“How was it?” he asks.
Max wasn’t invited to the celebration. I want to divulge all of the details of the food and the decorations and revelry, but I don’t have time for that.
I return to my bed and prop myself up against the headboard. “Do you know about the Titan?” I ask.
Max goes still. There’s a pained look on his face that says yes, he definitely does know about it.
“It’s not my place to talk about those things. But yes, I overheard Nereus and Hades earlier.”
“Which Titan was it that escaped?”
“They didn’t say, but I get the feeling they know which one it was.”
Max sits on the foot of my bed.
“Should we be worried?” I ask.
He lifts a shoulder. “The Titans have been in the Underworld for my entire lifetime.”
The way he says it—his lifetime—leads me to believe he’s older than he looks. That’s the thing with the descendants of gods—we might not be immortal, exactly, but we age slowly. Some more slowly than others. It all depends on how much godly blood we have running in our veins.
“The gods will deal with it,” Max says, sounding like he’s trying to convince himself as much as me.
“Of course.”
“So the party,” he says again.
“Right. I hid in an empty parlor.”
He bursts out laughing. “I’d probably do the same. But now you have no gossip to share with me.”
I think of Nereus manhandling Haven. At the time, they were threatening my demise and that was all I was focused on, but now...when I think back to the threat in Nereus’s voice, I feel pity for Haven.
Hestia never put any pressure on me to do anything at all. Expectations were low. Haven must have felt pressured his entire life. I always thought his name was a golden ticket, something he could pull out whenever he wanted to get away with something he shouldn’t. But maybe it’s more burden than benefit.
Still, he promised his brother he’d make me lose and I can’t forget that.
I must keep my guard up with Haven at all times.
I want to tell Max all about what I witnessed, but it feels too private, too much of a secret to share.
“Sorry,” I say. “I wish I had more.” I cover a yawn. “Maybe next time?”
He stands and scratches at the back of his head. “I really do hope you win, Ana. I’d hate to lose you.”
I smile up at him, my vision muzzy with sleep now.
“I’d hate to lose you too.”
He’s become my Clea here and I’m suddenly very grateful for him.
“Goodnight,” he says.
“Goodnight.”
After Max leaves, I fall fast asleep, still dressed in my shadow gown.
It’s my growling stomach that pulls me awake some hours later.
The only thing I’ve eaten as of late were the sweet cakes and they were barely the size of an acorn.
After peeling off my dress, I pull on a pair of black leggings and an oversized sweater and make my way to the house kitchen.
It takes me a couple of wrong turns before I finally spot the arched doorway I’m looking for.
My internal clock tells me it’s close to dawn, so I expect to find the kitchen empty.
Instead, I find Haven at the worktable cutting into a pepper. A pot is already steaming on the stovetop behind him. Cooked chicken is chopped up next to him.
He looks up at me and betrays no shock or annoyance.
“Couldn’t sleep?” he says and goes back to his chopping.
Slightly on guard, I say, “I was hungry.”
He sets a pan on the stove and tosses in a pat of butter. “I’m making a chicken and rice bowl. Would you like one?”
I don’t know what to say to that so I just stand there and stare at him dumbly for far too long.
“I’ll be nice,” he promises and his promise to Nereus echoes in my head. This must be part of the game. But since I’m starving and he’s offering, I see no sense in turning it down.
“Yes, please.”
He tosses the peppers and chopped onion into the pan and the butter sizzles. Next, he puts a new pot on the stove beside the other and pours in so many different sauces and spices, I think he might be creating a potion and not a condiment.
I pull out one of the stools at the table and watch him as he works.
He moves in the kitchen like he knows exactly what he’s doing. There’s no measuring here, no hesitation, as he throws things together. Soon the kitchen is full of so many good aromas, my stomach tries gnawing its way out of my body.
When all the burners are off, Haven sets two bowls in front of me. He throws in a few scoops of brown rice in each bowl, then tops it with a heaping helping of the chicken and pepper and onion mixture. Lastly, he drizzles a dark amber sauce over top of it.
He hands me a fork.
I take it.
He grabs his bowl and disappears into the staff’s dining room. “Come on, Hearthtender,” he calls. “Don’t make me eat alone.”
I scoop up the bowl and follow him.
The staff’s dining room is all windows from one corner to the other. We’re facing the southern edge of the Dark Wood. Here the trees still have their leaves. I still haven’t figured out what that was in the Wood or how I might do it again.
Haven lights a lantern that hangs from a wrought iron hook in the ceiling. The wick catches easily and golden light spills in a circle around the room.
There are four tables here, with benches instead of chairs. I climb over a bench and settle in. Haven sits across from me. I wait until he takes a bit before trying my own. Just in case he had a thought to poison me.
Though that would be an ill-conceived plan. For one, he’d have had no way of knowing I was going to show up in the kitchen. And two, while mortal laws don’t exist here in Olympus, Haven would likely still be punished for my death one way or another.
With the coast clear, I scoop up chicken and rice and a colorful cluster of peppers and onions. When I bite into it, flavor explodes in my mouth. There’s the richness of the butter and spice of the chicken. And whatever sauce he made, it’s sweet and tangy. I taste honey and salt and wine maybe? I don’t know, but I love it. I love everything about it.
We eat in silence. I have no room for words on account of the fork going in and out of my mouth.
Sometime later, my bowl empty, I finally take in a full breath and look up. Haven is watching me.
“What?” I say.
“Did you like it?”
“I loved it.”
He folds his arms on the table. There’s no bashful pride on his face. He knew it was good. He’s not surprised by my adoration. Of course, everyone adores Haven for everything he does. Except his older brother apparently.
His eyes—one amber, one bleached nearly white—pin me in place.
The hair lifts on the back of my neck.
How does he do that? How does he make me feel electrified with nothing but a look? Why do I not want to leave now that our food is done?
I want to keep him here. I want this intimate bubble to stay just a bit longer.
But the only thing that comes out of my mouth is, “What really happened to your eye?”
Immediately I regret it. I think I’ve gone and popped the bubble and that Haven will sneer at me and say something biting in order to get back at me for having the audacity to ask him something personal.