought I had enough powder on to hide the bruised cheek.

“None of your business.”

“He hits you.” It’s not a question. I turn to the door.

“You really were impressive in the Hydra trial,” I say over my shoulder.

“Why would a man as strong and powerful as Hercules need to hit a woman?” he growls.

Power. Pleasure. Sadism.

I say nothing, but the anger in his tone makes my feet stop.

Eryx is soft. Naïve. He won’t understand that it’s the price I pay for the goal I’m chasing. One I’m willing to pay.

But, for a beat, the thought of someone being angry that I’m in pain causes the unfamiliar feeling of doubt to course through me.

“I walked into something,” I say quietly.

Eryx lets out a long growl, and I turn back to him. His expression is livid.

“You should leave him.”

I snort. “And lose a shot at immortality?” I shake my head. “Not a chance.”

Now he looks even angrier, his bandaged chest rigid and his broad cheeks ruddy.

“Why in the name of all the gods would you want to live forever with a man so cruel? Do you not understand that if you win, he’s immortal too?”

I shrug. “Olympus is a big place. I can always leave later, if I want to.”

Something dark flashes in his eyes, and when he speaks, it’s with low resignation. “You love him.”

To my surprise, emotion grips my chest. I do a very, very good job of suppressing emotion. What the fuck is this overprotective lummox who barely knows me doing, messing that up?

“No,” I whisper. I don’t know why I’m still talking.

He fixes his gaze on mine. “You don’t love him?”

I shake my head and repeat myself. “No.”

“So, it’s all for immortality?”

“Yes. I’m a grown-ass woman, Eryx. I’m choosing this. I can take care of myself.”

“He’s a filthy piece of shit, and I would love nothing more than to tear his throat out if he ever lays a finger on you again,” he growls, and I can’t help the surge of something that bolts through me. Is it longing? Do I actually want someone to take care of me? To protect me?

But I know how that goes. It’s always the same. I end up alone, and only I can be responsible for myself. I can only trust myself. That’s how it has to be.

“I’m in control,” I say. I think about the last few days, and crush down the feeling that that may not be true.

“He’s more than ten times stronger than you, and a masochist!” Eryx half shouts, and slams his fist down on the mattress beside him. He gives a bark of pain and clutches his ribs, and I’m at his side before I realize I’ve moved.

I just stop myself from reaching out to him. “You all right?” I mutter instead.

“No,” he snaps, his scarred face screwed up in pain. “And you won’t be if you don’t get off his ship.”

I sigh and step back. “What I do with my life is up to me, big boy,” I say, slipping back into my cocky tone. “But thanks for the concern. Now, I’d better be going.”

“I’m going to tell Antaeus you’re here. Right now,” he says.

I pout at him. “But where’s the fun in that?”

“Your reason for being on my ship can only be to cause damage. That’s what you do, manipulate, lie, and cause damage.” He’s still glaring, but now the anger is directed at me. “I guess you’re right. You do belong on the Hybris.”

The slight sting from his words makes me realize that I’ve fallen too far into this conversation. I’ve let slip too much.

“Give me a five-minute head start,” I say with a coy smile.

“If he catches you, he will throw you straight over the side,” Eryx says.

“You wouldn’t let him do that,” I coo.

He gestures down at his bandages. “You think I can stop him?”

His face is stone, and I think he might actually be telling the truth. “Fine. I’m going.”

“Go fast. And don’t come back.”

Chapter 58

Lyssa

There’s no way around it. I’ll have to welcome the centaur onto the Alastor.

For an hour I’ve been trying to work out a solution to Nestor’s proposition, but I can’t shift the memory of the feast, the sound of the centaur’s legs breaking, the maniacal look on Hercules’s face.

Epizon is right. There’s nobody in Olympus who shares Nestor’s pain or need for revenge more than I do. And anyway, if Artemis wants her on the ship, then she’ll end up on the ship regardless.

I’m standing with my back to the rails a few feet from Alexios, leaning on my elbows, waiting for the centaur to return, and trying not to glare at the back mast, where Epizon and Lucas are pulling off the final piece they’ve cut.

Restlessness winning, I push myself off the rail and hesitantly step toward the mast. Alexios moves with me, but keeps his distance, and I’m grateful for the space. As much space as is possible between us, anyway.

“Are you done?” I ask as Lucas and Epizon move toward the longboat.

“Yes, captain. This is it,” Lucas says, waving a small patch of wood at me. “I’ll attach it now, and then you can test it.” His voice is brimming with excitement.

Epizon lets him hurry off, and looks between me and the mast. He gestures at it, and I take a deep breath before moving closer.

It now has shallow, square patches of wood missing in a neat line spiraling up the pole like steps. If I’m being completely honest, there is something aesthetically pleasing about it. But not enough to make me comfortable with there being holes in the mast of my ship.

I almost don’t want to touch the mast, just in case. In case my bond is damaged, or broken. In case my ship is angry with me. My crew may believe it was a risk worth taking, but they don’t know the Alastor like I do.

I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and lay my hand on the wood, concentrating.

The thriving hum of the ship fills me at once, the sense of the massive sails and unending sky fierce and strong.

Relief washes through me as I break the connection, my hand dropping back to my side. They were right. Thank the Fates. Lucas was right.

I let out a long breath. Now let’s just hope he’s right about the longboat too.

“Everything good, captain?” Epizon asks.

I turn to him with a small smile. “Yup.”

“Good. Now, let’s finish this longboat.” He moves across the deck quickly to help Lucas, and I lean my shoulder against the mast. For the first time, some excitement replaces the fear. If I can Rage-power the little boat… It would be like having a miniature Alastor.

A small flash of white light catches my attention, and I turn to where Nestor is now standing on the deck, exactly where she was before. The centaur bows her head.

“Captain Lyssa,” she says.

“Nestor.” I incline my head in return. “Welcome back.” I’ve barely finished the sentence before Epizon has bounded across the deck. He bows low to her.

“Welcome,” he breathes reverently. Len and Lucas materialize either side of us.

“I have decided to accept your help, with gratitude,” I say to her.

She dips her head again. “You will not regret it. I will make sure your father does not see the end of the Trials.”

My fists clench at my sides as anger shoots through my body. “I appreciate the conviction, but do not refer to him as my father.”

Nestor flicks her tail. “I do not understand. Is my knowledge of your family incorrect?”

“No. But we refer to him as Hercules, or ‘that monstrous fucking asshole,’ here. Not as my father.” The word tastes sour on my lips as I spit it.

Nestor says nothing a moment, then blinks. “I see. It may take me a short while to understand some of the customs on this ship. We are a private race, and unfamiliar with the ways of modern humans.”

“Epizon and Len will fill you in, I’m sure. In the meantime, I am your captain. You obey all direct orders from me while you’re on the Alastor.”

“I understand.”

I throw a glare at Alexios. “See? She understands.”

“You two are in love, yes? You do not appear to be. Are you currently disagreeing?”

I put my hands on my hips and look skyward. Fucking Artemis, and fucking Athena, and fucking… all of them. My crew has gone from three to six in under a week, and all my privacy is gone. Evaporated. Stolen, by bored fucking gods.

I’m not going to be able to keep secrets from someone living on my own ship.

“I need a drink.” I say the words to the clouds above me. It’s an under-exaggeration. I need more than a drink. So much more.

My entire life has been turned upside down. I need a blowout. I need to explode. I need to take my ship and blast through the skies until there’s no energy left.

“You need to win the next trial,” says Nestor. “Drinking will probably not help.”

“Lucas?” I look at him. “You’re going to have to share quarters with Len so Nestor has a room.”

“What?” Len protests instantly. Lucas looks at the satyr awkwardly. “So because I’m the smallest, I have to share?” Len scrapes his hooves on the deck.

“No. You have to share because I’m already sharing,” I growl, glaring at Alexios, “and Epizon is second-in-command.”

Epizon looks at Lucas. “Maybe you can share with me, Lucas. Satyrs get up to some… unsavory things in private. And Len’s room looks and smells like a forest.”

The little satyr begins a tirade of spluttering indignation, and I shoot Epizon a grateful look. Lucas beams at him.

“Thank you, Epizon. I’ll not get in your way.”

“I am sorry for causing disruption to you and your crew,” says Nestor, formally. We all look at her.

“It’s fine,” says Epizon quickly. “Do you have belongings to move onto the ship? We have a large cargo deck to store them if so.”

In which we’re hiding a mysterious psychic creature we stole from a vampire.

I suppress a groan.

“No,” Nestor answers solemnly. “All of my belongings are tied too closely with Cyllarus. They are safe here on Sagittarius until I avenge him and can take pleasure in them once more.”

Well, Nestor is definitely going to change the mood on board the Alastor.

“In that case, captain, we’re ready for you to try the longboat,” says Len, still throwing affronted looks at Epizon.

“Good.” I’m anxious to see if the plan with the longboat has worked.

I hop up on the crate and into the longboat, Alexios behind me. The sail is up, the bench secured and the mast clad in the slightly dark patches of wood from the Alastor, in the same spiral shape.

I lay my hand on the mast and will the boat up. It responds instantly, rising from the deck of the Alastor by a foot. I let go of the mast and the ship hovers in place. So far, so good. I move along the boat, checking the repairs we’ve made to the hull.

“Let me know if you need any help getting angry, darling,” Alexios says, smiling.

I roll my eyes at him and reach out for the mast, then close my eyes and concentrate.

I need nothing to fuel the Rage today. Unspent energy thrums through my body, flowing fast and powerful. I will the ship higher and hear Alexios suck in a breath as we shoot up. A broad smile splits my face as the wind whips through my hair, and we soar skyward.

“Lyssa!”

I open my eyes. Alexios is on the planks in the bottom of the boat. I slow our movement, looking up at the blood-red sail.

It worked. It actually fucking worked.

I laugh. “Lucas is a little genius!”

But now… Now I want to fly. I want to soar. I want to move so fast nobody can catch me, so fast nobody can force me to do anything I don’t want to. I want to be free.

“Gods, I wish you would warn me if you’re going to do that,” says Alexios.

My eyes move to him, fixing on the rise and fall of his still-bare chest, the beads of sweat glistening on his skin. Power flows through me like electricity, into the wood, my own skin humming and heating.

For a moment, I want to toy with him. To drop the boat and watch him scream as we plummet back toward the ground. I want him on his backside before me, calling me captain. Epizon isn’t here to cut in, to stop me, to remind me what’s important. I can show this arrogant prick that he should respect me.

“I don’t need to warn you of anything, Alexios. You’re in my world now, and you’ll fucking do as I say.” Even I can hear the power, the command in my words. For a second, I’m alarmed by it. But then I see his face change as he stares up at me.

“Do you know what you look like?” he breathes.

I don’t need to ask what he means. His pupils are dilated, eyes hungry, and I can see the straining fabric in his trousers.

I grip the mast, feet planted, hair whipping around my face, as something happens to my insides that I do not understand, but am shocked to find that I do not want to stop.

Desire. It’s flowing through my body like the Rage does. A burning desire for control, for release, for just a few minutes of blessed relief from this constant energy.

“Tell me,” I say. I don’t know why I say it. But I do.

“You look like a fucking goddess.”

“And would you do what a goddess told you to do?”

“Right now, yes. I’ll do whatever the fuck you tell me to do.”

“Get on your knees.”

He does. Instantly. Hot, pulsing need pools between my legs, and I’m too caught up, too deep in this surreal haze, to remember that I hate him.

“Take it out on me, Lyssa. Make me pay for what I’ve done to you.” He reaches out, gripping my hips, and stares up into my face.

Fuck. I could. I could take back control, some of the freedom this asshole has taken from me, and make him pay.

“Tell me what to do,” he breathes. “I’ll do it.”

How good would it feel to make this arrogant prick serve me, to take me somewhere where I get to forget for a few minutes? And then… what? Leave him unspent, longing. But what control would that really give me? It wouldn’t change anything.

I breathe hard as I stare into his eyes. I think I can see desperation in them.

No, as soon as whatever this is ends, he’ll be back to the cocky peacock, I’m certain. But for a short time, I could flip this.

My body is screaming at me. The energy, previously anger, has now morphed into something reaching the ends of my fingertips and toes, setting every nerve alight.

I reach out and gently grip his chin, tilting his head back. “Anything?”

“Anything,” he rasps.

My head fills with images. He’s on his knees in them all. I imagine him burying his face between my legs, his cock straining in his pants, untouched, as he uses that infernal fucking tongue of his for some good.

Epizon’s words filter through my haze. “Captain, you’re too high. Artemis told us not to leave the plains—you need to come back down.”

Artemis. The Trials.

I take my hand from the mast and lean over the edge of the boat. He’s right—we are high. The Alastor is far below us, looking tiny so close to the other, larger ships.

“Lyssa, please don’t risk Artemis executing us. Especially as I reckon we can actually win this one.”

Sense forces its way through the desire. Slowly, I begin to lower the boat. “Epizon says we have to go back,” I say, my voice hoarse.

Alexios’s grip on my hips tightens, and for a long moment, we just stare at each other. “Don’t think this is over,” he says eventually. “Captain.”

The Stag

The Cerynean stag was sacred to Artemis and had golden horns. Hercules chased it for a full year. Eventually the stag took refuge on a mountain and Hercules shot and wounded it as it crossed a stream. He was now able to catch it, and he threw it over his shoulders and started to head back, but Artemis and her brother Apollo stopped him, angry that he had tried to kill the sacred animal.

EXCERPT FROM

The Library by Apollodorus Written 300-100 B.C.

Paraphrased by Eliza Raine

Chapter 59

Lyssa

“Are you ready for this?” Epizon asks quietly. We’re standing together on the deck, watching the purple twilight sky slowly getting darker.

I have done everything in my power to make sure Alexios and I haven’t been alone since I touched the longboat back down on the deck.

But my body is still alight with whatever this new energy is. It can’t just be desire. I’ve felt arousal before, and this isn’t that. It’s like it’s mixed with my Rage power and made something… new. Something only that fucking fool could create, by being so utterly repulsive, and so utterly beautiful at the same time.

I throw a glare at him, but he’s staring out over the railings at the Hybris, Bassari swishing his tail next to him.

“Lyssa?”

I look back at Epizon. “Of course I am.”

He looks between me and Alexios. “Something happen with you two?” There’s a dangerous, protective tone to his voice, and I lay my hand on his shoulder.

“No.”

“Good. Who do you want with you in the longboat for the race?”

“Nobody,” I say, then sigh and jerk my head backward at the peacock. “Except him, obviously. The lighter the boat, the better.”

Epizon nods. “If you’re channeling Rage and steering at the same time, then you’ll need somebody who’s a good shot. You can guarantee the others will have both a navigator and a gunner.” The big man shrugs. “I’m too heavy, as is Nestor, Len is a terrible shot, and I have no idea if Lucas can shoot. So, it would probably have been him anyway.” I scowl, and Epizon bumps my shoulder with his. “He’ll help the Rage.”

“Hmm.”

A horn sounds in the distance, and I start to turn.

Epizon reaches out, and I stop. “Lyssa, be careful,” he says quietly. “Don’t lose control.”

Lose control. That’s almost exactly what I did with Alexios on his knees before me, until Epizon’s voice broke the spell. It’s what I often do, without him to ground me.

“You know, Ep, it wouldn’t slow us down that much if you were on board. My Rage can make up for it,” I say quickly.

“No. We need to win this, and I’m too heavy.” He lays his hand on my shoulder, and I straighten. “Concentrate on the race, and on Hercules. Stay focused. This one is ours, captain.”

The sound of hooves makes me turn, and I see Len and Lucas moving across the planks toward us. Alexios saunters to my side, Bassari vanishing.

“So, sun’s down. Horns are blaring. What happens now?” asks Len.

I open my mouth to reply, and the world fills with white light.

I blink, then crippling pain engulfs my body. I gasp for breath, the now-familiar feeling taking over every cell of consciousness.

Alexios isn’t with me.

Agony. It’s simple, raw, unfettered pain, and it’s everywhere.

I can hear sound around me, my blurred vision taking in the presence of people. I’m in my longboat, I think. But just stringing two cohesive thoughts together is enough to send me to my knees.

A voice cuts through the pain, words distorted. “Choose you crew for the race.”

“Alexios,” I choke, and with another flash, the pain is gone.

Alexios is beside me, wrapping his huge arms around my much smaller frame and dragging me quickly to my feet.

I want to hit him. I want to scream at him. But all I can do is sag in relief against his chest.

“Shit. You okay?” I hear his voice, quiet, and then register that the rest of the sound is folk cheering.

I shove him away in answer and blink around myself, my vision clearing slowly. To my left and right are the other crews’ boats, lined up and facing the same way. On either side, in tall stalls, are hundreds of creatures. Many centaurs line the front rows, stamping their feet and beating their armored chests, whilst dryads and nymphs call and cheer. Beings from races made up of animals I can’t even name stare back at me, clapping their limbs and shouting. Beyond them, the hills are gone. We’re on a different plain, long, yellowing grasses stretching in all directions.

My eyes find Alexios, his expression tight, not as easy and open as usual. He speaks, barely moving his mouth. “Everyone is watching, Lyssa.”

I take a deep breath, then hold out my hand and smile at him. In case the flame dishes are listening, I make my voice calm and clear. “I’m okay. Just a dizzy spell,” I say.

He smiles back at me and squeezes my outstretched hand. “Good. Are you ready?”

“Yes. Are you? I need you to act as gunner. And… let me know if…” I trail off. I don’t know how to tell him to stop me if I go too far. I don’t want to ask him to do that. But I think of Epizon, and know I have to. “If I get carried away.”

“Carried away?” he repeats, then unhooks a slingshot from his hip. I see a bulging bag of shot also strapped to the belt. At least he’s prepared.

“Yes. Carried away.”

The crowd roars suddenly, and we both look for the source of the noise.

Hercules has climbed his mast, and is waving to the onlookers. His lion-skin cloak is draped across his shoulders, and Evadne, her blue hair shining, is standing below him with a small smile on her lips. I make a low growling noise and turn the other way.

Antaeus and the gold-skinned half giant Busiris are in a longboat twice the size of mine, with two small masts. I wonder if that will make it move faster, or if their weight will still hinder them. Past them I can see the slender longboat from the Virtus. Theseus, Psyche, and Hedone are all in the boat, and to my surprise, Hedone is armed with a long spear identical to Psyche’s.

“Heroes of Olympus.” Artemis’s young voice is amplified across the plain, and the crowd falls silent immediately. “Meet my prize stag, Cerynea.”

The air ahead of us shimmers with glowing gold, and slowly the light solidifies, an animal taking form.

He truly is a beautiful creature. Taller than me at his shoulder, and so pale he’s almost white, the stag has the most magnificent antlers I’ve ever seen. They’re shining gold, the light reflecting from them every time he dips his head.

“You must follow him back to me, on the other side of Sagittarius. You must not harm him, and you will not overtake him. You must take the route he does. You will start when he does. If you believe your life is in mortal danger, tell me that you give up and I will decide if you deserve to live.”

I swallow and try to avoid eye contact with Alexios.

“Good luck, heroes.”

I lay my hand on the mast. “I need you to keep the others away from us. I’ll handle the speed and the route. We’re the fastest here.”

He loads the slingshot and nods at me. “I know.”

The stag paws at the ground, and I realize his hooves are shining too, gold glinting in the dusky light. He snorts, loudly, and raises his magnificent head.

Another horn sounds, and in a flash of gold the stag is moving, not just forward but up. His golden hooves flash as he gallops through the air, gaining speed and height simultaneously. There’s a burst of noise from the crowd, and I will my boat forward, after the shining beacon ahead of me.

We’re barely off the ground when Hercules’s boat smashes into the side of us. Evadne aims her slingshot with a smile, and I duck as the lead flies toward me.

“Alexios!” I yell, turning to him. He’s firing at Busiris on the other side, who’s launching arrows from a bow in a high arc above us. One lands with a loud thud in the bottom of the boat. I look down at the metal arrowhead embedded in the wood and will more of myself into the little boat. The thrum of power builds in my veins, the wooden mast seeming to heat beneath my hands as we surge forward, out of reach of Hercules.

I look ahead to the flash of gold, now too small to make out as any specific form. The plains still roll ahead of us, no mountains or hills in sight. The grass is changing color, though, turning greener and longer as we speed over it. I look back toward Hercules, not far behind me. Evadne is yanking at a series of arrows that are sticking out of the mast of their boat, the only part not covered in shiny metal plating.

I scan the shimmering triangular sail for signs of damage but can’t see any. White flashes past on my other side. It’s Theseus, overtaking me. Hedone and Psyche are holding their long spears out on either side of the boat, ensuring nobody can get close enough to ram them. Smart move, I think, but they have no ranged weapons. Theseus salutes as he makes eye contact with me, and I scowl back.

“Can you hear buzzing?” Alexios calls.

“Buzzing?” I listen over the sound of the wind in my ears. There’s… something. I will more of my power into the boat, wanting to keep up with Theseus but reluctant to build up my energy too early. I don’t know how long this race will last, and it gets harder to concentrate the more power I’m channeling. Something tiny and black flies past me, close to my face. I swat at it. Alexios is right—whatever it is, it’s buzzing.

“Some sort of bug,” he calls. As he says it, the grasses below us begin to move, rippling like an ocean. My stomach lurches as a black swarm rises from the ripples, engulfing Theseus’s boat.

“Shit,” I curse, and pour power into the mast. We shoot up, over Theseus’s halting boat, the buzzing suddenly bordering on deafening. I fix my eyes on the golden glint ahead and try to ignore the writhing black in my peripheral vision. “Are we above them?” I yell to Alexios.

“I can’t hear you!” I barely catch his reply. I jump as I feel a hand on my shoulder, causing the boat to swerve as I turn. Alexios has climbed over the bench to the mast. He leans over the side of the boat, gripping the edge hard enough that his knuckles are white. “I can’t see the others,” he says, scanning the sky.

“I can.” I point. Not far below us, but a long way in front, is a whirling red light, surrounded by the black swarm. Hercules is swinging his sword in wide circles, fast, keeping the throng of insects at bay. I swat angrily at my hair again and push the boat faster.

“As long as we stay above the bulk of them, we’ll be okay,” Alexios says, still shouting over the roar of the wind and the drone of the bugs. I fix my eyes ahead and nod. I force myself to ignore the urge to keep looking down at the red glow of Hercules’s boat and concentrate on powering on, over the writhing grasslands.

I don’t know how long we’ve been flying when Alexios says, “It’s stopping.” The fact that he doesn’t need to shout the words means he’s right. I blink my stinging eyes and look as far down as I can without letting go of the mast. The undulating black mass is thinning. I can still see the red glow of Hercules’s sword, but he isn’t so far ahead anymore.

“Where are the other two boats?” Alexios moves from my side, I presume to the back of the boat. I don’t turn to look, not wanting to risk losing track of the stag. He may have kept a steady pace in a straight line so far, but I know enough not to take anything for granted.

“They both made it. The giants are at the back,” he reports.

“The grass is changing,” I say. “I think… I think there’s water ahead.” I lower the boat a little without slowing, ignoring the lingering few insects that buzz around me and see that we’re approaching a huge, boggy marsh.

Chapter 60

Eryx

Once again, I’m watching my crew compete from the sidelines, and it is complete horseshit. This time I am truly confined to the ship, but mercifully, I am out of my bed. Antaeus helped me move to a large chair on the rear quarterdeck, so that I can see everything going on in the flame dish.

At the moment, Hercules is winning, emerging from an insect-infested field and waving his sword triumphantly. The crews from the Alastor and the Virtus are level, the redhead from the Alastor keeping her boat high above the ground. Antaeus is at the back, his face a mask of concentration. I scowl, wishing I were in Busiris’s place. They’re approaching marshland now, and if the insects are anything to go by, they should be on their guard. Busiris holds his bow at his side, looking around nervously.

I feel around for the jug of water beside me, reluctant to take my eyes off the race for even a second. I’ve downed pints of it now, but I can still taste the remnants of the disgusting sludge. I take a long drag and poke at my bandaged chest. It’s tender, but not painful anymore. I suppose I’m grateful I can feel it at all.

The image in the flame dish changes, showing a closer view of Hercules, the lion skin bulking his muscular frame out farther. Behind him, slingshot pulled back, blue hair in a high tail and eyes vigilant, is Evadne. My eyes flick between the two.

I want to kill him. I want to take his stupid glowing sword and carve it straight through his fucking neck. Hercules is an absolute piece of shit.

Rage makes my chest tighten, worsening the ache as I watch her. Remembering the citrus scent of her, and the way she looked at me like she actually cared, only makes my helpless impotence worse.

She told me, in no uncertain terms, that she had chosen her path. Whether I agree or not, no matter how much I hate it, it’s nothing to do with me. She’s nothing to do with me.

The image widens, showing Captain Lyssa speeding toward the marshland, gaining on Hercules. The sail on her small boat is rippling scarlet red, the same color as Hercules’s sword. A flash of movement below the tiny boats catches my eye, and I lean forward, grunting in discomfort. There’s something in the swamp.

I squint at the picture before me, watching the boggy ground the boats are flying over. Again I see it, a splash and a fin of some sort, disappearing into the murky water.

My heart rate picks up. Both Antaeus and Theseus are flying close to the swamp, close enough to each other that Theseus’s first mate is stabbing her spear at Busiris, her gold armor gleaming. Frustration wells in me.

They aren’t watching the water. They’re too focused on each other to see the danger below.

“Look down,” I mutter, willing them to notice. “Look down, Busiris, you idiot.”

I picture Antaeus in my mind and project my voice.

“Captain, there’s something in the water below you. Raise the boat,” I say, as calmly as I can.

There’s no answer.

I watch the flame dish, desperate for any sign from Antaeus that he’s heard me. My captain’s face doesn’t change.

There’s another ripple of movement in the water, this one bigger than the last. I watch in impotent dismay as more than just a fin rises from the murk. A dark green tail, lined with sharp, triangular spikes, rolls up out of the reed-filled marsh then disappears again. I’ve seen a tail like that before on Aquarius. It belongs to a giant crocodile.

My breath catches in my throat. “No, no, no…”

The image closes in on the Virtus’s longboat when the first green lizard bursts from the marsh below, water cascading off its scaled hide. It snaps its monstrous teeth and flicks a tail as large as their boat at them before diving back under the water with a splash. Hedone drops her spear as she stumbles backward, the boat swerving violently as Theseus reacts.

Psyche barks something at her captain, holding her spear out farther as she speaks, swishing it from side to side. Hedone bends, fumbling to get her own back in her hands. The boat swerves again, but they aren’t fast enough, and a second slimy green lizard collides with them. They’re thrown the other way, and Psyche’s face contorts as she shouts what must be a warning.

I lean forward, my chest screaming in protest. “Show me Antaeus’s boat!” I plead aloud.

On cue, the image zooms out, and my dread grows. Antaeus and Busiris are flying too low, the boat sluggish with the weight it’s carrying. Antaeus is bellowing at the mast itself, ignoring Busiris, who is trying and failing to fire arrows at the lizards. They’re too fast for him to hit. Antaeus thumps the mast as five or six lizards are leaping in huge arcs out of the water, narrowly missing the Virtus’s boat as it finally begins to climb higher, escaping the snapping jaws.

But my captain’s boat has all but shuddered to a stop.

My stomach drops as reeds start to climb up out of the bog like skeletal fingers and wrapping themselves around the wood of the too-slow boat. Antaeus roars, his massive fist connecting with a lizard’s head. The snake tattoo on his back writhes with his movements. The lizard drops back into the water, stunned, but more knobbly green lizard skin flashes in the depths below them. The splashing increases as the beasts surround the boat in a tightening circle. He won’t be able to fight them all off.

My hands are trembling now, my injured chest heaving with rapid breaths.

Three lizards attack simultaneously from different sides. Antaeus catches one by the throat, his enormous hands finding purchase on the slick scales, and launches it into the distance. But while he’s occupied, another crashes into the side of the boat, tearing a chunk of wood away with its teeth. The third rakes its claws along the hull, leaving deep gouges.

Busiris finally releases an arrow. It strikes a lizard in the eye, and the creature dives back under the surface. But there are too many. For every one they drive off, two more emerge from the marsh.

I can see the desperation in Antaeus’s eyes as he fights, his movements becoming more frantic. A massive lizard, twice the size of the others, erupts from directly beneath them. Its jaws close on empty air inches from Busiris, who throws himself backward. The boat rocks violently, and I see Antaeus grab the mast to steady himself.

Busiris shouts something and points ahead of them. The image in the flame dish pans, following his gesture. The stag is changing course, veering hard to the right, its golden hooves flashing as it turns.

Theseus sees it at the same time, and banks hard to keep behind the creature, his boat responding immediately to his command. Hercules, far ahead, is making the turn with ease.

But the giants can’t follow. The reeds have pulled them almost to a complete stop, the boat now hovering barely a foot above the water’s surface.

“Come on,” I breathe, my fingernails digging into my palms. “Break free. You can break free.”

Antaeus grabs a handful of reeds with both hands and pulls. His muscles strain, veins standing out on his neck and arms. For a moment, I think he’s going to do it. The reeds begin to tear, ripping free from the wood. But then the largest lizard strikes again.

It launches itself from the water with terrifying speed, its entire body airborne, jaws wide enough to swallow a man whole. Time seems to slow as I watch it arc through the air, droplets of swamp water scattering.

Antaeus sees it coming. He releases the reeds and braces himself, one massive arm coming up to protect his face. The lizard hits him full force, its weight and momentum driving him backward into the mast. For a horrifying moment, I think he’s going overboard. The boat tilts at a crazy angle, one side dipping toward the water, where more lizards wait with open jaws. Busiris slides across the deck, losing his bow over the side, scrabbling for purchase on the slick wood.

“No!” The word tears from my throat.

But Antaeus catches himself on the mast. With a roar that echoes across the marsh, he grabs the lizard that’s still attached to him, its claws dug deep into his shoulder, and physically tears it away from his body. Blood streams down his chest. He lifts the thrashing creature above his head and hurls it with all his strength at the other approaching lizards.

There’s no triumph in his face, though. I can see the defeat in his eyes. A small lizard erupts from the water beside them, and Antaeus catches it by the throat almost absently, leaning back and then launching it into the distance. But it’s a futile gesture. His movements are too slow, and he’s injured.

My stomach constricts painfully as he holds both arms in the air. The words are the only ones that have been transmitted through the flame dish, clear and final.

“We give up.”

The boat shimmers, and then the whole thing vanishes an instant before the largest lizard lunges once more, its teeth snapping closed on thin air.

Chapter 61

Lyssa

“Swamp lizards.”

“What?” I don’t dare look back when Alexios’s words reach me.

In fact, I don’t look back as he describes anything that happens over the next ten minutes, instead keeping my eyes fixed on the glowing stag ahead of me. If I lose him, we’ve lost.

I do feel a slightly petty stab of satisfaction, though, when he tells me that Antaeus’s boat got overwhelmed by the terrifying-sounding creatures. The point is to stop Hercules, I remind myself. And the giants being out of the race doesn’t help that.

I’m sure we’re gaining on him. I’ve found a good rhythm, a trickle of my power flowing through me and into the boat, enough to keep us level at the front but not enough to drain me. I don’t actually know for sure that I can be drained of my power, but I’m not taking any risks just yet. The Rage has burned within me for most of my life, and it’s only grown, but I’ve never channeled my power gently for a long time. Short, explosive bursts are more my style.

“Are those flowers?” Alexios asks.

I just stop myself flicking my eyes away from the stag. “I don’t know. You tell me.”

“They are. It’s a meadow.”

In my peripheral vision I see long, low hills appear on either side of us, a bright, inviting green. The boggy ground gives way to luscious grass, peppered with large white flowers. As we speed along, trees sprout from the ground, thick with foliage. Red and yellow flowers spring up to join the white ones, shining and glowing.

“It’s pretty,” Alexios says.

I tighten my grip on the mast. “Then something ugly is about to happen.”

My attention catches on a large plant growing up from the ground far ahead. It winds its way up and up, taller than any of the others. In fact, it isn’t stopping. It will be as high as we are by the time we pass it.

“Lyssa!” Alexios shouts. A huge green shoot bursts in front of the boat. I swerve sharply, heading straight at another one.

They’re growing so fast that in seconds they’re everywhere. I narrow my eyes, adrenaline pumping through my body as I bank again, avoiding another winding vine. I won’t be able to get higher than these, I realize. That tactic is now redundant.

“Hercules is cutting them down,” Alexios shouts. My eyes flick inadvertently to the flashing red on my right. He’s whirling his glowing sword again, slicing through the emerald vines as they fly by his boat. Evadne’s young face is screwed up in concentration, and something occurs to me. She doesn’t normally navigate.

I’ve taken my eye off the vines too long. There’s a thud as we bump along the side of one, and I stumble sideways, my hand coming off the mast. The boat slows immediately, the red draining from the sail. A loud crunch comes from behind me, followed by a curse from Alexios. I spin around, seeing a vine curling around the peaked end of the boat as Alexios throws himself out of the way. We lurch to a stop.

“Fuck!” I launch myself toward the vine. “Shoot Evadne,” I yell at Alexios as I grab hold of the vine and try to force it off the wood. It’s as thick as an arm and strangely warm. It’s also completely unyielding.

“They’re out of range.”

“Then help me!” He’s at my side in a second, pulling his jeweled dagger from his hip then hacking at the vine. I look back toward the stag. It’s only a small glow in the distance, barely visible through a maze of tall, undulating vines.

“Shit, shit, shit,” I mutter. A second vine appears over the edge of the front of the boat. “Shit!” I say again, loudly.

It’s time for brute strength.

I run back to the middle of the boat, lay my hands on the mast, and concentrate. I fix Hercules, speeding ahead of me, in my sight, and the sail snaps taut. The boat lurches beneath me as I will it forward, pulling against the vines.

“Got it!” Alexios shouts, and I feel the release. The longboat rockets forward, but spins, anchored to the vine around the front of the boat. “I’m on it,” he yells, vaulting past me.

I take a breath and open my mind, letting ugly memories spill into me. There’s a creaking sound, then a tearing noise as we rip free of the vine. Alexios stumbles as we pivot, and then we’re shooting toward the golden stag, our sail shining crimson red.

Chapter 62

Hedone

“Do either of you have knives?” Theseus speaks calmly, but his eyes dart between us and the vines curling around our suspended longboat.

“No, captain,” barks Psyche. “I didn’t think we’d be in close combat.”

“Start pulling, then,” he says, and grabs at the closest plant to him. I turn, trying to do the same, my fingers closing around the nearest vine. The creepers are thick and are coiling themselves around everything they can reach.

All around the boat, more grow, blocking the light, causing a claustrophobic gloom to engulf us. The temperature drops, and I suppress a shiver.

I pull uselessly at the warm vines as they stretch over more of the wood. They pulse under my grip, almost like a heartbeat. My fingers slip on the smooth surface and I adjust my hold, pulling harder. Nothing. The vine doesn’t budge even a fraction. I grit my teeth and try again, bracing my feet against the side of the boat for leverage. Still nothing.

Around me, I can hear Psyche and Theseus having the same lack of success.

“Captain, what about your arrows?” Psyche says, her voice tight with frustration.

He looks at her, frowning. “The boat’s made of wood. If we burn the vines, we risk burning the boat.”

“I’d say the risk is worth taking,” she answers, scratching futilely at the plants.

“Hedone.” Theseus looks at me. His deep, warm eyes burn into mine, concern for me clear in every line of his face. “If the boat burns, there’s a chance we may need to jump. Can you do that?”

My stomach flips, but then annoyance pricks my conscience, sharp and clarifying. I’m not a child. I’m not some delicate flower that needs protecting. What would Hercules think of my having to be coddled by his rivals? The thought of him seeing me as weak and helpless sends a spike of determination through me.

“Jump where?” I look over the edge of the boat, forcing myself to assess the situation rationally, the way Psyche told me to last night. The ground is thirty feet down, maybe more. The vines are thick enough to hold weight, but they’re also covered in the smaller tendrils that seem to grab at anything that comes near them.

“Onto a vine. Then climb down.” His eyes haven’t left my face, searching for any sign that I can’t handle this.

I think of Hercules. Of his strength, his fearlessness in the face of the Hydra. Of the way he looked at me in my chambers, like I was powerful, like I was capable of anything. Of the way his hands felt on my skin, making me feel invincible.

I push out my chin, meeting Theseus’s gaze squarely. “Of course I can,” I say, and mean it.

Theseus nods, pulls his bow from his back, and nocks an arrow. He leans out slightly and murmurs, “Pira.” The arrow tip bursts into flame, casting dancing orange light across his face.

He aims for half a second then looses the arrow, straight at the base of the vines. All three of us lean over the edge of the boat, watching expectantly. For a moment, nothing happens. Then I see an orange flicker. It grows, slowly at first, then small tongues of fire lick upward, eating at the green flesh of the vine.

Theseus nocks another arrow, aims at the next vine, and fires. The second arrow finds its mark, and another small fire begins to grow.

The creeping ends of the plant aren’t spreading anymore. In fact, the vines that have been holding us seem to be loosening their grip, recoiling from the heat and flames below.

“Look!” I exclaim, pointing. Psyche pulls at the vine I’m indicating, and it comes away from the wood in her hands. Her face lights up with fierce satisfaction. She pulls harder, ripping the whole shoot away from the boat and throwing it back over the edge.

I hurry to do the same, working my way along the edge of the boat. My hands find purchase on a thick vine and I pull, feeling it resist. I plant my feet more firmly and use my whole body. The vine tears free with a satisfying rip, and I throw it away, immediately reaching for another.

I’m doing this. I’m actually helping.

The plants are getting warmer, I notice. Almost hot. I grab another vine, pulling hard, and—

I yell as flames suddenly lick up the creeper I’ve just pulled from the wood. The fire races up the length of it with shocking speed, and I throw it away from me just in time to save my hands. My heart is pounding now, adrenaline surging through me.

“Theseus!” Psyche yells, panic in her voice. I spin, my own panic threatening to engulf me. The flames have climbed the plants faster than we can rip them from the boat. Much faster. What were small, controlled fires moments ago are now roaring up the vines like they’re soaked in oil. Theseus is kicking at the flaming vines, but the fire has already taken to the wood, crackling, growing, spreading across the hull.

I close my eyes for just a heartbeat and summon Hercules’s image. His strong, powerful body, moving in time with mine, making me feel invincible. His hands on my skin, his lips on mine, his voice telling me everything I’ve longed to hear. The way he looks at me like I’m a goddess, not just the daughter of one.

I cling to the thought, letting it fuel me. I bare my teeth and tear at more creepers, ripping them from the boat before the flames can take them. My hands are moving faster now, driven by something primal. The more I rip at the plants, the stronger I feel, my fear melting away. My breathing is harsh and fast, my muscles burning with effort, but I don’t stop.

Hercules’s face swims before mine, filling me with power. His strength is flowing into me. His courage is becoming mine. If he can face monsters and trials and impossible odds, then so can I. I am more than I was. I am—

The image shimmers, and I feel a strange pulling sensation. Then the world goes black as I hear Theseus’s voice, clear as day.

“We give up!”

Chapter 63

Evadne

Ihate flying. Hercules has never allowed me to navigate on the Hybris, so I don’t have much practice, and I’m the sort of person who prefers to think things through, rather than reacting fast or relying on my reflexes.

I dare not try to do anything smart, like zipping between the swaying plants—I just steam forward as fast as I dare and trust my captain to cleave his way through anything we might hit.

So far, Hercules has hacked his way through the meadow of giant vines with Keravnos easily.

We might very well win this one, I think, clutching the mast with both hands and keeping my squinting eyes on the golden stag ahead. The swath of green in front of me seems to be lessening. The stag veers suddenly, and I panic, swinging the longboat after it. Hercules stumbles at the front of the boat and throws me a furious look.

“Evadne!” he roars, but I return my attention to the stag. It’s still heading left in a wide curve. I will the boat to follow, noticing with relief that the vines are definitely becoming sparser. I can see Hercules moving toward me in my peripheral vision.

“I’ll take over,” he barks. I readily relinquish control of the boat, and it judders through the air for a split second. “Idiot,” he spits, before the smooth movement resumes. “Now we can pick up some speed,” he mutters.

A flash of red catches my eye, and I look up as a much smaller longboat with a red sail soars over us. Captain Lyssa.

“How did they get through the vines?” I murmur.

Hercules growls. “She has more of my strength than I estimated. Where’s the new slingshot?”

I crouch in the boat, scanning the curved planks for the weapon. It isn’t really a slingshot at all, more like a handheld ballista. They called it a crossbow on Leo, the first of its kind. I find it, and pull metal bolts from the pouch on my belt to load it.

I’m intensely aware that these bolts will be far more lethal than the lead shot everyone else is using, and I find myself moving slower than I probably should.

I slide a bolt in and pull back the band, trying to convince myself that the weapon is on par with a well-wielded bow and arrow. There’s nothing unfair about using it.

All four crews have been chosen by the gods, I tell myself. They all have help, and most have means. If we have access to more efficient, albeit deadly, weapons, then we are obliged to use them. This is a battle, and the prize is worth the cost.

The landscape around us is changing. The vivid greens are dulling, muddy browns and dusty oranges replacing them as dirt covers the grass. The rolling hills are growing in height, becoming thinner and jagged, and a canyon is forming before us. The stag begins to weave between the spindly peaks jutting out of the ground.

“Are we supposed to follow its path exactly?” I ask, knowing the answer but wanting to make sure Hercules does too.

He doesn’t reply, but the boat moves to follow the path of the stag. We’re close enough that I can see the gold flash of its hooves and make out the shining curves of its antlers.

Lyssa is still above us, but not hugely ahead. She’s following the creature precisely, rounding every spindle and rocky outcrop the stag does. Soon, there’s no grass left at all, the barren rock turning a deep terracotta. The valley we’re flying through deepens and the jutting spires increase in number. Every now and again the valley curves sharply, forcing us around bends so tight that we almost go back on ourselves.

I start to enjoy the feeling, now that I’m not having to control our route. My ponytail whips behind me as we pick up speed. There’s no sign of the other two crews, and Lyssa is not making up any more ground.

Adrenaline pulses through me as I think about winning. How happy Hercules will be. How we’ll be that much closer to immortality.

“I’m going to take the boat up. Shoot when we get level,” he calls.

My elation dips.

“Shouldn’t we just speed up? Win that way?” I say, before I can stop myself.

“Shoot when we get level,” he repeats.

I take a long breath and raise the crossbow.

“Yes, captain.”

Chapter 64

Hercules

The indifference I felt toward my daughter’s retained life when I began these Trials just a few days ago is gone.

I need her out of my way, permanently.

I never set out to kill her or her mother fourteen years ago. Those actions were truly out of my control. But this time, I know exactly what I’m doing. This time, my mind is clear, my purpose singular. Lyssa has proven herself more capable than I anticipated, more resilient, and therefore more dangerous. She carries my blood, my strength, and that makes her the one obstacle between me and immortality that I cannot afford to underestimate.

The irony isn’t lost on me. I created this problem myself when I sired her. Now I must eliminate it.

Keeping the golden-horned stag in sight, I will my boat higher. Lyssa is only feet ahead of me, her pathetic little vessel straining to maintain its lead. I swerve around a rusty-colored rock spire, the boat still rising, but make no move to overtake. Not yet. I want her to think she has a chance. I want her to taste victory before I rip it away from her.

I hold my arm high as we draw up behind the smaller boat. The useless pretty boy she has as lookout is facing forward, in the same direction as her. Idiot.

“Shoot,” I say, and drop my arm with decisive authority. I hear the bolt loose from Evadne’s crossbow at the same time Lyssa’s boat plummets toward the ground. “What in Zeus’s name is she doing?” For a moment I think the bolt has struck her, sent her spiraling out of control. Then I realize I’ve lost sight of the stag.

I launch my boat after hers, spotting the stag galloping headlong across the rocky ground far below. At the last moment, it pulls up, heading fast toward a dark hole in the face of the canyon. A cave.

Lyssa’s shining red sail dims in front of me as we both speed into the cave mouth, swerving immediately to follow the narrow channel winding through the rock. The opening is barely wide enough for my boat, one of few disadvantages of my superior size and power. Dust flies up around us as we shoot through the tunnel, and Evadne starts coughing behind me. The sound is distracting.

It’s pitch dark inside the rock, which makes the outline of the shining stag ahead crystal clear. The glow of both boats’ sails shines off the stone walls as we fly through the passage after the creature, and I glance up at my already-dimming sail, acutely aware that with no light at all, it will start to lose power. Solar sails, though brilliant in open sky, are useless in extended darkness.

I narrow my eyes at the red rippling across Lyssa’s sail in front of me. That’s not solar power. That’s the power she inherited from me. I’ve never channeled my own strength into a ship like that. I’ve never needed to—my raw power has always been enough. Perhaps it’s time I start. I assume it will be the same as wielding Keravnos, a matter of focus and will.

“The end of the tunnel,” Evadne says, around spluttering coughs. She’s right—I can see bright light growing in the distance.

“Get ready to aim again, as soon you are able,” I tell her.

“Yes, captain.”

Something whistles over my head, and there’s a clank as it hits the rock wall inches from my face. Rock chips spray across my cheek.

“What was that?” I pull my lion skin up over my head with my free hand, the impenetrable hide settling over my shoulders like armor, and focus on the growing passage exit. There’s another whistling sound, closer this time, then a thunking sound as something strikes wood. The boat lurches violently, scraping against the narrow tunnel wall.

“It hit the boat!” Evadne calls, her voice pitched high with fear.

“What is it?” I growl, righting the longboat with a hard pull, the passage too tight to risk turning to look.

“Some sort of spear. It looks—”

She’s cut off by another whistling sound, then the clatter of metal on rock as another projectile barely misses us.

“They’re coming out of the rock face!” she calls, her voice muffled now as she ducks low in the boat.

Artemis is testing us, seeing who has the courage to push through. Some lesser heroes might slow down, might try to dodge and weave. But I am Hercules. I don’t slow down for anyone or anything.

The next spear hits me square in the chest, ricocheting off the impervious lion skin. The power of the shot is strong enough to have punched through a normal man’s ribcage, and it knocks me sideways despite my braced stance.

The boat lurches with the movement of my huge weight, careening off the wall. I hear wood splinter, feel the vessel shudder beneath me, but I wrench us back on course. We bounce off the opposite wall, then I have us straight again, and we burst from the rock back into the twilight.

We’re in a narrow canyon, only a few feet wider than the tunnel we’ve just emerged from, and my sail snaps taut immediately, the solar panels drinking in the light, then shimmering with renewed power.

I look to Lyssa’s boat, just ahead and to my left. Neither she nor her crewmate have been injured by the spears, I notice with disappointment. She’s got her hands pressed to the mast, the infernal red sail blazing like a banner of war. Her red hair whips around her face, wild, untamed, just like her mother’s.

A swell of anger washes through me.

“You’re supposed to be shooting,” I bark at Evadne, “not cowering in the bottom of the boat!”

She struggles to her feet, pointing ahead with one hand and scooping the crossbow up off the planks with the other. “The finish line!”

I follow her arm. At the end of the long, straight gorge are the tiered stalls from the start, loaded with waving spectators. I can’t hear them, but it’s obvious they’re cheering.

Next to them, standing on a floating platform with her gleaming bow over her shoulder and her silver armor catching the light, is Artemis.

She marks the end of the race.

I will the boat toward the goddess as fast as I can. It surges forward. Lyssa is still ahead, but barely. The gap between us is closing.

I bare my teeth in a savage grin. She’s going to lose. She’s going to watch me cross that finish line first, watch me claim victory, watch me prove that she was never strong enough, never fast enough, never good enough to stand against me.

I am Hercules. Son of Zeus. Slayer of monsters. And I do not lose to weak little children.

Chapter 65

Lyssa

We’re going to win. I know it the second I see Artemis at the end of the gorge. My Rage has kept me higher and faster than any other crew, and now there’s nothing between me and victory. Excitement floods my system and I feel the boat pull beneath me, reacting to my emotion.

A high-pitched ringing sounds in my ears, followed by a loud grating noise. Apprehension clamps over me.

“What was that?” Alexios calls over the rushing wind.

“I don’t know, but it doesn’t matter—we’re almost there,” I shout back.

Something is glinting off the canyon walls ahead of us. I squint, then spikes erupt from the rock as the stag gallops past them, growing in his wake and elongating.

Within a heartbeat there must be a hundred sharp metal points growing horizontally, straining to reach the opposite side of the gully.

“Shit, we can’t go over—the stag has gone through the middle.”

Alexios is right. And once those lethal tips meet in the middle, the finish line will be completely blocked.

“Then we’ll have to speed up,” I reply.

I grit my teeth, squeeze the mast, and once again open my mind.

I’m no longer the girl who ran.

I can win.

I will win.

This is a fair fight, head to head, and I will win.

My hair whips around my face as adrenaline pours through me. The wood beneath my fingers heats, drawing the Rage from my body and filling the sail with power.

The rock walls on either side of me are a blur as we speed after the stag, my eyes watering in the wind.

There’s a thud and the boat shudders hard, pitching me forward to land hard against the bottom on my knees. We slow, momentum preventing us from stopping completely, and I look up in dazed shock.

Hercules flies past, huge in his lion skin, Evadne holding a metal slingshot-type weapon and smiling. Time seems to slow as Hercules fixes his eyes on me, a laugh big and obvious on his lips.

Fury pulses through me so hard it hurts. I roar as I leap to my feet, thrusting both hands onto the mast and hurling my feelings into the boat.

It moves so fast that I barely keep my footing. Alexios yells as he’s thrown backward, but I don’t care. I fix my venomous glare on Hercules’s boat and let the hatred flow through me, like liquid fire. My mother’s broken body flashes through my mind, and my muscles tense so hard that for a second I think I’ll break. But then the pain morphs, cloaking me, lifting me.

I’m gaining on him.

“Lyssa, we’re too close to the spikes!” Alexios’s voice barely registers. “You need to stop—we’re not going to make it!”

We’re level with Hercules now. He turns to me, his smile gone, frenzied determination on his face. I know the shining spikes are approaching. I don’t care.

All I can see is him.

All I have to do is stop him.

Kill him.

“Lyssa, give up! Give up now!”

Deep red seeps into my peripheral vision, flooding what I can see, and pounding blood crashes in my ears. Alexios keeps shouting, but it means nothing. There’s nothing but power, enveloping me, elevating me, making me stronger than him.

Stronger than everyone.

The pounding in my ears is now a constant roar, my whole vision edged with dark, dark red. I can see me standing over Hercules, and it’s me holding the bloody poker, me raising the weapon and bringing it down toward my cowering father—

Something hits me, hard.

The boat jolts as I crash to the wood at my feet and kick out. As my leg extends, crippling cramps engulf my entire body.

I cry out in pain as the energy that was just coursing into the boat paralyzes my body, trapped with nowhere to go. I can hear Alexios through the confused haze of pain and anger.

“Lyssa.” He’s saying my name.

I curl up, my body shaking as my muscles constrict so hard I can’t breathe. I try to concentrate on anything except the pain. The boat has stopped moving. The spikes. Why aren’t we dead? I lost control. I couldn’t see anymore. I kept going when Alexios was begging me to stop. We should be dead.

Another wave of convulsing cramps rips through me. Is that cheering?

“A-Alexios?” I stammer.

“Once again, you nearly killed us.” His voice is quiet, and close. The pain in my body is subsiding. I roll onto my back and try to breathe deeply as he leans over me. “I had to get you away from the mast. We had to stop.”

“You… you tackled me?”

“Yes.”

“Why aren’t we dead?”

A small smile appears on his lips. “Because we made it.”

I sit up quickly, immediately bashing my head into his.

“We won?”

“We won.”

“Where’s Hercules?” I leap to my feet, immediately regretting it when a wave of dizziness hits me hard. I grip the side of the boat and look around.

“He’s not here,” I say, and my breath catches.

Alexios looks too. “No.”

I look down at all the spikes, hopefully. “I can’t see any bodies.”

“No. He must have given up at the last second.”

I shake my head, praying. “No. Hercules would never give up,” I say.

Alexios shrugs. “Maybe Evadne did for the both of them.”

I look at him. “Why didn’t you? Why did you let me carry on?”

He stares back at me. “I knew you could do it,” he says eventually.

I swallow, but before I can respond, Artemis’s commanding voice rings across the cheers. “Well done, Hero Lyssa.”

I spin to face the goddess on the podium. The Rage is leaking away and now only my hands are shaking.

“As the only hero to finish this Trial, I will gift you these.” An enormous set of golden antlers appears above the goddess, spinning slowly. “Any ship with these horns at their prow is welcome on Sagittarius.”

I drop to one knee, my heart skipping. Access to a forbidden realm could change our life. Plus, Epizon will be thrilled—if we survive the rest of the Trials long enough to use it.

Wait, she just said we’re the only crew to finish the race? That means Hercules really didn’t make it through the spikes.

We won. We actually won a Trial. Hope blooms in me, spreading like a warm balm through my aching, vibrating body.

We might actually do this. The little underdog crew, with the patched-together longboat and no fame or fortune, might actually do it.

We’ve won a Trial before Theseus has, for Zeus’s sake. Theseus. One of the best-connected, most powerful and famous demigods in Olympus.

A beam is forming on my face, and I accidentally look at Alexios. His smile is as genuine as mine, and for just a second, I don’t want to break his nose.

I want something else from him entirely.

“Your next Trial has already begun,” Artemis says with a small smile, then vanishes. Immediately, I hear voices in my head.

“Captain? Captain!”

“It’s no good. She still can’t hear you—ship communication hasn’t been working since the start of the race—”

“Hey!” I shout across them. The voices stop. “I can hear you. I assume you want to congratulate your hero?” I give a mock bow as I say it. Nobody answers. I straighten, frowning. “What’s wrong?”

“Captain, it’s Lucas,” says Epizon, his voice grave. “He’s gone.”

With a flash, I’m back on the deck of the Alastor. I don’t have time even to look around me before the flame dish flares to life.

“Citizens of Olympus, we have an unexpected turn of events for you!” the blond task announcer cries. “Here’s your next host to tell you more!”

He vanishes, replaced by the beaming face of the god Apollo.

“Good day, Olympus. The crews have probably noticed by now that they are one member short. Sorry about that.” He smiles and winks, his white teeth flashing. “But don’t worry, you’re about to have your chance to win them back—as long as you’re quick enough.”

My stomach lurches, and I look at Epizon. His lips are pinched tightly together, and his impatient concern is a mirror of mine.

“You’ve each been assigned a color, and a matching key will arrive on your ships momentarily.”

A shimmering metal ball appears in the image next to his face. An intricate pattern of vines and leaves is carved into the surface, and it’s shining bright yellow.

“You will need this key if you make it through my challenges.”

The image changes, his face and the sphere fading, replaced with an aerial view of a cross, with a circle in the center.

“Your crewmates are here, heroes,” Apollo says, and the circle glows. “Three from each crew will start where you see your color and try to reach the center.”

Each of the four ends of the cross glows a different color.

“The first to reach the center wins. And for some added incentive…” The image swirls, as though we’re diving down, toward the glowing circle in the middle, then focuses sharply. There’s a cage, maybe ten feet square, with four figures inside.

My fists clench, my whole body tensing as I recognize Lucas lying unconscious on the floor, a peaceful look on his slumbering face. I watch him long enough to see his chest rise and fall, then scan the other figures. The gold-skinned half giant takes up a third of the available floor space, and Evadne and Theseus sprawl across each other on the remaining ground. Theseus? Apollo has taken the Virtus’s captain?

I look harder at the image, and see that the cage is made from ice. The image wobbles and the figures stir. The cage seems to get smaller, the scene around it growing, and I suck in a breath.

A massive boar is running at the cage. Enormous ivory tusks curve out of its snout, and its eyes flash red as it powers toward the prisoners. My heart hammers as it smashes into the ice. The enclosure holds, just quivering slightly as its inhabitants start to lift their heads.

“I’d say you have about two hours before the boar breaks through the cage. And I’m afraid he has a bad temper and a large appetite.” Apollo’s face appears, and I hiss an involuntary snarl. “Oh, and it’s winter in Capricorn. Very, very cold. Good luck.”

The god beams, winks again, and vanishes.

The End

Thanks for Reading!

Thank you so much for reading Immortal Fury, I hope you enjoyed it!

The story continues in the next book, Infinite Rage.

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