Page 8 of Perfectly Matching Again

Because this particular Olympus dweller would not impart useless wisdom. And she had zero inferiority complexes.

“I see you have relinquished your duties to cavort with unsuitable creatures, sister.”

Hera stepped into the cabin with the power of twenty suns. Helios only knew how she did it, but she radiated, all vicious light and villainous smirks. No, this goddess had no complexes at all. Beautiful in a decidedly evil-and-reveling-in-it way, powerful in an absolute fashion and an inconvenience in every universe, Hera reigned even after Zeus divorced her. Even after all her schemes had failed. The aura of her presence, the fear shestruck by simply standing tall and proud, blocking the entrance and hence Erato’s hasty exit, were very much overwhelming.

Erato didn’t resent her for calling her a creature. Staying out of Hera’s path had been her goal for centuries and she had managed to do so admirably. She’d not be surprised if the Goddess of Matrimony had no idea who she was. Erato preferred it that way.

Judging by Demeter’s reaction, it would no longer be possible. Erato sighed, and stepped forward. She hoped that Hera would spare her face. She was so very proud of it, after all.

“Ah, I believe Aphrodite spoke to you earlier and everything is being taken care of.”

The reactions of the Goddesses in front of her could not have been more different. Hera lifted an eyebrow in that stupidly attractive fashion Olympians always had and finally gave Erato a full appraisal. And Demeter? She stared, her hands now clutched at her breast. Was she surprised? Maybe astounded by her foolishness to dare to speak to Hera? Erato didn’t know. And she didn’t care. Hera being here, narrowing her eyes, giving the two of them her full attention was never good.

“I see the creature speaks…” Oh yeah, the low growly drawl bordered on a crime. Erato shivered but stood her ground.

“Ma’am—”

“So polite.” Hera glided closer, now a mere breath away from Erato. Cold eyes pierced and held her gaze. “Tell me sister, was it her politeness that made you bed her? What was it exactly that forced you forsake your duty, delay spring and threaten famine on half the world?”

Demeter straightened and opened her mouth but no sound came. Erato was on her own.

“With all due respect?—”

“Save it, Muse.” Hera’s tone brook for no dissent and Erato snapped her jaw shut.

“I thought this would be a pro forma visit. I’d come in, impress upon Demeter that she was being reckless in whatever sordid one night stand she allowed herself to get into. But from the looks of it, it isn’t that simple, is it, little sister?”

Erato did not appreciate the way Hera ground out the word sister. There was coldness in it, calculation. But then Hera was always calculating. Erato gulped—she’d been doing it a lot lately—and held the chilly gaze.

Hera smirked.

“Your muse has gumption, Demeter. I like that. In fact, I like that so much, I will not do what I felt was necessary to ensure my sister’s full attention is back on her duty. I will allow your muse to live.”

Yes, she was immortal and thus all of this was entirely ridiculous, but Erato still felt relief so unexpected, she swayed on her feet. Was Hera really here because she planned to throw Erato off Mount Olympus? Another gulp was in order. She was too beautiful, devastatingly so, to die this young. Several millennia were not enough for all this gorgeous devastation.

“I think you’ve mistaken your place, Hera. She has nothing to do with anything, and I know very well what I’m doing.” Demeter’s tone did not sound all that strong, nor did it hold any of its usual calmness or authority but Erato felt it in the very center of her being. Demeter was standing up for herself. And maybe even for Erato.

“And what pray tell is my place, little sister?” Hera turned to face Demeter fully and Erato could swear somewhere above them thunder rolled. Hera glowed with a vicious kind of hue, sucking all the light from the room.

“It’s not to instruct me what to do.” Demeter’s voice shook and Erato, on pure instinct, reached out a hand and touched her elbow. Hera’s eyes followed the movement, gleaming with malice. Surely it was malice?

“I can tell you what to do, little sister, and I will. Or have you forgotten who fixed everything the last time you were “in your feelings”?”

“She is my daughter and you allowed your husband to bargain with her like she was nothing!” Demeter’s cry was sorrow itself.

“That is the life of a woman, Demeter. The life of an Olympus Goddess. We all know what it entails. You, of all of us, know better…”

Silence reigned. Demeter’s arm grew cold under Erato’s touch. Something was coming. Something was about to be thrown their way.

Hera turned from them and moved towards the still open door. Outside, a storm was wrecking its way across the sea. The deck was empty. Just as Erato was about to breathe a sigh of relief, Hera spun around and gave her one last look.

“You will fix this, little sister. And to ensure that you do, I am binding you to the muse. Until spring arrives, you two shall never be away from each other. If, as you say, she has nothing to do with anything, and if you are in control, prove it. Spring needs to arrive. Crops must flourish like no other season, and then both of you shall be free.”

A golden ribbon latched itself to Erato and Demeter’s hands, the binding soft yet surprisingly powerful. Before she could tug and test it, Hera’s smile widened.

“And don’t make me come back and find you, Demeter. Resolve your issues, or you’ll regret it. Your little temper tantrum is interfering with my plans, and you know how I am. I never share center stage.”

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