“And Theodora?”
Her face falls. “She’s determined to go through with the wedding.”
“Because your lover isn’t the only one he’s threatening.”
“Okay, well, I’ll figure that out. For now, we need to get you guys to safety. Head that way while I get the painting.”
“We’ll go with you,” I say.
She starts to argue, and then shakes her head and waves us onward.
We reach the room. Connolly opens the lock, and Mercy pushes the door, and we step into the darkness. I’m reaching for my phone when there’s a click. Light fills the room, and there stands Zeus and his two guards.
“Came back for the painting?” Zeus says. “I thought you might.”
We turn, and he says, “Don’t bother fleeing. While I presumed you’d want the painting, I covered all the bases.”
The door opens, two more guards walking in.
Zeus continues, “There are also a few of my men holding your sister captive. She climbed back on the ship, naturally. So tenacious, our Athene. Never knows when to quit. Kind of like your mortal friends here.”
He meets Mercy’s glare. “Oh, don’t give me that look, little one. I wasn’t going to let Ms. Bennett kill her darling beau. I’d have stepped in once he lost consciousness.” He smirks. “Probably.”
Zeus turns to the guards. “Escort them upstairs. They seem determined to crash my wedding, so we might as well let them.”
* * *
We’re on the main deck, in a large open area where a marriage officiant waits. Theodora’s parents refuse to look our way. They’re seated at the front, along with a few guests. Chairs are pulled in for us. We take our seats—Connolly, Mercy, Athene and myself.
We’ve barely sat when the doors fly open and Theodora strides in, wedding gown hiked up in one hand.
“I appreciate your impatience, my dear,” Zeus says, “but that wasn’t your cue.” He motions, and the sound of organ music fills the air.
“Not yet,” Theodora says, and the music stops.
Zeus’s mouth tightens. “If you’ve had a change of heart—”
“I haven’t. I just want to know what you did to Kennedy and Aiden. And don’t tell me nothing. There are bruises around their necks. I could see them from the balcony.”
Zeus sighs. “They are fine.”
“They’re fine now, but you did something.” She lifts a hand. “You don’t need to tell me what. The point is that it made me think of something. I want a boon. A wedding gift.”
His lips twitch. “Oh, that is coming. Tonight, my dear.”
She starts to roll her eyes but stops herself and straightens. “I want your promise that you won’t hurt me. Not me or my family or my friends, including Aiden and Kennedy.”
“All right. I will never physically harm any of those people.”
“Not physically and not financially.”
His brows shoot up. “Financially?”
“You will do nothing that could financially harm them, which would include attacks on their businesses, their homes, or their reputations.”
“You really are a lawyer, aren’t you?”
“I am, and this is my prenup. No physical or financial harm shall come to my family or friends. Nor any physical or financial harm to any of their loved ones.”
“Their loved ones?” His brows climb higher. “That seems a bit excessive.”
“No, because you’ll note that I specified physical and financial harm to those I care about. I did not include emotional harm because that is difficult to quantify. Instead, I include harming their loved ones, which would be the primary method of inflicting emotional pain.”
His lips curve into a smile. “Well played, and now, understanding the purpose, I will agree.”
“Blood oath,” Mercy says.
“Yes,” Athene says. “You must demand a blood oath, Theodora. It is a form of a curse, and my sister can weave it on your behalf. Zeus must swear to your conditions, bonded with blood, enforceable by a curse that, if he breaks his oath, he suffers whatever he has inflicted two-fold.”
“She doesn’t need—” Zeus begins.
“That sounds fair,” Theodora says.
Zeus stomps to the dining table—laid out for the wedding feast—and snatches up a knife. Everyone flinches, even his own guards. He slices across his palm and strides to Mercy.
“Do it,” he growls. “Quickly.”
She weaves the curse. It’s nothing like I’ve ever heard before, but the form makes sense. It has a trigger, and it has consequences. It’s also elaborate enough that it’d take me days to cast it . . . and she does it in less than a minute.
Zeus strides back to the table, grabs a linen napkin and clutches it in his fist, staunching the blood. Then he marches to the officiant and snarls, “Get this done.”
I squirm in my seat. I cast an anxious glance at Athene, but she’s staring straight ahead. Mercy meets my look with a small, sad smile.
So that’s it, then? Theodora has made her choice and protected herself as best she can, and there’s nothing—
“One last thing,” Athene says, her voice ringing out over the officiant’s words.
Zeus wheels on her. “No.” He jabs a thick finger at her. “Your mother indulged you, Athene, but I will not. There is no ‘one last thing.’ You got your blood oath. Now be silent, or I will silence you myself.”
“Will you? You never have before.”
He takes a step toward her.
Mercy clears her throat. “Athene is right. There is one more thing.”
“Don’t you start—”
“Theodora,” Athene says. “Do you wish to be semi-immortal?”
Theodora blinks. “I-I am, aren’t I?” She looks to her parents, who haven’t said a word, and then to Zeus, who’s glaring daggers at his daughters.
“Yes.” Zeus spits the word. “Otherwise, we’d hardly be here. I’m not about to marry a mortal girl.”
I glance at Athene, at the same time Connolly does.
“True,” Athene murmurs. “You’d hardly marry a mortal. So, I ask again, Theodora. Do you wish to be semi-immortal?”
“No!” Zeus’s bellow shakes the entire room, champagne flutes chattering. “Don’t you dare.”
He advances on his daughters. Mercy flinches, but comes back firm.
Athene stands her ground. “Theodora? You may surrender your semi-immortality.”
“Wh-what?” her mother sputters. “Certainly not. You’ve been given a gift, Theo.”
“No, you’ve been given a curse,” I say. “One that landed you right in a monster’s path.”
“You keep out of this,” Zeus snarls.
“Uh-uh,” I say. “Careful now. You just swore a blood oath not to hurt me.”
Mercy straightens then. “Theodora? Athene is right. I can rescind your immortality. Curse you to be mortal. It requires your permission, which doesn’t make it very effective as a curse but . . .” She shrugs. “It’s a technicality.”