Neon Gods (Dark Olympus #1)(3)
Mother cuts through the crowd, perfectly at ease with all the other sharks. With nearly ten years serving as Demeter, she’s one of the newest members of the Thirteen, but she’s taken to moving in these circles like she was born to it instead of elected by the people the same way Demeters always are.
The crowd parts for her, and I can feel eyes on us as we follow her into the brightly colored mix. These people might resemble peacocks with the way they go the extra mile for these events, but to a person, their eyes are cold and merciless. I have no friends in this room—only people who seek to use me as a stepping stool to claw their way to more power. A lesson I learned early and harshly.
Two people move out of my mother’s way, and I catch a glimpse of the corner of the room I do my best to avoid when I’m here. It houses an honest-to-gods throne, a gaudy thing made of gold and silver and copper. The sturdy legs curve up to armrests and the back of the throne flares out to give the impression of a thundercloud. As dangerous and electric as its owner, and he wants to be sure no one ever forgets it.
Zeus.
If Olympus is ruled by the Thirteen, the Thirteen are ruled by Zeus. It’s a legacy role, one passed from parent to child, the bloodline stretching back to the first founding of the city. Our current Zeus has held his position for decades, ever since he took over at thirty.
He’s somewhere north of sixty now. I suppose he’s attractive enough if one likes big barrel-chested white men with great boisterous laughs and beards gone winter gray. He makes my skin crawl. Every time he looks at me with those faded blue eyes, I feel like I’m an animal at auction. Less than an animal, really. A pretty vase, or perhaps a statue. Something to be owned.
If a pretty vase is broken, it’s easy enough to purchase a replacement. At least it is if you’re Zeus.
Mother slows down, forcing Psyche back a few steps, and takes my hand. She squeezes hard enough to convey her silent warning to behave, but she’s all smiles for him. “Look who I found!”
Zeus holds out his hand, and there’s nothing to do but place mine in his and allow him to kiss my knuckles. His lips brush my skin for the barest moment, and the small hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. I have to fight not to wipe the back of my hand on my dress when he finally releases me. Every instinct I have is screaming that I’m in danger.
I have to plant my feet to prevent myself from turning and running. I wouldn’t make it far anyway. Not with my mother standing in the way. Not with the glittering crowd of people watching this little scene play out like vultures scenting blood on the wind. There’s nothing this lot loves more than drama, and making a scene with Demeter and Zeus will result in consequences I don’t want to deal with. At best, it will anger my mother. At worse, I run the risk of being a headline in the gossip mags, and that will land me in even more hot water. Better to just ride this out until I can escape.
Zeus’s smile is a touch too warm. “Persephone. You look lovely tonight.”
My heart beats like a bird trying to escape its cage. “Thank you,” I murmur. I have to calm down, to smooth my emotions out. Zeus has a reputation as the kind of man who enjoys the distress of anyone weaker than he is. I won’t give him the satisfaction of knowing he scares me. It’s the only power I have in this situation, and I refuse to relinquish it.
He moves closer, edging into my personal space, and lowers his voice. “It’s good to finally have a chance to speak with you. I’ve been trying to corner you for the last few months.” He smiles, though it doesn’t reach his eyes. “It’s enough to make me think you’re avoiding me.”
“Of course not.” I can’t edge back without bumping into my mother…but I put several seconds of serious consideration into that option before discarding it. Mother will never forgive me if I make a scene before the all-powerful Zeus. Ride it out. You can do this. I dredge up a bright smile even as I begin chanting the mantra that’s gotten me through the last year.
Three months. Just ninety days between me and freedom. Ninety days until I can access my trust fund and use it to get out of Olympus. I can survive this. I will survive this.
Zeus practically beams at me, all warm sincerity. “I know this isn’t the most conventional approach, but it’s time to make the announcement.”
I blink. “Announcement?”
“Yes, Persephone.” My mother edges in close, shooting daggers from her eyes. “The announcement.” She’s trying to beam some knowledge directly into my brain, but I have no idea what’s going on.
Zeus reclaims my hand and my mother practically shoves me after him as he starts for the front of the room. I shoot a wild look at my sister, but Psyche is just as wide-eyed as I feel right now. What’s going on?
People fall silent as we pass, their gazes a thousand needles against the back of my neck. I have no friends in this room. Mother would say it’s my own fault for not networking the way she’s instructed me to time and time again. I tried. Really, I did. It took all of a month to realize that the cruelest insults come with sweet smiles and honeyed words. After the first lunch invitation resulted in my misquoted words being splashed across the gossip headlines, I gave up. I will never play the game as well as the vipers in this room. I hate the false fronts and slippery insults and knives hidden in words and smiles. I want a normal life, but that’s the one thing that’s impossible with a mother in the Thirteen.