This is his place. He can come however he likes.
“Hey,” Odysseus said, and pushed Athena’s hair back over her shoulder. She’d seen him do the same to Cassandra, and to Calypso. It shouldn’t bother her that he did the same thing to her. It shouldn’t make her feel so strangely jealous.
“I need to walk.” She stood.
“I’ll keep an eye on the undead princess.” Odysseus made a face. “Don’t be gone long.”
She nodded and went, not sure where or how far she intended to go. But walking didn’t feel as good as she’d hoped. Passing by the strangely shadowed walls and listening to the hateful whisper of the Styx should have felt better. Even the complete lack of wind across her face and arms should’ve felt amazing, because Odysseus was alive.
Alive for the time being. And not of her doing, but Ares’. Ares, and Aphrodite, and she’d probably been a fool to accept their help.
Except for maybe the first time in his life, Ares had been a gift, and you didn’t look a gift god in the mouth even if he was a treacherous, violent, hateful ass. No matter how many problems it was going to cause with Cassandra. No matter how little Athena actually trusted them. Even the traitorous feeling she got every second she allowed Aphrodite to live was worth it for Odysseus.
“You shouldn’t wander so far. Not with Hades on his way.”
Athena turned. Aphrodite stood a few steps behind. She’d always been light and quiet on her feet.
“I didn’t wander far,” Athena said, but in truth she had no idea. Distance played tricks in the underworld, just like time did. She shouldn’t have gone off by herself at all.
Aphrodite stared into her face, big blue eyes steady and somehow just as disturbing to Athena as if they’d been rolling and mad.
“What?” Athena asked.
“There are too many emotions running through you. Set some down.”
“Just because you got a few of your marbles back doesn’t mean you can psych me,” Athena said. “Be careful what you say now.”
“I’m only trying to help,” Aphrodite said, and frowned. “You need to talk.”
“Not to you.”
“To who then? Dear as he is, Ares doesn’t solve problems with words. And Odysseus you would never show your belly to. I know you, Athena, as sure as I’ve always disliked you. I just never understood you until now.”
Athena narrowed her eyes.
“I fall in love and suddenly I’m relatable.”
“Yes,” Aphrodite said. “Part of you is mine now, and that bothers you more than anything. You’re not above me. Not better than me.” A little heat snuck into her voice. A trace of bitterness. “Part of you wants to turn him away just to prove me wrong. But don’t. I’ve always known about your envy. The same way you always knew about mine.”
“I never envied you,” Athena said. “And you have a one-track mind, as usual.”
“I know that’s not the only thing.” Aphrodite shrugged. “There’s fear, too. And guilt.”
“Fear?” Athena asked skeptically.
“Yes. So many new things for you,” Aphrodite said. “You’re guilty because you dove off of Olympus and left them alone to fight. And you’re afraid because even if you hadn’t, they would have lost anyway. Goddess of battle. You’re not what you once were. None of us are what we once were.”
The words stung. Athena still had so much pride. Even though she knew that it was her pride that had almost cost them everything.
“Those moments outside Olympus,” Athena said. “I replay them over and over. I try to stop myself from running in. Try to make myself listen.”
Aphrodite inclined her head sympathetically.
“I used them like soldiers,” Athena said, “when I had no right to. I still thought of myself as their god. But their fates aren’t mine. I’m not worthy of them anymore, if I ever was.”