Siren.
Her entire being was wrapped up in that one word. Her only reason for existing. When she’d buried Cynurus deep in her mind, she’d buried all her mementos of him in this box as well. But she’d never forgotten. She couldn’t.
She opened the box, peered inside, extracted the drawing she’d done of Cynurus one night when they’d been relaxing in his home and he thought she was reading. And as she stared at the ancient picture, which was well preserved by the perfect Olympus air, she compared the man she once loved with the one she’d given herself to just today.
They looked nothing alike. Cynurus’s features had been more refined, more aristocratic. Orpheus’s were rugged, a little bit wild. But there was something similar in the slope of the nose, and the eyes…they were exactly as she remembered. Slate gray, deep set, and as intense as ever.
Why hadn’t she noticed that right off?
Her heart leaped beneath her breast, beating so fast it was a painful whir in her chest. How could she have loved someone so much yet not really known him? How could she not have seen the darkness of his soul? Back when they were together, she’d never once anticipated he could betray her. She hadn’t wanted to believe it. Had told Athena she was wrong. And then she’d seen the proof, from Zeus himself.
The gods had no reason to lie. And proof was proof. Yet…she still hadn’t been able to kill him when Zeus ordered her to. But she hadn’t stopped his death when her sisters had come to finish the job she’d started.
And now, nearly two thousand years later, a Fate had stepped in and given him another chance. What did that mean? Did it mean the gods were wrong? That he’d served his time? Surely a Fate wouldn’t bring him back if he was truly as black as Athena and Zeus claimed.
She took a deep breath, let it out, repeated until the sharp stab was nothing but an ache just beneath her breast bone. Guilty or innocent, it wasn’t her job to judge him, was it? Her job was to find out if he was really looking for the Orb.
So she’d use their connection to get close, pair up, and discover what he was really after. Learning that Athena had kept secrets from her for so many years changed everything as far as she was concerned. And the fact a Fate had stepped in to give him another chance…well, that told her there was something happening beneath the surface. Something even the gods didn’t want her to know.
She wouldn’t be a sheep led blindly into the night anymore. But if he was only after power and revenge, she’d do what she was trained to do, ex-lover or not.
She’d kill him herself. And she’d bury what he’d once meant to her forever.
Chapter 6
This had been the day from hell. Not only had Athena nearly lost her patience with the most recent of her Siren recruits—gods, was the blessed well of recruits getting stupider by the hour or what?—she’d had to deal with her half brother, Ares, and she made it a point to avoid the conceited god if she could.
He was pissed at Poseidon for some slight he deemed reprehensible and he wanted Athena to send a few Sirens to fuck with the Lord of the Seas. Like she had time for that? Or wanted to take on Poseidon right now? She had her hands full with Zeus and Skyla and this whole damn Cynurus/Orpheus debacle.
Gods almighty.
She pushed Ares to the back of her mind, ran a hand over her hair, and climbed the marble steps to the archives. Inside the massive marble building, the scents of paper and ink met her nose. Columns lined the inside of the library, flanked by enormous wooden shelving units tricked out in decorative moldings. She wove through stacks of ancient leather tomes and stopped when she came across Skyla in a back corner, sitting at a mahogany table, books open all around her. “I thought I’d find you here.”
Skyla glanced up, then refocused on her books, jotting notes on a piece of paper at her elbow. “Not a stretch, when you know this is where I come to do research.”
The Siren was still pissed. Well, Athena couldn’t blame her for that, now could she? “Does this mean you’ve decided to move ahead with your duties?”
Skyla flipped the book closed, pushed to stand. She was still dressed in the same clothes as before—black shirt, fitted slim pants, and kick-ass goth boots—but unlike before, her hair was pulled back in a slick ponytail and her makeup was fresh. And she was wearing her fighting gear—the leather breastplate with the Siren stamp and the leather arm guards that reached her elbows. “It does.”
The Siren didn’t sound excited. But at least she seemed resigned. That was as much as Athena could hope for.