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ONE MORE TURN AND I’M in the main hall, throne room in the distance and Desma breathing down my neck.
Four guards line the wall on each side. Facing forward, covered by metal helmets, there’s nothing to distinguish them from each other.
Hermes waits inside the doors, barely visible except for his golden curls. He peeks above those gathered and gestures at us.
Gods dressed in finery trickle through the open doors. I’ll have to shove my way past to get into the room anytime soon. If I wait, I’ll be the last inside.
A double-edged sword. On one hand, I’ll make an entrance. On the other, I’ll be the last to my own audience. That could be taken as a show of fickle arrogance.
My foot taps against the floor in an erratic beat. I bite my lip until it aches.
I’ll wait. Better to be considered arrogant than impatient.
Tap, tap, tap, my foot continues. Desma jams her heel into it. Bones grind together but don’t break. I hiss and back away. Right into Charon’s arms.
He twists me around with a chuckle. I sink into the delicious heat of us chest-to-chest. His mouth is on mine before I can say anything. The warm slide of our lips, his hands bracketing my hips, him soothing the ache in my bottom lip with a flick of his tongue—everything else falls away.
He backs away. I chase after his lips. Laughing, he lets go of my hips to swipe hands across my braided hair, tucking strands back into place.
I glare. “You’re terrible.”
“Yet you’re no longer tapping your foot,” he says, smiling. “You needed a distraction.”
He jerks his head toward the doors. While we were kissing, everyone went inside.
Charon grabs my chin. He uses his thumb to ease my bottom lip from between my teeth. “Perhaps I should distract you some more.”
“While the tapping was driving me insane, please don’t,” Desma says.
I pout. His pupils dilate to pinpricks. He leans forward, eyes intent on my mouth.
Desma pulls me away with a grip on my elbow. “Not the time for this!”
He lets me go. Worse, he pouts. If Desma didn’t hold me so tight, I’d be back to kissing him right now.
She smacks the back of my head. “Focus!”
I inhale, squaring my shoulders. Lift my chin. I step to the side until I’m in view through the doors. “I can do this.”
“You can,” Desma and Charon say at the same time. They share an amused look.
Courage begins with one step.
One step at a time, I’m between the doors, a thick wall to each side. Two more steps and I’m inside.
Desma squeezes one hand. Charon the other. Then they walk past, skirting around the edge of the room. They settle on a couch close to Zeus’ throne.
Before I’m ready, I’m standing at the base of the thrones. Zeus sits on the left one. The other is empty. Hera’s still locked away. Though I’m grateful she’s not here to interfere, a pang of sympathy stabs at my heart.
Hermes, standing to the side of Zeus’ throne, waves with a goofy grin. My shoulders unfurl from near my ears.
Zeus raises an eyebrow. He sprawls across the pristine throne, one elbow propped on the armrest. His golden crown glints in the sunlight from the false sky above.
A last breath. A last blink. “I’m Agathe, daughter of sirens, here to bargain with Zeus.”
“Here to bargain with Zeus,” he drawls in a pantomime of my voice. Then he scoffs. “Go on, then.”
I clench my teeth, locking curses away. They fill my mouth like a thick layer of ash.
One by one, I set two slim books still tucked beneath my arm on the floor. The third one I flip open, finding the page with my Titan law by memory alone. I don’t bother repeating it, knowing he’d only mock me again, but do hold the book open should I need proof.
“I request a fair bargain per this Titan law.” I gesture to the book with my other hand, proud when it moves in a graceful arc. “If I fulfill our bargain, the immortality and wings of all the sirens, myself included, will be returned.”
His eyes widen a fraction. Otherwise, he shows no surprise at the change in my terms. The last time I was in this spot, I thought only of myself. How quick the change must seem to someone who lives for centuries! Yet change has already sunk into my heart, my bones, as if it has always been this way.
“And your judge?” he asks, yawning.
His gaze finds Hades on one of the couches and his face fills with smug mirth.
Hades sits rigid and alone. Demeter glares from across the room, Persephone at her side.
I lift my head a fraction more. “As my judge, I call upon Thanatos, god of death.”
Thick shadows flicker at my side, undulating in smoking tentacles. The court gasps, shifting back in their seats.
Thanatos steps forward until we’re shoulder-to-shoulder. He sketches into a bow. “King Zeus.”
“A judge? You?” Zeus says, sneering.
Thanatos shrugs. “Who else but death could be truly unbiased?”
Murmurs of agreement flit through the room. Desma grins, quick and bright, before falling back behind a placid mask. Charon does nothing, yet I read pride in his eyes.
Hermes hums. “He has a point.”
“Quiet,” Zeus snaps.
The room stills. All their chatter dwindles into silence.
Zeus sits straight, eyes sweeping across the room. One by one, each god bows their head. All but Charon, Desma, and Persephone. They dare to stare back.
His jaw works. He looks at me, eyes the sky during a raging summer storm. “I accept your bargain. For all the sirens’ wings and immortality, the cost is three trials.”
He’s done exactly what I hoped, exactly what he does with each recorded bargain—trials.
I stifle a laugh. Cover my elation by pulling another book off the floor. This one contains a number of stories but one in particular is the one I choose. I flip to the page and hold the book upright. Everyone can see the illustration on the left page—a man surrounded by three others.
The right page I read aloud. “The hero Heracles, faced with more of Zeus’ trials, chose three friends to aid him. One for each trial, only to help during said trial.”
I glance up. “I request the aid of three friends the same as Heracles.”
Zeus leans back. “And why should I allow that? You’re no blood relation of mine.”
“Fairness,” I say. “You agreed to a fair trial. If this hero had three helpers, then in all fairness so should I.”
“Fair is three trials only.” He lifts an eyebrow. “Otherwise, you would face an innumerable amount.”
Thanatos clears his throat. The noise echoes. “With all due respect, King Zeus, shouldn’t the judge decide what is fair?”
Zeus scoffs. “Unbiased, my ass.”
Thanatos grits his teeth, the muffled shriek of tooth against tooth audible only to those closest to him. “You are using your brothers, Hades and Poseidon, for your trials. Correct?”
“How did you—”
“Call it a lucky guess.” Thanatos grins. “If you’re allowed help, then the siren is allowed help.”
Zeus strokes his chin with a thumb.
I hold my breath until black dots speckle the corners of my sight.
“Fine. The siren will have her helpers, one for each trial. But since my help is only for one trial each, then hers should be as well. No one helper will be dragged to the next or reused.”
“Agreed.”
Zeus nods once, then claps his hands. “Then we’re settled. Agathe will endure three trials. Should she win all three, wings and immortality for herself and her kin.”
The court startles. Their silence turns to whispers behind raised hands.
“And if she fails?” Thanatos asks.
“If she fails just one, she’ll be executed before the Olympian court.”
My breath rushes out at once, chest near caving in on itself.
Every bargain has a price.
Cosmas’ bloodied head rolling on this very floor becomes mine.