together, filling the throne room with their echoes. Aphrodite painted her face into a placid mask as her heart fluttered like bird wings in her chest.
Ares stood as if to accept, and all eyes flew to him.
“Sit down, boy. You could not be so foolish as to think that you would be the one I would choose for her husband,” Zeus scoffed.
Ares chest rose, his teeth bared. “You cannot do this, Zeus.”
A cloud passed over Zeus’ gray eyes, and he rose, growing taller, menacing as the room dimmed and thunder boomed with his voice in the sweeping space. “You dare tell me what I can and cannot do? It is in part because of you that I must do this. You bloodying the eye or nose of any god or mortal who glances at her is tiresome and churlish. The feuding ends, and it ends now. Do not defy me, and do not forget how you have been punished in the past for your arrogance, because this time, not even your mother will save you from me.”
Hera sat in Zeus’ shadow, her brows pinched together, her bottom lip between her teeth as she leaned forward with her eyes on Ares.
Aphrodite watched as the gods stared each other down, tense and taught as a bow string. Ares’ forearms twitched in his leather cuffs as he tightened his fist, then sat slowly, the red plume in his helmet trembling alongside his rage. Once Ares was seated with his eyes locked on her, Zeus sat as well. The room returned to soft daylight as he shifted his attention back to her.
“There is only one god who I would trust to bear the responsibility. He is steady and true, dependable and respectful. He will take care of you.”
“I do not need to be taken care of.”
“Someone must keep you under control.”
“No one can control me.” Her rage twisted around her heart.
“It will be done, and you will not disobey. You will marry Hephaestus.”
The room erupted in noise, and Hephaestus rose, strong and sure, his eyes begging her to understand, but she could not. She would not.
Aphrodite stood alone before the thrones of the gods, still as stone, her fury rolling through her like thunder.
“Do you believe, Zeus, that you could hold me back? That you could strip me of the power that is mine by marrying me off? I am older than you, older than all of you,” she said, sweeping her hand across the room. “You are children, and I am the daughter of Uranus, father of the sky, grandfather of Zeus. Of all of you, I am entitled to the seat of power over Zeus.” Zeus slapped the arm of his throne, and Aphrodite held out a hand to stay him. “I do not want the throne. If I did, it would be mine. But your insolence is insulting.”
The air moved around her, her wrath just under the surface, her white-hot, glowing eyes never breaking from his. The wind stirred the soft waves at her back and the petals of the roses in her crown.
Her eyes were narrow as she continued. “Are you sure that this is what you wish? Because I will not forget. This goes against all that I stand for. I do not love Hephaestus, and he does not love me.”
“You will learn to love each other.”
She fought to hold herself back. “As you have done with Hera?” A few gasps and laughs rolled through the gods, but Zeus was not amused.
“Do you mock me?”
“Why would you ask a question to which you know the answer?”
Zeus stood, and she would have been afraid, had she not been so angry.
“I will do your bidding,” she continued before he could speak, “but not without consequence.”
“Do you threaten me, Aphrodite?”
“I promise.”
His jaw flexed, but his voice was dismissive. “We shall see. Do not dare disobey me. I will not be gentle.”
Aphrodite turned on her heel and flew from the throne room with all eyes on her and Persephone in her wake, her fists so tight that her fingernails bit into her palms. When she reached her heavy door, she pushed it open and slammed it behind her with a savage scream.
She turned to exhibit her fury on everything in her