Page 97 of Edge of Stars

But now that Maximus has recounted the first part of his story, my mind readily pulls up the rest of it—and quails.

Because the pantheon, while probably ready to understand and absolve, is probably ready to do something else with my sister. Something that even a Hollywood upbringing didn’t prepare her for…

A shock that makes me weirdly grateful to Arden for stepping up again. If this next part is going to roll out like I predict—and dread—then our friendly neighborhood incubus and his acrylic-coated delivery might be the best call.

“After the Titanomachy sealed Cronus’s political fate, Zeus diced him into small chunks. The pile was taken to the center of hell, where the pieces were scattered across the icy lake around the castle.”

A disgusted groan spews from Kell, saving me the trouble. I’m pretty sure she’s actually turning green around the edges, which has me wondering if I’ve become the first pregnant mutant ninja turtle. A month ago, I was gazing out over that lake from my prison suite in Hades’s castle. I’ll never forget that awful expanse of ooze and how it was like a living beast with the moans of the hopelessly damned…

Including Maximus’s grandfather.

I’m ready to frantically excuse myself, certain the few bites I had at the reception are about to hit the ejection button from my belly, when Arden is again my unknowing benefactor.

“Hades is meeting with his counselors as we speak, deciding how it’ll all go for Zeus. Obviously the Lake Cocytus ice makes the most sense from a security standpoint. But mingling father and son in the same wasteland, where they’ll have nothing better to do than stir and bicker… Well, we can all write the stories from there.”

As he adds the inference, discomfited grunts vibrate out of Maximus. His throat clenches with them until the tension radiates up, also claiming the bold outlines of his jaw. “Tell me they’re not just going to make him a fancy keepsake urn and stow it in the library.”

“Pandora has actually been summoned as a consultant, but no,” Arden returns. “I’ve been authorized to inform you that they’re considering the backswamps of Styx or the third circle slush. I’m certain the decision will be made soon.”

I push my hand tighter across my abdomen, notifying the acid it’ll now have to wait for its turn. Maximus, and the increasing tension on his face, take much higher priority. I stand next to him as he forces his shoulders to roll back, a contrast to the probing regard he maintains on Arden.

“You’ve been authorized, eh?” he states. “But that’s just the warm-up announcement, right? It’s not really why you’ve just zapped yourself thousands of miles with an armed Olympian guardswoman at your side.”

“Shit,” Kell cuts in, her chest pumping harder with every passing moment. But through some miracle, there’s not a single waver in her voice. I’d be secretly fist-bumping her if I wasn’t so consumed with stressing out for her. “I knew it.” She impales Arden with an unblinking glare. “You’ve come for me. To…collect me. Right? I’m already a wanted woman in Olympus?”

Regina’s lips play against each other, almost as if she’s suppressing a wave of mirth. “If that were the case, I’d be here with my commanding officer, the goddess Themis. Who, incidentally, smells a lot better than this bloke.”

Arden pushes forward, snubbing her remark. “You’re not wanted, Kell. You’re needed.”

“Needed? How?”

She rocks back farther, scrutinizing the new look on her fiancé’s face. I admit that the subtle change in Arden’s mien is baffling to me too, especially because Maximus and Jesse seem to have already figured out the demon’s direction. The thing is…they don’t look comfortable about it.

“Arden, I need more to go on here,” my sister demands. “I’m not getting any of this…”

Until, with an abrupt jerk, she does. The jolt she gets courtesy of the incubus that pulls a monstrosity of jewelry out of his pocket: in actuality, only a single purple gemstone, though it’s the size of a decent river rock and set in enough gold filigree to line several hallways of Versailles.

It’s a piece only made for figures like popes. And kings.

“Oh, holy shit,” she reiterates from between clenched teeth. “All right, I get it now.” She whips her head back and forth. “And no, I do not want to get it. No, no, n—”

“Kell.”

“I said no, Arden.”

“You don’t have a choice, megaleío.”

His tone is tolerant, but his intention isn’t. My chest throbs with the surety as soon as he brings out that word.

Megaleío.

Majesty.

Arden doesn’t waste time to speak again. He abandons his quiet croon for decisive declaration.

“The king of Olympus is dead.”

He circles around, directly meeting each of our stunned stares, before positioning himself before my sister once more. He holds out one hand, the huge purple stone nestled in his palm. He lifts it higher while dropping to one knee.