“It’s like supermodel hair,” I breathed, too scared to touch it. “How did you do that?”
“Sweetie, I’m fucking ancient. There’s not a lot I can’t do.”
“Ares said you can’t heal,” I said, remembering his words. A darkness crossed her face briefly.
“It’s true my powers are mostly on the more destructive side.” Her voice was slightly too hard as she spoke.
“Then how can you make beautiful hair? That’s not destructive at all.”
“Bella, making you look hot as hell will wreak plenty of havoc, trust me,” she said, her sassy tone returning.
“What do you mean?” She stared at me, eyes full of mischief. I couldn’t work out if it was a cruel or playful delight she was experiencing.
“I assume you are not aware that Ares has been engaged in a centuries long affair with Aphrodite?”
I swallowed hard, a distinctly unpleasant feeling crawling over me, then settling in my stomach like a rock. “Aphrodite? The Goddess of Love?”
“That’s the one, yes.”
Well, fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I’d seen her twice now, and she was beyond beautiful. Painfully stunning. No wonder Ares didn’t want me.
“She’s married to Hephaestus, so it’s not like they’re an actual item or anything, but everyone knows they’re at it,” Eris continued, pulling the blue thing from the closet and holding it up.
“At it,” I repeated dumbly. “So, the Goddess of Love isn’t faithful to her husband?”
Eris paused her examination of the garment and looked at me, eyebrows high. “Sweetie, nobody in Olympus is faithful to their spouses. Except Hades. That delicious specimen of a man is fucking exceptional.”
“Right.” If the folk around here weren’t bothered about being faithful, then hopefully that meant Aphrodite wouldn’t smite me into oblivion for kissing her boyfriend. For some reason, I found the idea of upsetting the Goddess of Love a lot more frightening than upsetting the God of War. Go figure.
“Aphrodite has been toying with my little brother for as long as I can remember, and I’ve never, ever seen him even a little bit interested in anyone else.” Another sucker-punch to the gut. Why the hell did I care? It was just a damned kiss! “Until you.”
My eyes snapped to hers. “Me? What do you mean?”
She gave a tinkling laugh. “Sweetie, if his awkwardness around you wasn’t enough, or the way he fought alongside you in the ring, then the man sitting and tended your fucking wounds should be a bit of a clue. Ares does not play well with others, and he is certainly not the nurturing type.”
I swallowed down the wave of hope and elation that accompanied her words. Ares had turned me down. He was with Aphrodite. And Eris was not to be trusted. No matter how much I couldn’t help liking her.
“So you’re trying to make me look good to cause friction between Aphrodite and your brother?”
Eris shrugged. “I don’t like her, but she creates more disruption than most of the other Olympians put together. She’s incredibly fickle, easily bored, dismissive of the rules and more manipulative than I am. Angering Aphrodite is positively a sport for me. The fallout is always worth the effort.”
I pursed my lips as I looked at her. “Remind me not to get on the wrong side of you,” I said. She grinned at me.
“When Aphrodite realizes you’ve got the attention of her pet warrior, you’ll be begging me to be your best friend.”
27
Bella
“You know, for a woman who hasn’t worn a dress in twenty years, you look damn good in one,” Eris said, as we both stared at my reflection.
I didn’t reply. I couldn’t. I was too busy trying to work out how I felt about both what I was looking at, and what I had learned about Ares and Aphrodite.
Eris had made a whole load of alterations to the dress, and she had totally nailed her earlier goal of ‘feminine, yet badass’. It was in the Erimosian style, a floaty silk skirt falling almost to the floor, but the band around the waist and hem were decorated with a gold pattern of intertwining swords, rather than the flowers it had before. The top half of the dress had been changed from blue to gold, and was wrapped tightly around my torso like mummy bandages, the gauzy fabric layered up expertly. Little capped sleeves covered my shoulders, in a shape that looked almost like armor. My newly long, wavy hair was pulled back from my face with a blue headband that matched the skirt, with hundreds of tiny gold beads hanging from it.
“Have you deliberately made me look like I’m wearing gold armor?” I asked her. Armor like Ares, I left unsaid.
“I’ve made you look like the Goddess of War,” she said. “Do you like it?”
“Yes.”
I loved it. There was no point pretending I didn’t. I’d spent my whole life trying to understand how my violent, confrontational urges and fierce temper could exist within a person who loved the theater, who loved Disney. And here she was, staring back at me from the mirror. The two halves of me that had never worked together properly, finally, melded. A freaking warrior princess.
I turned to Eris. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” she said with a smile. “Now, I must go and get ready myself. Ares will collect you shortly.”
“Wait-” I started, but she gave me a finger wave, and vanished with a flash.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. For someone who didn’t scare easily, I’d take a freaking acid-breathing Hydra over going to this ball any day of the week.
The knock on my door a half hour later made my heart leap in my chest, and I forced down my trepidation as I stood up. It was just Ares. I’d spent the last two days with him. There was nothing to freak out about.
Fire, drums, heat, passion. The flashback to our kiss tore through my mind, and I bared my teeth. Get a grip, Bella! I forced myself to picture Aphrodite’s beautiful face instead, as I reached the door and pulled it open.
Ares was in full armor and helmet, exactly as I had expected him to be. But I was clearly not dressed as he had expected. A slightly odd noise came from under his helmet, and I saw his eyes widen.
“Just flash us to the party,” I snapped, surprising myself with how angry I sounded.
“Your hair...”
“Is longer, yes. Ten fucking points for observation. Get on with it.” I could feel my face heating just being in his presence, and I was suddenly desperate not to be alone with him.
“Bella, I-”
“I said let’s go, armor-boy!” I cut him off loudly. His eyes hardened, and he straightened.
“Fine.” There was a familiar pull in my stomach, a flash, and we were back in the fighting pit.
I blinked around myself, registering the changes from when I’d last been there. The sky above us was no longer bright and clear as it had been during the day. An inky blanket of navy was lit by swirls of glittering clouds corkscrewing over my head, pastel pinks and oranges sparkling in the gloom. The sandy stage had changed too, now dotted with tall marble columns, each with orange flames flickering on top which cast a soft, animated glow over the other folk milling around. Short satyrs and slight young women moved between the guests carrying trays of drinks, and I could hear a harp playing, though could see no musicians. It was beautiful, and unexpectedly calm.