Page 20 of Edge of Stars

And here’s my lesson about having classified the god so swiftly. Because here’s the energy I never expected from him, even after the adoring look in which he swathed Hecate upon his initial approach. One peek inside his spirit, and I already know. The idol worship goes deeper. Much deeper. He’s in such complete awe of her, it’s ballooning into stark uncertainty. Like a cult member who’s new to his movement, scared of what’s about to happen but more fearful of missing out on the center of the glory.

In short, a disciple who hasn’t been vetted all the way.

Though now, as I piece together several chunks of information, I have a damn good guess about when he was recruited. And how.

“Oh, my God,” I blurt into the silence that chases his strange accusation. “Hermes…also known as Namazzi. It…was you…wasn’t it? The one they were targeting last month, at the EmStar awards. The Pendry’s catering team was responsible for the post-ceremony hospitality suites…”

“Ahhh.” He presses a finger to his chin, nearly coquettish about it. “No mama-to-be brain for this one, Goddess. She does remember so well.”

I move my head though am unsure about the weak wobble. I’m still not totally certain about my accusation, though his remark should be validation enough.

“Yes,” I say, pressing harder on the point. “You were there, and hovering over every industry player that you could. Was that the goal? To literally be whispering in the media’s ear? Setting them up to side with the best team once the assault on Olympus went live?” A new waver takes over my head, and I feel like a dashboard doll fighting off the fade from his smoggy sunset scrutiny. “Hermes, please tell me…that’s not…”

But it is. I sense it from him before I see it push through his handsome intensity, so slick and easy, a declaration of belief that’d be breathtaking if it weren’t so insidious.

“I am nobody’s target, darling. But when the best opportunity of one’s entire existence is dropped into his humble lap, it’s best to pay close attention.” But the statement, sounding so final, isn’t his ultimate point. That belongs to the context of the next moment, as Hermes pointedly arches his brows in Maximus’s direction. “Wouldn’t you agree, Mr. Kane-Valari?”

CHAPTER SIX

MAXIMUS

It’s not what the asshole’s just implied. If it made anything easier for Kara, hyphenating my name would be the easiest decision since choosing my college major. Despite the circumstances of our first ten minutes together as wife and husband, they’re still the best six hundred seconds of my life.

It’s the totality of Hermes’s implication. The allusion that I’ve used Kara, and her family, as some career stunt.

A lot like the one he’s just pulled off.

Cockroach.

I’m sure the same slur spills out as I lunge for the smirking insect, taking hold of him by the lapel of his burgundy velvet suit. It’s the only reason I don’t repeat the word while hauling him up until he’s grazing the floor with the toes of his matching spats.

“She’s my wife now, you shit-dragging basement beetle. Call her an opportunity again, and I’ll ruin that thing in your pants until you can’t tell the difference between a boner and a piss.”

For a long second, the bastard believes me enough to flinch. Not long enough. Once I loosen my grip, the cosmopolitan act is back.

“Ah, well. Suit oneself, I suppose. But don’t come groveling when I’m nipping nectar and caviar in a suite in the heights of Olympus while you two puzzle how to raise your brat in a tenement off of 5th and San Juan.”

“Is that what she’s told you?” The interjection belongs to my scoffing—and never more beautiful—bride. “What she promised you?” She jogs her chin up. “A promise, I suppose, without filling you in on the potential risk. The very full cost.”

The god scoffs. “Ohhh, little one, do you imagine me a green welp? Do you honestly believe this is the first flower attempted in this fine meadow?” And then he bristles while tapping at the curls that have escaped at his temples. “Every seed carries risks. Every new growth could be a bountiful tree or a rotten weed. There are no guarantees. Every commitment carries costs. But these odds…I am willing to accept. I am committed to nourishing. The harvest is too important, for every denizen of Olympus. I will water these seeds with my own blood if necessary. These grand victories will soon be ours.”

“Yes, they will.” Hecate straightens and lifts her head. She circles it around with dramatic pretension, posing as if she’s not borrowing the stance from predecessors like Vlad the Impaler, Queen Bloody Mary, and Caligula. “In spite of what the disbelievers claim.” She rolls an incriminating stare over Kara and me. “Dare I say because of them? Oh, yes. Perhaps I do.”

Before she finishes, Kara’s pulling up her own stance—but on her, the rigidity turns into a queen’s stance that Hecate will never achieve. “All right,” she states, scarily close to a taunt. “Go ahead and say it, goddess. As loudly as you want, as vociferously as possible. Because it will be your last chance to do so for any kind of an audience that’s capable of listening.”

“Nonsense.”

“A profound truth from a perfect queen.” Hermes bows so low, I wonder if he’s intending on a curtsy as follow-up.

But Kara’s already thinking faster, with three times the determination. She faces off with the god, her stare still set and her posture as high as Hecate’s.

“Your loyalty is admirable, Hermes. And, given so many other circumstances, even justified.”

The god looks ready to fling another indignant glare. Instead, he dials back to the disdain that probably feels safer. “I don’t need justification. I have the truth.”

“Right. That,” Kara counters. “Because she’s given you the full dossier of details about why her cause is worthy, right? Page after page about how she plans on confronting Zeus and changing the universe forever. She likely also said you’d be a vital part of that change and would have a unique place in the history of all the realms. How you’d be venerated once again by all the humans, restored to the initial glory that the entire pantheon enjoyed. Let me guess… Were there mentions of temples and feasts? Perhaps even orgies with virgins?”

Hermes flinches as if she’s struck him. Then seethes from tight teeth, “Stop. Stop it.”