Perry handed Dita a plate with the tallest BLT she’d ever seen on it.

Dita laughed, sitting up as she took it. “How am I supposed to eat this delicious monstrosity?”

She shrugged. “Just give it a good smoosh.”

Dita took the plate and pressed the toasted top layer. There was a crunch of bacon and lettuce as the sandwich compressed to a more manageable size, so she wouldn’t have to unhinge her jaw.

She picked up a triangle and took a rude bite, closing her eyes. “Mmm. Das show goo.”

Perry looked pleased with herself as Bisoux hopped into her lap. “Bonjour, Bisoux.” He barked once before spotting Dita’s sandwich, but Perry grabbed him as he tried to wiggle away, crazy-eyed.

“So,” Perry began delicately, “wanna talk about Ares?”

The mouthful of sandwich felt like dirt in her mouth. She took a hard swallow and reached for her water. “Nope.”

Perry gave her a look.

“What? It’s over.”

“You honestly believe that?”

“Right now, it’s all I’m willing to believe. I spoke the words, did what I could to break the bond, or at least stretch it thin enough to dilute its power. I hope.” Dita took a breath, the tenuous hold on her emotions waning even at the mention of him. “I want to get away from here.”

“I know. We will. Finish your sandwich.”

Dita took another bite.

“We can talk about it in Greece. When you’re ready. If you’re ready.”

Dita nodded. It would be cathartic to be alone with Perry, out of Olympus, away from Ares. She would get it all out of her system, the whole ordeal.

She ate the middle out of the sandwich, leaving the crusts on the plate that she set on the coffee table. “That was delicious. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Perry took a breath. “Adonis said he would meet you.”

Shock shot through Dita. “Don’t drag it out or anything. Just go ahead and blurt it right out.”

“Sorry. Is there really an easy way?”

“No.”

Perry stood to leave. “Your belly is full, and I think you could use a nap. We leave tomorrow; it’s now or never.”

“I’ll take never, please.”

Perry chuckled. “Go tell him the truth.”

The truth. There were so many truths, layers of truths peeled back to find truths she’d buried, truths she didn’t want to admit.

Perry bent down to kiss Dita’s cheek, whispering in her ear, “Good luck.”

And so Dita stretched out on her couch, blanket up to her chin and Bisoux nestled in her chest, watching a flickering candle on her coffee table as she drifted off to sleep.

She stood in the meadow in Elysium, the sun on her face, warming her hair. But it could not warm her heart.

Adonis stood when she appeared, his eyes uncertain as he strode toward her, stopping a few feet away.

There was no way to begin the end.

So she took a breath and spoke. “It was not Apollo who killed you. It was Ares.”

Cognition slipped from his face and away. “He couldn’t … but how?”

“An oath. Apollo’s vengeance for his son. Ares’s vengeance for his jealousy. But it was Ares who murdered you. Apollo only conspired.”

Adonis stepped back, reeling, and sank to the grass beneath the olive tree. “How did you come to know this?” he breathed.

“Mnemosyne.”

“So, Apollo—”

“Did not deserve the punishment he endured.”

He stared at the grass, stunned. “All this time, I have been wrong,” he muttered.

“We were both wrong.”

When he turned to meet her eyes, his face was soft, his smile gentle, relieved. “This changes everything.”

“This changes nothing.”

He moved to her, brow quirked, still smiling, reaching for her face. “Of course it does. Apollo has done me no wrong. He has Daphne. All is well and right.”

“Nothing is well, and nothing is right.” She turned her face away to release herself from his touch.

“I do not understand.” His smile fell as he realized the weight of her words.

“If you loved me, if you truly loved me, you would have listened to me. You would have respected my feelings, if nothing else than to speak to me. And through all that has come to pass, I have realized something very vital.” She held his eyes, looked into their depths, and peeled back another layer of truth. “I need your respect. I need your partnership. I need you. But you cannot give, not even your heart.”

“Aphrodite—”

“Please, I am not finished.” A breath did not steel her. Nothing could. “Ares betrayed me. You do not see me as your equal. And I am lost. The only way back to myself is without you.”

“You cannot mean…”

“No longer will I lay my heart in the hands of someone so willing to throw it away.”

“But I never believed this to be forever.” He begged her forgiveness with his eyes but never with his lips.

“And so you ignored me? Avoided me? Did you wish me to wait idly by for you to decide it didn’t matter to you? Do you realize that, in your leaving me, I discovered the truth of my feelings for you and yours for me? I was abandoned, and in solitude, I found perspective. I found truth. And I will no longer live a lie.”

He had nothing to say, sitting dazed before her, not even standing to face her. She wanted to scream, to cry, to beg him to fight for her, to fight for them. But he wouldn’t. He couldn’t because he didn’t love her.

And with that understanding, her heart hardened until it was nothing more than cold stone in her chest.

“I have loved you for so long, but that love was a lie. I wanted you, but I have never truly known you, not as I should, not as I believed. And your love for me is not what you believe it to be. We have idolized one another, the distance making everything we feel seem more than it is. And it can’t go on.”

She knelt down, touching his face, looking into his eyes, eyes that had worshipped her, eyes that saw her for the first time. He had nothing to say, and neither did she, save one word.

So she kissed his lips, whispering it against his mouth before she walked away.

“Goodbye.”