Rhea began to tend a bush with tiny white flowers. “You know my stance on war,” she said. “I cannot support it in any way.”
“Please.” James screwed up his face. Going against her was clearly painful for him. “If you don’t help us return Cronus to Tartarus, he will destroy humanity and kill us if we’re lucky. If we’re not, we’ll spend the rest of eternity as his slaves. Without Hera, we aren’t strong enough to fight him on our own.”
Placing the blossoms she picked into a basket, Rhea said nothing. After nearly a minute, James’s shoulders slumped, and I knew it was hopeless. Not even the threat of extinction was enough to convince Rhea.
I scowled. It was one thing to not want to fight on either side of a war—I wasn’t crazy about wielding a sword and running screaming out onto a battlefield either. But this was different. “We’re not asking you to fight,” I said. “We’re asking you to help us prevent more deaths.”
“I know my husband,” said Rhea. “If I were to get involved, I would be forced to fight, and I will not hurt a living creature no matter their intentions. That includes Cronus.”
“Even though he’ll kill billions of people and nearly the entire council in order to get what he wants?” I took a deep breath, forcing myself to stay calm. Getting upset wouldn’t help matters. “You know as well as I do that inaction isn’t supporting peace. It’s turning a blind eye to what’s really going on. And without your help, we will lose.”
James reached for my hand, but I pulled away. If he wasn’t willing to fight, then I would.
Rhea slowly turned toward us. Her serenity vanished, replaced with frigid disapproval, and I steeled myself against it. She could dislike me as much as she wanted. I wasn’t going to back down.
“I would be no help to you regardless of what I did. My husband will not listen to reason,” said Rhea. “I will not raise a hand against anyone. My children are much better served by what I do here.”
“But your children are dying,” I said. “You could stop that. You could save their lives—you’re the only one who can. If you don’t, they’ll die, and it’ll be because of you.”
The moment the words left the tip of my tongue, I knew it was the wrong thing to say, but I couldn’t take it back now. I glanced at James, a silent apology and plea for him to help me. He stayed silent.
Rhea straightened, her powerful gaze focused directly on me. “No, daughter of Demeter. They will die because of you.”
My face burned, and it took everything I had not to run out of there as fast as I could. How did she know? Could she sense the guilt floating inside me, buoyed by every life already lost because of my stupidity? “My name is Kate. And I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t know—”
“Ignorance is not an excuse for the consequences that result because of it.”
“You don’t think I realize that?” Hot tears stung my eyes. I’d never hated anyone as much as I hated Rhea in that moment. Not Walter. Not Calliope. Not even Cronus.
No, that was wrong. I hated myself more than I could ever hate any of them.
“He has my son.” My voice grew thick, and my hands trembled. “For some unfathomable reason, he wants me to be his queen—”
“It is not unfathomable,” said Rhea with unnerving calm. “You showed him kindness and understanding when no one else has in millennia. Even the most blackened and twisted of souls cannot help but respond to compassion.”
I hesitated. “How do you—”
“I know everything I wish to know.”
I bit my lip. “Then you must realize why this is so important to me. You know what I promised Cronus. You know what he’s been doing to me, the sick—”
“I am aware,” said Rhea. “And you have my sympathy. Standing at his side does not make you his equal in his eyes, and it is a hard life, one you do not have the power to fight.”
“I don’t, but you do,” I said. “Henry’s your son, right? He’s dying. He needs you, but instead you’re here with strangers—”
“No one who walks this earth is a stranger to me.” Her eyes flashed, a strange combination of the sun and the ocean. “I am not neglecting my son. He knew the consequences of his actions when he committed to them, and it was a risk he was willing to take to save you.”
I exhaled sharply. She wasn’t listening. She didn’t understand—or maybe she did, and she just didn’t care. “What about my son? He’s Henry’s, too, you know. And he’s your grandson. His name’s Milo, and he’s not even a week old. Why does he deserve to be raised by Cronus?”
Rhea said nothing, and I couldn’t stop the flow of words that poured from me now.
“He’ll never know me. He’ll never know his father. He’ll grow up calling the bitch who kidnapped him his mother, the egomaniac who’s killed millions of people his father and he’ll never know that I’m out here loving him more in a moment than they could in an eternity. What could he have possibly done to deserve that?”
“Nothing,” said Rhea softly. “Your son has done nothing to deserve that, as the people of this village have done nothing to deserve brutality and starvation.”
“Then help him like you’re helping these people,” I begged. “Please, I’ll do whatever you want—”