“My daughter is lying,” Zeus says. “She doesn’t need your permission. It’s a true curse, one she inflicted on her own mother.”
Mercy flinches again, but Athene lays a hand on her shoulder.
“No,” Athene says. “Mercury is right. She can only rescind the immortality of the willing. Our mother was willing. She asked for it.”
“She did not!” Zeus thunders, and champagne flutes topple, shattering on the deck. “She would never have done that.”
“She did,” Mercy says, her soft tone almost apologetic. “She was tired. She wanted to go. We told you that. She told you that. You just wouldn’t listen.”
“You are a lying little trickster. Always have been. It doesn’t matter anyway. I gave the oath in return for Theodora’s hand in marriage. If she doesn’t go through with her end, I don’t have to go through with mine.”
“Uh, no,” Mercy says. “That wasn’t part of the deal.”
“What?”
“You didn’t stipulate a condition,” Theodora says. “You just made the promise.”
I see the look on Zeus’s face. Connolly does, too, and we both start to run toward Theodora before he strikes her. Instead, he wheels and lashes out at her father. He hits Mr. O’Toole in the side of the head, and the man stumbles back . . . as an invisible force smacks Zeus back so hard he stumbles and falls, blood trickling from his ear.
Zeus throws his hands up, and the sky splits open with a thunderous crack. The bright sun vanishes, swallowed by night-black clouds. There’s one eerie moment where the thunder dies, and the clouds seem to just hover there. Then the clouds burst and the rain pours, wind howling.
A table cloth goes flying, everything on it sailing through the air. I grab Connolly just as a glass salad bowl whips past his head. He yanks me down onto the deck. We start to slide as the boat—this huge yacht—lurches. Connolly grabs my hand and drags me toward the side where we latch onto a railing.
I squint to look around. Everyone’s running for cover. Someone screams. It’s one of the guards, hanging off the side.
“Theodora!” I shout to Connolly.
“She’s fine. The curse protects her.”
“Not from Zeus kidnapping her. That’s what he’s doing. Distracting us while he gets Theodora out of Mercy’s way before she can take her immortality.”
There’s a moment when Connolly hesitates. I know what he’s thinking. The same thing I am. What does it matter to us? Theodora is a family friend of his and nothing to me, and if Zeus can’t hurt her, then leave her to her fate. She’d said she’d go through with it. Let her.
Connolly pauses only a moment before his jaw sets. I nod, and he grabs my hand, wrapping his tight around it. The ship no longer lurches dangerously, but it’s rocking with the force of the gale and the deck is wet with rain, that rain driving down.
Connolly keeps hold of the railing as we pick our way toward the bow, squinting to see what’s going on. Athene is shouting orders. Mercy is helping Theodora’s father. And Zeus stands there, smirking, arms crossed over his chest.
He just stands there. Unmoving.
And there’s no sign of Theodora.
Chapter Forty-Two
Forty-two
“Illusion,” I hiss in Connolly’s ear as I motion at Zeus. “He’s an illusion. No one’s realized it yet.”
He looks over.
“He took Theodora,” I say. “Where would he go?”
“To the deck we came in. There are boats there.”
Still gripping my arm, he starts out, presumably in the direction that will take us to the middle deck. The yacht lurches again, and my foot slips, but Connolly catches me just as a plate flies past. We keep moving.
“Kennedy!” Athene shouts. “Aiden! Stay here! It’s not safe—”
“Illusion!” I shout back, waving at Zeus. I’m about to say he’s taken Theodora, but she realizes it and runs toward us with Mercy following.
As we move, the storm eases. That’s not a good thing. It means Zeus is close to achieving his goal, and no longer cares about stalling us.
We pick up the pace. When we reach the steps, Connolly slips on water, but he rights himself before I can grab him. The stairs have a non-slip coating, essential for a boat. We still hold tight to the railing as we descend.
We reach the “toy storage” space just as Zeus is climbing into a small speed boat. Theodora is already in it, slumped unconscious over the seat. Mercy runs, vaults and lands in the boat before her father sees her. He spins on her, roars and charges . . . and Mercy and Theodora both disappear.
Zeus turns on Athene. He snarls at her, furious at his own magic being used against him, but it’s only a moment before he’s on the deck, marching toward a spot, as if he can see Theodora and Mercy.
I weave a curse as fast as I can. A little jinx that—along with the inch of water on the deck—has him doing a prat fall. It’s barely a stumble, but it’s enough to infuriate him, and he wheels my way.
“You can’t touch her,” Athene says calmly. “If you want someone to fight, fight me.”
He turns back to Mercy and Theodora. He stops. They’re gone, and apparently, that’s more than the illusion magic.
Zeus stalks along the side of the boat. “How did I raise such silly daughters? What does this girl mean to you?”
“Nothing,” Athene says behind him. “It’s our mother who mattered, and the knowledge that she would want us to stop you from enslaving another wife.”
“Enslaving?” he snorts. “I left for months on end, and she remained happily at home. No one bound her there.”
“You bound her. With threats. Against us. Your own children.”
Zeus slows and turns with a sneer. “Is that what she told you? She lied.”
“She told me nothing. I heard you threaten her. When she tried to leave, you lamed Hephaestus.”
“I never—”
“I heard it!” Athene’s voice fills the room, echoing off the walls as she advances on him. “I heard it from your own lips. Mother tried to tell me I’d misunderstood. She didn’t want us to know the sacrifice she made for us. Always for us.”
“She made her choice. And so did this girl.”
“Is that what you tell yourself? You choose a woman, and you threaten to harm her loved ones and when she agrees to be with you, you say it was her choice?” Athene sneers at Zeus. “You are a child. A selfish, petty tyrant of a child.”
“I am still your father and—”
He stops and turns back to the other side of the room, as if he heard something.
“Mercy!” he says. “You don’t want to do this. Remember that I still have your girlfriend.”
He takes out his phone and hits a button. A clip plays. I can’t quite hear it, but I’m sure it’s Rosa—or it’s supposed to be. Zeus drops the phone back into his pocket.
“If you steal my bride’s immortality, I’ll kill your girlfriend. Remember that.”
I glance at Connolly and mouth something. We walk toward Zeus. When he turns, we stop a few feet away. He only shakes his head and turns back toward where his daughter presumably hides with Theodora.