Page 4 of The Cursed Chalice
Apollo stands slowly and sneers down at me. “That a mortal’s love is fickle—fleeting, even—and giving up your power for it is refuse.”
“Let it be written, let it be heard,” Zeus says. With a rumble and flash of lightning, he disappears.
One by one, the gods disappear. My mother looks at me and nods. I know she will be at my side soon. The chains fade away from my hands.
The hall is empty. I stand slowly and pick up the chalice, looking at the entwined leaf design and the woman sitting on it like a throne.
“Ares.”
I turn, and Aphrodite smiles sadly at me. “Enough, my love. Beg for my forgiveness. Love me, and I can have Zeus change his mind about this decree.”
I smile smugly. “Talia’s soul is worth more than Olympus.” I stare into Aphrodite’s eyes. “Even more than yours.”
She takes a small step back as if I hurt her. Aphrodite bows her head and wipes her eyes. “You threw Olympus away. Us, away, for a mortal who died screaming your name.”
Her words cut me like a blade.
She watches me, and her expression is unreadable. “You didn’t save her.”
My breath leaves me. “Go away, Aphrodite.”
“You failed her,” she sneers. “And now to save her, you will have to kill a new love.” Her voice shakes with rage and jealousy.
I shake my head, trying to clear my mind.
“I love you, Ares.”
“I never loved you, Aphrodite.”
She sniffles. “I know.”
The marble splits wide open. I reach for Aphrodite on instinct. Darkness swallows everything.
Present Day
“Ifeel like I can’t breathe,” I whisper to myself, looking out into the courtyard and watching guests fill the seats. Some are chatting, others laughing. It’s such a joyous occasion, but why don’t I feel joyful?
On the television mounted in the corner, a familiar jingle announces the E! News segment. I knew it was coming.
“Love is in the air, and the air is rare,”the host reports.“E! News just confirmed that bad boy billionaire Elias Thorne is officially tying the knot with his long-time fiancée Soraya Maude, a talented art restoration expert at the Balmont Museum.”
Of course. They make it sound like a fairytale, when it’s a goddamn nightmare.
“While this bad boy is known for his media empire and his parties,”the host chirps,“she is quietly preserving history one art piece at a time.”
“I can’t do this.”
“Can’t do what?” Luigi, my makeup artist, slicks gloss over my lips.
“Nothing.” I force a small smile, just as the TV continues to spew “the official,” love story. “The pair are reported to have met in France at the Cannes Film Festival four years ago…”
My gaze moves to the TV, watching pictures of Elias and me, happy and in love.
“They have kept the relationship on the down-low until now.”The host continues,“According to sources close to the couple, the proposal was at Elias’ mansion in Balmont. The setting at the beachfront was complete with champagne, a string quartet, and a custom ring designed with her favorite art period in mind. #Teamimpressionism.”
“Elias and Soraya are totally different individuals, but they complement each other.” An insider gives us the tea. “He is chaos, and she brings the calm.”
Chaos and calm. If they only knew that his chaos was mean and abusive. I wasn’t calm; I was terrified prey.
