The Lovestruck Goddess. Aimee Carter

      “Don’t ‘oh, darling’ me,” I snap. I’ve never been so sharp with him in my entire existence. “This is my life, not yours. One son’s as good as the other to you anyway, so why don’t you just let me choose Ares? Hera will still be angry.”

      Although, if I was the one making that choice, maybe she wouldn’t be. The morning she came to speak with me, the day of the council meeting where we were supposed to vote on whether to remove Daddy as head of the council—Hera tried to give me a choice. Maybe only because she wanted to dethrone Daddy, but I like to think it was more than that. I like to think she really cared—if not about me, then her sons.

      I would’ve voted with her, too. And it’s a damn shame she interfered before I had the chance to say so.

      “I chose Hephaestus because I thought he was the best candidate,” says Daddy. “I see what you and Ares are to each other, and that isn’t the sort of love that lasts, my dear. Fire can’t burn forever.”

      I blush. “You paired me up with Hephaestus because he asked you to, not because you thought it through.”

      “Both of my sons asked,” he says. “And I put a great deal of thought into it. You must look beyond the surface, my dear. Hephaestus will love you—”

      “Not the way I want to be loved.” I wipe my eyes again. I’d give anything to make them stop leaking. “What will it hurt to let me choose?”

      “It would hurt you.” He reaches for me again, but I sidestep him a second time.

      “So you’re saying I’m too dumb to choose for myself?”

      He frowns. “Of course not—”

       “Then let me choose.”

      “Darling, I have eons of experience—”

      “I don’t care about your experience.” I stomp my foot. I’ve never actually done that before, and it seems silly even when I’m in the middle of it, but it’s strangely relaxing. “I care about my life. I love Ares, he loves me, and we want to be together.”

      Daddy is silent for a long moment. “Do you truly believe that spark will last for eternity?”

      I sniff. “Of course.”

      He watches me. The sun streams in from the balcony, making me see spots, but I don’t look away. I can’t. There’s too much at stake for me to blink.

      At last he sighs. “Aphrodite, I am sorry, but I cannot go against my instincts. I love you far too much to let you hurt yourself in such a way. Or allow you to give Ares the chance to hurt you instead.”

      He may as well have hit me, too. Slowly I straighten, squaring my shoulders and drawing in every bit of my power. “So be it then,” I say. “If you won’t give me my freedom, then I’ll just have to take it, won’t I?”

      I spin around and march out of his office, holding my head high. To his credit, he doesn’t try to stop me, but then again, maybe he thinks I’m too weak to go through with it.

      Fine. I’ll just have to prove him wrong, then.

      I walk purposely through Olympus as I search for Ares. We don’t have to stay here. We have a right to rule over our own lives, and if we let Daddy win this battle, he’ll keep at it until he wins the war. I love him, but he doesn’t get a say in this. Not anymore.

      I find Ares in his chambers. Rather, I don’t so much find him as I hear him from all the way down the hall. He’s yelling at someone, and his voice echoes too much for me to make out the words at first. I hurry to the archway, but I come to a dead stop when I see the scene inside his room.

      Everything’s a wreck. His bed is overturned, the silk curtains I hung on his walls have been ripped down and the array of weapons he usually keeps so organized are scattered across the floor. A particularly sharp ax is even buried in the wall, inches from the exit into the hallway.

      And standing in the middle of the whole mess are Ares and Hephaestus.

      “She’s mine,” Ares bellows, and he thumps his chest with his fist. His rage is palpable, and he glows a faint red. “Not yours, little brother—mine.”

      Hephaestus flinches. “You’ve said that,” he says quietly. “But she is not a possession.”

      Says the boy who asked his father to give me to him. I snort, and both heads turn in my direction.

      “Aphrodite?” says Hephaestus. He steps toward me, but Ares blocks his way with a wicked-looking sword.

      “Stay out of this,” says Ares, giving me a look. That same fire is in his eyes, but this passion isn’t for me. It’s for the fight.

      “Why, so you two can have it out and decide who gets to marry me instead of letting me choose for myself?” I move toward them, sidestepping a massive shield. “Do either of you actually care about what I want?”

      Hephaestus opens his mouth, undoubtedly to claim he does care, but Ares cuts him off. “Now isn’t the time. I will speak with you once I’m through with Hephaestus.”

      Ares glares at me, and for once, I don’t flinch. I’ve had enough fighting for one day. If they want to go to war over me, then so be it. I won’t be sticking around to see it, or to give the winner his prize.

      “Fine,” I growl, and I turn on my heel and leave. Storming into my chambers, I start to pack. I don’t have many things to take—a hand mirror decorated with pearls that a nymph gave me before Daddy found me, several of my favorite pillows and a reflection of Daddy and me playing on the beach. Even though others shower me with beautiful things, the only items I really care about are the ones with love attached to them—with sentimental value. No matter how angry I am with Daddy, I can’t leave those things behind.