Poseidon rested his head on her lap and gazed up at her. Her eyes were vacant as she stared ahead, and her lips were marked with self-inflicted bite wounds. Yet to him, she was still beautiful.

  It has been a full day since her husband's death, and she has yet to give a satisfactory reaction. Even having her dressed in a black chiton, the see-through type that guaranteed humiliation, had triggered nothing but more lip biting. Her vacant stare remained as she was led through the opulent hall holding revelling gods, dancers and servants.

  Her husband had been a delight, offering a rich array of emotions before he was reduced to ashes. But things had taken an… intriguing turn with Rea. She had sensed something amiss the moment he embraced her, despite her husband's face masking his own. Not that it mattered. He always preferred his lovers reluctant.

  What Poseidon had found both amusing and mildly infuriating was this stubborn insistence to remain absent yet present. In a bid to get a reaction, he’d killed her son instead of giving the child his blood as he initially planned. And she had flatly watched, not even turning away at his last moments.

  How? Did she hate her family? No-no. Poseidon shook his head. Rea loved her family, especially that bumbling scholarly husband of hers.

  Maddening curiosity and determination burned in Poseidon. This was good. This was very good. It's been centuries since he last witnessed a similar composure in the face of sudden tragedy.

  Smiling, he brought a finger to the corner of her battered lips and pushed it up. "Come on, Rea. Would you not smile for your husband?”

  Though her husband’s face was average at best, he still wore it for her sake, but she wouldn’t even look at him.

  “Ah, blood. You know?” Poseidon brought her limp, cold hand to his lips and kissed it. “You remind me of a burrow anglerfish. Elusive creatures found in the Neerid Deep. They have this…this hanging lamp extending from their head, packed full with aether.”

  He rubbed the back of her hand against his jaw and continued talking. “Disturb its habitat, catch it, expose it to sunlight. It pretends it's fine. Pretends it's fine. Swimming in circles for days and days—even months, pretending it's fine. Then suddenly!” Poseidon clapped. Not even a flinch from her. “It bursts like an overripe hupa melon, offering the most bountiful harvest of aether.”

  Tightly embracing her slender waist, Poseidon pressed his ear against her chest. From the moment he harvested her little town, he’d been listening. The heartbeat never lies. “Rea. Rea. Rea. My lovely anglerfish. Keep pretending you're fine; it’ll be worth it in the end.”

  And by Nyx, where was Athena? Poseidon scowled as he looked beyond the gauzy curtains of his booth. Were his calculations wrong?

  Theologos’ stone slab and her encounter with the hag must be shredding that over-analytical mind by now. To cool off, she’d visit Tartarus. The plan was to make it seem like their second encounter in less than two days was purely coincidental.

  “Do you know…” Poseidon flicked his wrist and held a pulsing red stone between two fingers. “Your husband and child are not dead… yet.”

  He was past expecting a reply, but he showed her the stone anyway. “Their lives are an offering. A gift to the gods who permit mortals to exist.”

  To Poseidon's shock, her gaze dropped to the stone. Even though her eyes remained empty, at least she’d looked. He responded to her reaction like a thirsty man, pleasure racing through every vein.

  “You looked! Haha.” He grinned up at her, but she resumed her forward stare.

  Poseidon sensed the shift in the air before the sound of the harps and flutes lowered to silence. Athena’s aura, a mix of jasmine and something else, wafted into the hall as the tall doors silently swung open. The hall manager, a robust low deity, huffed over and offered a bouncy bow, which Athena accepted with a gracious smile.

  Flanked by her Owls, she strolled into the hall, the flare of her aura forming a bright halo around her. As she went, she offered greetings, a needless show of humility and false interest Poseidon could never understand.

  Did she ever tire? The endless pomp, the ostentatious aura blazing around her. The overcompensation and ridiculous lengths she went to maintain that virginal, kind facade when she was depravity personified.

  Poseidon did nothing to expose his location. Athena would sense his presence even without using the tracking gift awesome father Zeus had given her. He clenched his fist over the red stone, causing it to disappear.

  As expected, Athena paused when she reached his booth. “Poseidon? What are you…”

  Her eyes travelled to Theologos’ widow, and she shook her head. “She’s still alive?”

  Poseidon shrugged, giving off the air of someone uncaring if she joined him or not. “Maybe this one will succeed in carrying my child. Who knows?”

  Athena’s expression soured then suddenly brightened as if she remembered she was playing a role. “Let me join you.”

  She settled into the recliner across from him. “So, what's this about fathering a child?” She smiled as she spoke, tone soft and irritatingly lilting. He wished she'd drop the act.

  “Nothing says I can't try other fruits while I wait for the best to ripen.” Poseidon plucked a grape from a fruit tray and chewed thoughtfully. “Besides,” he patted Rea's belly. “This one has birthed a child before. Evidence of fertility, you know?” He winked at Athena, blatantly ignoring the slow shift in her expression.

  Be angry. To get what he wanted, he needed her well distracted.

  “This is not part of the plan,” she spat through gritted teeth.

  Pausing mid-chew, Poseidon took in Athena’s frown. She excelled at holding on to things. Hate. Love. Obsession. Impossible ambition. Years and years and years, yet her claws remained firmly dug in. And that ability to easily express genuine emotions. He envied her for it… bitterly.

  Sitting up, Poseidon gestured for the widow to leave as he reached for his goblet of aged honeyed wine.

  Athena also shooed her Owls away and set up an aether dome for privacy. “Tell me what's crawling in your head. Why do I feel like you planned this meeting?”

  Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

  Curse that quick wit of hers. “That's hardly the case. I was having a pleasant evening with my wife when you barged in and made things uncomfortable.”

  The corner of Athena's lips twitched.

  “What? Laugh if you wish to. My proclivities may be unique, but who are you to judge?”

  Chuckling, Athena shook her head and poured wine into her goblet. “Are you serious about trying with that widow?”

  No, he wasn't. “Of course I am.”

  “Can you be a little patient?” Her voice turned sharp with irritation. “She looks half-dead, a corpse walking.”

  “She's very alive. Trust me. Oh—” acting like he just remembered something, Poseidon's expression turned thoughtful. “You must have heard about Ares.”

  “What about him?”

  Poseidon paused, unsure if her curiosity was planned or genuine. What he heard about Ares had come from one of Hermes’ foremost informants; they were known to rival Athena’s Owls with how quickly they got information.

  To test his suspicion, he released the news in doses. “He was spotted at Plutus’ northern den just yesterday.”

  “I know that.” Seeming disappointed, Athena took a sip from her goblet.

  “Hmmm… then you know that he recently chose a contender.”

  The flare of her aura instantly vanished, making the place appear dimmer. Poseidon grinned on the inside. How marvellous. One or several of her Owls will die tonight. How could they miss such an important detail?

  “Speak the truth.” Her eyes… There was a wildness to them that only appeared when Ares was involved.

  “Why should I lie?” He popped another grape in his mouth, biting down until the juices erupted in his mouth. For one, he knew Athena had already prepared a contender as a ‘gift’ for Ares. That he had suddenly gotten a contender would shatter whatever plan she had with the red god in mind.

  Resisting the urge to burst into laughter, Poseidon emptied his goblet and poured himself another drink. “I'm surprised the child managed to escape your eyes.” Very unexpected. Did it have something to do with Demeter? The girl was in her school after all.

  Athena rubbed the rim of her goblet against her lips, an enraged but thoughtful look on her face. “Just give me a name,” she said.

  “May, daughter of Venetis.” Probably an alias. “I hear she’s cursed. Ares’ luck is enviable.” It was uncanny how easily Ares had gotten a fitting contender. Something wasn’t right. He’d lived too long not to recognise odd patterns, and this one felt unfavourable.

  “She?”

  Poseidon laughed, and it was refreshingly genuine. That Athena was more concerned about the child's gender than her curse proved that her senses fled whenever Ares was involved.

  Poseidon wiped the corner of his eyes. “Worry not. I heard she looks like a wall and is fourteen.”

  “Why would I worry?” She asked bitterly as she shrugged a slim shoulder.

  Such bleeding lack of self-awareness. “No need for pretence. Ares isn’t like you and me. Your worry is unfounded.” All that filled that dog's head was war, death and his dead lover from ages ago.

  Now that Athena's thoughts were scattered, Poseidon revealed the main reason he planned all this. “I have a favour to ask.”

  “Hmmm,” she answered distractedly.

  “The Helm of Darkness. I need it.”

  She speared him with a sharp gaze. “And why do you need one of my toys?”

  “Plutus has been rather irritating recently,” Poseidon said with breezy calm. “I wish to satisfy some curiosities of mine.” No way he'd tell her the real reason.

  She peered at him, appearing unconvinced and unmoved.

  Huffing an annoyed breath, he tossed the red stone. “Here.”

  She caught it with a swift hand and smiled. “Plutus must have pushed things too far.”

  Poseidon shrugged. “Is the exchange good enough?”

  Resting her elbow on the arm of the recliner, she continued observing him. It was clear she didn't believe a word he said about Plutus. Not that he cared. The Helm would keep her from knowing his location and also make what he was about to attempt possible.

  “Fine.” She flicked her wrist, and the helmet appeared over her open palm. “Have your fun, but return it in a month.”

  Dark soot wafted off the helmet like smoke, and its full black plum ruffled as if shifted by a gentle breeze. Zeus was unfairly partial to Athena.

  “You're most generous, Athena.” As he drew the helmet into his dimension, he stood and pecked her cheek before whispering, “Take it easy on the red heads.”

  He vanished before she could punch him in the face.

  ***

  It took five circles of aethersteps before Poseidon reached the boundary of Phorcydes’ domain. The helm would afford him only one breach. But that was fine. After the bogs, he had two other stops. He planned to visit Ceto just to see how she was doing. It was all curiosity. Simply that. It had been too long since he had seen her face. Demeter would come last. Was she still angry? He hoped she was. And he was eager to meet the cursed child who managed to become Ares’ contender.

  The rippling dome of Phorcydes’ domain was dense and aggressive, something that had been absent when Poseidon and Athena visited the day before. Such a brilliant but lethal use of aether.

  Any attempt to pass through without the Helm of Darkness would trigger a reaction powerful enough to rip him apart. It would take days to recover—that’s if the hag would let him off her property. Yes, he was the god of the ocean and earthquakes, but there was something… wrong about the power Phorcys’ family possessed.

  The plan was to observe, not confront, but the buzzing was already starting. Poseidon held his hands before his face. They trembled with anticipation. This was good. This was very good. If he played this right, he might even plant a seed in the child's mind.

  He stretched an arm and touched the force field. Usually, he was unaware of things like his heartbeat or breath, but now he was aware of both. This excitement. Why did he not think of this plan earlier?

  The domain pushed against his palm like a living thing, but its resistance was weak. Shutting his eyes, he let the helm take care of the rest. It felt like walking through thick water, but the sensation vanished as quickly as it came.

  Poseidon was standing on the other side of the hag’s domain, perfectly undetectable with the sun on his face. Like a ghost, he walked through trees, glided over stagnant bog waters without causing a ripple and stepped into the wide yard of the hag's home on silent feet.

  He’d expected to find the child playing outside, but the space was empty. Aside from the occasional croak of a frog, the chirp of insects, and the rustle of leaves, there was only silence. Perhaps, he chose a bad day to visit.

  Already feeling disappointment, Poseidon took measured strides up the wooden steps, walked through the closed door and glanced about. Empty. And so was every other room in the house.

  He’d just decided to give up when he heard it. Voices. Changing his route, he passed through the back door and walked into the backyard.

  To Poseidon’s disappointment, the child was sleeping on a mat next to the hag. He couldn’t possibly try anything…huh? He took in the scene before him in mild confusion.

  The Opsianian was seated on the ground with her back exposed to the hag. The hag, in turn, muttered words in Theos tongue as she smeared blood across an intricate spread of silver tattoos.

  “None but our descendants have ever carried our blood.” There was a gleeful light in the hag’s eyes, like someone who had come upon a treasure they’d never part with.

  Something didn't feel right. Why was the hag suddenly creating a blood carrier?

  “You must win the games, Lela.”

  The girl nodded, fierce determination hardening her face. “I will.”

  It suddenly occurred to Poseidon why the hag would bother creating a blood carrier in the first place. The clever wench. He barely stopped himself from letting out a disbelieving laugh.

  “There exists a place known as the Hall of Recompense,” she continued in a grim voice. “When you win, insist that Zeus grant you passage to free a certain prisoner.”

  He assumed the hag took Athena’s Owl just to flaunt her power, but this… this was something else entirely. Turning around, he retraced his steps. It was obvious who she intended to set free, and that must never happen. He hadn’t come this far to lose it all now; his plan would need an overhaul.

  Until next Saturday.