Page 24 of Edge of Stars

“Seize her,” she dictates without another falter. “What the hell else do you think you should do?”

Weirdly, perhaps maniacally, I almost succumb to a laugh. By this point, Hermes’s bafflement is bordering on comical.

“Ermmm…goddess? Are you cert—”

“Damn it, Hermes. Detain her, now. That chit’s baby brat is the complete key to our victory!”

“What? Baby?” But the god is clearly still recovering from Kara’s new power surge on its own, apart from the information bomb she dropped along with it. “I don’t—”

“You’re right. You don’t.” She swings the grimoire high and brings it down on the god’s head. Hermes falls at once, buckled into a prostrate pose, but there’s no escorting string of apologies—puzzling, until I realize she’s turned him into a new statue for the room.

“Why do I have to do everything myself?” the goddess mutters, whirling back toward Kara and me. “Will I have to wage every battle of this war alone, as—aggghhh!”

I blink a couple of times. Double the count for shocked head shakes.

What the hell’s going on now? How—why—has Hecate literally been pounded to her knees too? How has she been knocked there so hard that her precious cargo has popped several feet out of her grip?

Before I can start on postulations, mercy comes quickly.

An answer. A damn fine one.

A distinct growl rolls across the air, shaking the sanctuary windows with its accompanying clap of otherworldly command.

“Leave them alone, Hecate.”

The witch queen rolls to her side, indicating that the thunder’s probably pummeling her brain worse than the walls. Not a shred of sympathy answers from my own head or heart. It feels too good to be acknowledging my flood of relief. But that doesn’t stop me from drying out my next words to the point of gallows wryness.

“Hey, Pops. Took you long enough.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

KARA

Confusion threatens to derail my concentration—but most importantly, my fury. I don’t give in, still pulling strength from the vital life I’m sharing this body with, knowing it’s far too early to expose anything to Hecate but my rage.

Especially as the witch stumbles back to her feet.

She winces and pins me with tearful eyes, all but begging aloud for mercy. I grit my teeth, refusing to surrender a sliver. Zeus and Maximus lend me more conviction with their furious expressions, and I gratefully embrace the hotter fires of my own seethe.

But I’m not merely grateful.

I’m giddy.

Because I’m free. Cut loose from the disguise I’ve been torturously keeping up for the goddess. Pretending, to excruciating degrees, that I know nothing about her ultimate scheme—and her plan to use me as the ultimate instrument of her violence.

I can’t take it anymore, nor do I have to. I’m so happy, it’s impossible to be sorry for exposing the secret of our sprout. If I had to do it all over again, I’d even let her sing about it. There’s no denying a minor twinge about the timing, which could’ve been hours or days or weeks better, but the aftermath still feels so right that I don’t dwell. There are better things to think about now.

Starting with the glare I’ve already got ready for her.

I hold nothing back, no matter how flustered she is while clawing stray curls back from her face. All my denigration and disgust is here at full force, and it’s amazing. Nothing’s going to change that, not even the tiny wonderings about how and why Zeus is enjoying his own fresh taste of freedom.

Is it as simple as the obvious? Did the book that’s now in his grip lend a cosmic life ring? Which came first: the goddess’s golden egg, or his royal Olympian chicken? And if it’s the former, what will happen if Hecate’s able to summon the spell book back?

Oh, God.

What’s going to happen if she claims even more power over the room—and her king?

What if this is just the beginning of it all for her?