“Wow.” At least the first words out of Ares’s mouth are appropriate. We stand on a collection of boulders smoothed down by time, and across a clear pool is a waterfall. Vines of pink and purple flowers hang down each side like curtains, and above us the sunset stains the sky.

“This is my favorite place in the world.” I squeeze his hand. “Other than wherever you are, of course. And you being here makes it perfect.”

Ares wraps his arm around my shoulders, every trace of his earlier wrath gone. Being away from Olympus will do us both some good, but Ares needs it more than I do. He needs to see the beauty in all things, not just in conflict and blood and war.

We stand there for several minutes, soaking in the last of the sunset. As soon as the indigo of night seeps into the sky, I lead him across the edge of the pool toward the waterfall. “Come on,” I say. “I’ll show you where I grew up.”

He follows me, and though he doesn’t say anything, I can feel his wariness. None of the gods except Poseidon—and me, of course—are comfortable around water. It isn’t part of them, just like the Underworld isn’t. But he doesn’t complain as we both step through the waterfall, and his bravery is well rewarded. On the other side, in a hidden grotto, is my home.

Over the years, I’ve brought little things here, and little things add up over time. The nymphs must have known we were coming, because a cozy fire crackles in the middle of the cave, illuminating everything with a warm glow. A nest of pillows inhabits an entire corner, more than enough for both of us. Jewels hang from the ceiling, sparkling in the low light, and my collection of reflections hover on the walls, attached by a thought. If a mortal were to stumble across this cave, they’d be horribly confused. Most of them believe in us, but believing and seeing are two entirely different things.

“Do you like it?” I say. Fresh grapes wait for us on a golden platter, and I lead Ares to the nest of pillows.

“It’s incredible,” he says, for once not trying to act like he’s above it all. “This is where you grew up?”

I nod. “It’s my secret place. And you’re my secret now, too.”

He kisses me with that same bruising passion, his fingers tangling in my hair as he lowers me onto the pillows. The sting of leaving Daddy behind still cuts me, but it isn’t forever. Just long enough for him to apologize and let me marry Ares instead.

A choice. Love. Devotion. It isn’t too much to ask for, and Daddy will wear down eventually. He has to.

* * *

I’ve never been very good with time. I can tell you how long a day is, of course, and a lunar cycle. But eventually everything sort of blends together no matter how alive I feel.

That’s what time with Ares is like—a whirlwind of living. We explore the entire island together as the days trickle by, and for the first time ever, I feel like the center of someone’s world. There’s nothing like it, being someone’s sun, and I lose myself in Ares and our life together.

Years pass—it must be years, because the mild seasons change, and I’ve nearly forgotten the scent of Olympus—and we have a son. At first I’m not crazy about the idea of being a mother. I’m too young, I still have too much to do before I’m tied down like Hera, and half the time I forget to take care of myself, let alone a baby. But Eros is the sweetest little thing I’ve ever seen. His blond curls, blue eyes and rosy cheeks are all mine, but his focus and intensity are Ares’s. And his chin. Definitely his chin. I’ve never seen Ares as happy as he is the moment a nymph lays Eros in his arms.

But on the day he’s born, my world shifts, and Eros becomes my sun. I think I see it in Ares’s eyes, the way he looks at me cradling the baby, though neither of us says it aloud. It’s the happiest moment of my life, but it’s also the moment our paradise starts to change.

“You still love me, don’t you?” I murmur three days after Eros’s birth. He’s my timepiece now, my moon and my stars, and I won’t ever forget a day he existed. I’m curled up in the nest of pillows, cradling Eros as he sleeps. Ares sharpens his sword by the fire.

He pauses, and resounding silence replaces the screech of stone against metal. Somehow the sound doesn’t bother the baby. “Why do you ask?”

His reluctance to give me a yes or no answer makes doubt coil inside me, hard and cold and impossible to swallow. “Eros. I just wanted to make sure—nothing’s changed, has it?”

He sets his sword down and joins us in the pillows. He hasn’t touched me properly since before Eros’s birth, but now he gathers me up, his hand splayed across my back as he buries his nose in my hair. “I love you,” he says. “Do you still love me?”

“More than ever,” I whisper, and it’s the truth. Somehow, even though I thought it wasn’t possible, my heart’s swelled. I loved Ares with everything I had before, but now there’s more—enough for Eros, and even more for Ares.

The fire crackles, and Ares traces my lips with the pad of his thumb. “I have to go tomorrow. There’s a war brewing, and I’ve neglected my duties long enough.”

I feel like someone’s poured a bucket of cold water over my head, and that doubt returns, thicker than ever. “But—why? You don’t need to fight.”

He chuckles, but there’s no humor in his laughter. For a brief second, he looks at me the way he did in Olympus all that time ago, when he and Hephaestus argued. Like I’m a child. Like I don’t understand. “And if I told you that you don’t need to love?”