“You’re late.” Perseus doesn’t lift his voice, but he doesn’t have to. The people nearest us have gone quiet, tense with the possibility of seeing Kasios family drama play out. I can’t resent them for that. I’ve given them plenty of fodder for gossip over my thirty years.
“Sorry.” I even mean it. “Time got away from me.” The temptation to overprepare isn’t usually one I fall victim to, but there’s nothing usual about this situation.
Perseus shakes his head slightly, his gaze tracking the rest of the room. “I’m making the announcement soon. Don’t wander off.”
I bristle, but there’s no point in taking it personally. Perseus talks to everyone as though they’re a small child or a dog; he has since we were little. I might understand that it’s just the way he is, but his preferred method of communication is already breeding resentment among Olympus’s elite.
That’s not my problem, though. Not tonight. I give him a bright smile. “Of course, dear brother. I wouldn’t dream of it.” After the announcement, people will have a chance to put their names forward to become champions, which will enter them into the tournament for Ares’s title. The window to put a name forward doesn’t technically close until dawn, but from what I understand, it’s rare for there to be latecomers, so I want to make sure I’m on hand to get my name in before anyone can think to stop me.
I turn to study the room, though I can feel my brother watching me. Probably worried I’m going to embarrass him further. Another night, I might even see that as a challenge, but right now, I have my eyes on the prize. I will not be diverted.
After tonight, everyone will know that I’m a force to be reckoned with.
It doesn’t take long for the rest of the Thirteen to drift over, taking up positions on either side of my brother and Callisto—Hera. She looks bored with this whole process, but she’s the only one. A current of excitement surges through the room. I know Perseus just wants stability for Olympus, but this fanfare will be more than that for the city. It will give them something to cheer for, an event to raise civilian morale—something that has wavered recently.
The Thirteen might rule Olympus, but ultimately they are only a handful of people. Without the support of the greater population, that power is in name only. There has only been an uprising once in our history, a few generations back after a war between the Thirteen decimated the city, but it was brutal enough for us to know we never want it to happen again.
Things work best when the current members of the Thirteen play the celebrity game. When someone takes over a new title, they decide how they want to craft their image and run with it. Some—like Demeter, the last Aphrodite, Hermes, and Dionysus—go hard, using public opinion to further their respective goals. Poseidon and Hades have never played the game, though. Hades by virtue of no one on this side of the river knowing he existed until recently. Poseidon because he garners enough goodwill by being one of the few who can come and go across the barrier that surrounds Olympus freely, which means he imports anything industry in the city can’t create for itself.
A bunch of new members of the Thirteen in a short time means uncertainty, and in uncertain times, anything is possible. Even revolution.
My brother will do anything to ensure that doesn’t happen.
The crowd presses closer, and I angle myself away from the front of it, shifting close to where Dionysus stands. He’s a white man about my age with short dark hair and a truly impressive mustache that he’s grown out just enough to curve it up at either side of his mouth. It should look ridiculous, but it’s Dionysus. He makes ridiculous an artistic statement, from his peppy attitude to his brightly colored suit. He grins at me. “Ready for this?”
My stomach is twisted into half a million knots, but I smile back. “Of course. There’s bound to be drama, and you know how I love that.” I will be the drama shortly.
A light over Perseus brightens as the camera crew takes up positions across from him. This event will be broadcast to the greater city, which means the impressions champions make, starting now, are vital. Ares doesn’t technically need civilian support to do their job, but being popular with the citizens helps smooth the way.
My brother straightens to his feet. He doesn’t have the commanding presence our father did, but he does have the ability to make it seem like he’s looking right into a person’s soul. He uses that now, his icy gaze shifting over the people gathered before landing on me. Something flares there, something I don’t recognize, but he moves on before I can identify it.
“You all know why we’re here.” He doesn’t raise his voice, but he doesn’t have to. My siblings and I were trained to speak in public from a very young age. To be perfect symbols of our perfect family line. “We’re here to honor the passing of Ares. He served the title for nearly sixty years, and he’s gone far too soon.” Nice words. Meaningless words. The last Ares was, quite frankly, a dick.
Perseus turns to the other part of the room. “Tonight, we begin the process of finding our next Ares. Tradition states that three trials will be issued, the first of which you’ll know in two days’ time. The winner of the three challenges will become the next Ares.” A weighted pause. Again, that strange look passes over his face.
It’s the only warning I get.
Perseus looks at me, something akin to sympathy in his blue eyes as he seals my fate. “And marry my sister Helen.”
2
Achilles
“Told you so,” Patroclus murmurs.
I don’t have to look at him to know what he’s thinking. I always know what he’s thinking. Namely, too damn much. At least the fawning groupies that descended the moment we walked through the door earlier have dispersed now that the show is underway. It’s a relief; I can turn the charm on when it suits me, but this shit is exhausting.
The last Ares never worried about playing to the public. He was a right old bastard, and he didn’t care if everyone knew it. I don’t know if he started out that way when he took the title, but by the end, everyone hated him. Even his own people.
It’s not how Athena operates, and I learned everything of value I know from her. Better to use honey than vinegar, better to get someone to do what you want with a little manipulation than by bashing them over the head with whatever weapon is closest at hand. Ares could have used a few of her lessons, but he was the type of guy who put himself on a path and didn’t deviate.
Things are going to change when I’m in charge.
Zeus is still talking, spinning a whole lot of bullshit about tradition. Olympus is up to its tits in tradition. It’s their excuse for everything, a line of reasoning that conveniently takes the responsibility from the people actually doing the actions.
“Yeah,” I mutter. “You don’t need to say it, though. I was already hearing the I-told-you-so loud and clear.” Patroclus had been sure the title would come with a wife. It’s been a long time since this title passed over, so I had my doubts, but one of Patroclus’s many skills is gathering all the available information and running scenarios until he finds the most likely one. It makes him irritating as fuck to be around sometimes, but he’s brilliant.