Lore’s blood turned to ice in her veins at that single word. Her.

“Ask yourself why she would agree to help you—why she has come to you now, when you are so close to all that you have dreamed of,” Belen said. “She and her sister planned to kill you and all the other new gods, and now she wants to pay deference? She is cunning—she will take your plan, she will take it, and she will kill you—she will destroy you, Father. Please—”

“Father?” a soft voice repeated.

Athena stood at the edge of one of the lantern’s lights, her eyes glowing in the darkness.

Lore’s pulse spiked and sweat broke out across her body. Belen’s head whipped toward the goddess, his breath visibly catching.

“Father?” Athena repeated again. “My great lord, I would not have expected one as powerful as you to have a son so sniveling and weak of will.”

Athena moved to stand beside the new god, a dory in her hand. She, too, was dressed in a short ceremonial robe, this one of the purest white, her skin coated in that same shimmering gold. Her armor was as substantial as Wrath’s, as was her helmet. It was studded with what looked to be diamonds and sapphires along its white plume.

The hatred Lore felt looking at them now was breathtaking. All the rage she’d told herself she didn’t need, that she didn’t want, came boiling to the surface.

She forgot her calm, she forgot her plan, she forgot everything but the shame he had tried to use to extinguish her line and his desire to take her life away from her, even as a little girl. She saw nothing but the face of the man who had wanted to destroy her family, and the merciless goddess who actually had.

Wrath angled himself toward Athena, setting his broad shoulders back. He gripped his helmet, but one hand drifted toward the sword at his side.

“She will betray you—she will destroy you, the way she has all the others,” Belen said, this time with real fear. “Listen to me—she’s fed you lies! You don’t need her!”

“I have spoken no lies,” Athena said coolly. “The great Wrath and I are meant for this—we have always been meant for this. The meeting of the old way, and the new. The first Ares was weak, too prone to tempers and madness, and the most hated of my father’s children. But now I have found a worthy partner in war—the balance of strength to my strategy—and a new king to kneel to.”

Belen shook his head. “That—that can’t be true—”

“Do you call me a liar?” Athena asked sharply. “I owe my lord Wrath my allegiance after he graciously told me of the new poem, of my father’s wishes. I am pleased to serve him as he makes his final, true ascension.”

Bile rose in Lore’s throat; even after everything she had done, Athena’s words, her soft, cloying tone, felt like another betrayal. On the roof of the town house, Lore had told her everything—her past, her fears—and she had believed the goddess, she had felt Athena’s own suppressed anger and frustration.

You may call that complicity, and perhaps it is, Athena had said. But I deemed it survival.

It had to be an act, but it was one the goddess had willingly lowered herself to.

“The Gray-Eyed One is the wisest of all beings,” Wrath said, preening at her words. Believing every one of them, the way only a man who saw no faults in himself could. “She has proven herself worthy to serve me. . . . Tell me, how have you? A boy—one who cannot even fight—dares to question my judgment? Dares to believe himself wiser than Athena herself?”

Belen shook his head, backing up until he hit the edge of the flatbed.

“My great lord,” Athena said, watching the young man with a look Lore recognized. Silent victory. “As you know, all great ventures must begin with a sacrifice seeking favor from Zeus if they are to succeed.”

The new god turned toward his mortal son.

Every part of Lore seemed to heave forward, even as she stayed in place.

Belen had time to whisper, “Please—” before his father drew a small hidden blade from a sheath at his forearm and slit his throat.

Blood whipped up against the tank with the force of his strike. Belen fell to the ground, his body twitching as his frantic heart pumped the last bit of life from him.

Wrath watched him die, dark elation spreading over his face. When the young man was finally still, he bent down and placed a hand on his son’s throat, coating it with blood.

Athena looked on, her top lip curling.

Rising again, Wrath pressed his palm against the tank, leaving a dark smear on it. He backed away, his gaze fixed on it. Slowly, he brought his fingers to his lips. To his tongue.

He didn’t turn around again as he spoke, but his voice carried the words across the distance between them. “Daughter of Perseus.”

Stay with me, Lore thought one last time as she gripped the straps of the aegis and stepped into the station.

“How good of you,” he said, “to bring your god one last gift.”

HIS VOICE WAS LIKE the slide of a reptile’s scales against skin, stirring an unconscious, primal sort of fear.

Enemiesss, the voice hissed in her mind.

Lore gripped the straps of the aegis tighter, imagining the gods cowering before her under its power. But the thought didn’t fill her with satisfaction.

No, she thought back. I’ll need your help, but not for that.

Lore had her own fury, her own strength, and she wanted them to fear her, to know that she had been the one to defeat them.

Her gaze didn’t waver as she met Wrath’s eyes. He laughed as she approached, the aegis held high, one hand resting on the hilt of her sword. The sound echoed around them, multiplying until it became a roar. Lore refused to look at Athena, but tracked her at the edge of her vision as the goddess spoke.

“How cunning you were, my lord,” Athena said, voice low and smooth, “to have sent your hunter to give the descendants of Odysseus false intelligence.”

Lore’s breath caught, burning in her chest.

“I did what you could not,” Wrath said, with a condescending tilt of the head. “I drew the little bitch out of her hiding place and got her to bring my shield to me.”

The movement was slight, but telling. Athena straightened at my shield. But when she spoke again, the words revealed nothing but deference. “Indeed. Shall I fetch it for you?”

The hair on Lore’s body stood on end at how subtle the play was.