Goddess Interrupted (Goddess Test #2)(56)
Author: Aimee Carter

As the f inal week before the solstice passed, I waited for the opportunity to do as I’d promised and kiss him properly.

But Henry spent more and more time locked in meetings with the other council members, and by the time he came to bed, he collapsed with little more than a good-night.

I hadn’t realized he could get tired, but when I asked my mother during the few minutes a day I got to see her, her answer was succinct.

“We don’t grow tired doing normal human things. It’s when we use our powers that we drain ourselves.” That explained why I didn’t seem to need sleep anymore, though when Henry was with me, I managed. He needed more than he allowed himself to get, and I refused to wake him early or keep him up late no matter how badly I wanted him to know how I felt. Now wasn’t the time, and it wouldn’t be until after the battle. If there was even an after the battle at all.

I didn’t let myself think about that part. He had to survive; there was no other option. If Cronus hadn’t killed him in the cavern, he wouldn’t kill him now. He wouldn’t kill any of the gods. I had to believe that everything would be okay.

In the hours before the winter solstice, the council gathered, their thrones forming a circle that aligned with the black and white diamond ones for Henry and me. I was hesitant to take mine, since I’d had nothing to do with planning the battle and wasn’t going to participate, but Henry insisted.

Before the meeting began, Persephone perched on the arm of our mother’s chair as if she’d done it a thousand times before. She eyed me, and I f idgeted when I realized that my throne had probably belonged to her when she’d been queen. Perfect.

“Brothers and sisters, sons and daughters,” said Walter.

He looked around the room gravely, taking time to examine each face, and he skipped Calliope’s empty throne as if it wasn’t there. “We have spent months anticipating this night, and f inally it is here.”

Henry sat rigidly, his chin raised and his expression blank. The bags under his eyes were purple, as bad as my mother’s had been in her f inal year of life, and the lines in his face were deeper than they’d ever been before. Dread coursed through me, and I forced myself not to think of the possibility that he would collapse in battle and die anyway. I should’ve given him more time to sleep. I should’ve insisted on another room so I wouldn’t interrupt him. I should’ve done so many things I hadn’t, things Ingrid and Persephone would have thought of.

“Our enemy is strong, there is no denying that,” said Walter. “But we have beaten him once, and I am conf ident we will succeed again.”

The corner of Henry’s mouth twitched. Walter was lying.

Even I knew that the chances of them succeeding without Calliope were low, and she was locked in a room deep inside the palace, uncooperative after all this time. Whatever she had done during the f irst war had been the lynchpin in securing their victory, and without her, every single one of them was planning for defeat. All I could hope for was that they wouldn’t push themselves past the point of no return.

“I would like to propose a toast,” said Walter, and beside him, Xander gestured. Wineglasses appeared in front of each of us, f loating in midair. “To everyone here, with my deepest love and affection. Whatever happens tonight, know that I am proud of each of you. We are family, and none of you will be forgotten.”

Nausea washed over me, and it was all I could do to murmur along with the others and take a sip of wine. They were preparing to die after all. Maybe not all of them, but the possibility made me dizzy with dread. If even one of them didn’t come back…I couldn’t live with that sort of guilt.

No one said a word after that. They all sat in silence and watched the clock tick closer and closer to midnight, and I stared at the faces of everyone around me. My mother.

Henry. Ava. James. They would all be risking their lives.

Self ishly I wondered what would happen to me if none of them survived. Would I remain in the palace with no sure way to return to the surface, or would Cronus come after me to f inish the job? If I was the only one left, I hoped he would.

Just before the clock struck midnight, Henry reached over to take my hand. His skin was warm, and unlike mine, his palm was dry. For a second, his grip tightened, and horror snaked through me. Was he saying goodbye?

“Please come back,” I whispered so only he could hear me. He nodded once, such a small gesture that I wondered if I’d imagined it, and he let go.

Henry stood, and so did the others. Across the circle, Ava held hands with Nicholas, and I looked away. I’d known the council for a year. They’d known each other since the dawn of humanity, and everything I was feeling was in-consequential compared to what they were going through.

As the clock chimed, Henry stepped into the center of the circle, and the others joined him. My mother gave me a sad smile, and I raised my hand in a silent goodbye.

When the twelfth chime rang, they were gone.

I sank against the arm of my throne, my face buried in my hands as great hiccupping sobs escaped me. Overwhelmed with helplessness, I pushed my mind toward the battle and struggled to see them. I had to know what was happening.

Someone touched my shoulder, and I jumped, nearly tripping off the platform. My vision was blurry, but I made out a blonde with her hands on her hips, and for one terrifying moment I thought it was Calliope. It would serve me right for her to kill me now while the others were away.

“It’ll be okay,” she said, and I let out an audible sigh of relief when I recognized Ava’s voice. I wiped my eyes on my sleeves, and slowly she came into focus.

“Ava?” My face grew hot when I realized she must have seen me break down like that. “What are you doing here?

Shouldn’t you be with the others?”

“Someone had to make sure you didn’t run after us again,” she said, and even though she was joking, her words sucker-punched me. “Besides, I’ve never been very good at f ighting. I’m more of a make love, not war kind of person.

Come here, you’re a mess. How did you manage this in thirty seconds?”

A handkerchief appeared out of nowhere, and I let her wipe my cheeks and nose. It was such a motherly thing to do that my eyes f illed with tears all over again, and she rubbed my back comfortingly.

“Let’s sit, shall we?” She led me over to one of the cushioned pews, avoiding the thrones altogether. “Don’t worry so much. They’re all really good at what they do, and we’ve got a great plan. They’ll be back before you know it, I promise.”