I swallow. It seems impossible, but maybe he does understand. Maybe that’s the difference between him and Ares. After all, it was Ares who left me for what he thought were adventures more exciting than our life together, while Hephaestus scoured the earth trying to find me. If I left this island, would Ares do that? Would he search until he found me, no matter how long it took? Would he exchange his immortal form for pain and hunger and thirst just to have a chance of being with me?

I don’t know. I can’t think. Everything spins around me until I have to squeeze my eyes shut, and even in the darkness, I can see Hephaestus’s face. I can’t do this. I can’t choose. No matter what Hephaestus says, one day he’ll grow jealous. It’s natural. Even if he wouldn’t on his own, Hera will poison him against me, and our days would be numbered. And Ares—with him, I don’t even have the illusion of choice. But at least he loves me. At least he came back to me.

After years away without a second thought, while Hephaestus searched endlessly just for a chance to tell me he loves me.

Dammit. I bite my lip, and in my arms, Eros lets out another soft cry. That’s enough to draw me back down to earth. He’s my sun, my rock, my world, not Ares. Not Hephaestus. He’s the thing I love most in this world. And no matter what choice I make, I will always have him.

That doesn’t make it any easier, though.

“Please go,” I whisper after an eternity passes. “I need to be alone.”

My eyes are shut, but I feel the heat of Hephaestus’s palm hovering over my cheek. He doesn’t touch me, and I’m grateful for it, but I still feel a keen wrench of loss when he pulls away. “I’ll always be here for you and Eros, no matter who you choose,” he says. “Never forget that.”

I’m quiet as his uneven footsteps echo through the cavern, and at last it’s silent, save for the crackle of the fire. I sink into the nest of pillows and hold Eros tight. He seems to understand my turmoil, and he wraps his pudgy arms around me. I sigh into his hair. What am I supposed to do?

“I see he’s gone.”

My eyes open. Ares stands beside the fireplace, warming his hands. He stills wears his armor. What good he thinks it’ll do him here, I have no idea.

“I’m not surprised you didn’t recognize Hephaestus,” he says. “I didn’t until he punched me. He has a slight twist to his roundhouse—a sort of signature. Took me a moment, but I caught on soon enough. Ridiculous, isn’t it? Bastard must be desperate, barging in while I’m gone, trying to wreck our life together.”

I snort. “What life together?”

The words are out before I can stop them, and Ares looks as if I’ve slapped him.

“What do you mean?” he says in a cautious voice, the one that means he’s seconds from flying into a rage.

“I mean—” My voice breaks, and I clear my throat. “I mean you haven’t been here. In the past two years, you haven’t even bothered to check in on us, to visit Eros to make sure he knows who you are—none of that. You left me. You left us.”

He gapes at me, and the silence between us is so heavy that I think it’s going to suffocate me. At last he clenches his hands, his face growing redder by the moment. “I have duties. I don’t abandon them.”

“Are you saying I’ve abandoned mine?”

“Of course not.” His jaw is clenched now, too. “I came back to you.”

“For how long? Another three days? A year? Two? How long before you leave us again? And how long will you be gone next time? Two years? Ten? A century?”

He slams his fist into the rock wall so hard that the earth around us trembles. Eros starts to sob, and I cradle him.

“If that’s the way you want to see it, Aphrodite, then be my guest. But don’t you dare act like I’m the villain. I wasn’t the one who kissed my husband’s brother.”

“You—” My voice shakes. “You’re not my husband.”

“I would have been. I wanted to be. I came back to propose, you know. To tell you we were going to face Father and make him see that together, we’re undefeatable. Apparently I was wrong.”

He storms out of the grotto, once again leaving Eros and me. I don’t call after him. I’m too stunned for that. Was he really coming back to marry me? To have a life together, one I’d always dreamed about?

Or did he say that in the heat of the moment to make me feel even worse than I already do?

I hate myself for second-guessing him. I hate myself for thinking he’s capable of that kind of emotional brutality. But I’ve seen the blood on his armor, and the sword isn’t his only weapon. Ares always wins his battles, no matter the cost.

I spend the rest of the night crying silently. Ares doesn’t come back, nor does Hephaestus. I don’t expect them to, not really, but part of me hopes they will. A very large part of me. I can’t decide who I want to see more though, and that’s the part that hurts the most.

The next day, Eros and I play on the beach, and this time, when sunset comes, we don’t go back to the grotto. I gather him up in my arms, and staring into the rosy sky, I push myself upward toward Olympus. Toward home.

I don’t know who I’ll see or what I’ll find, but I do know one thing for sure: this has to end. And before it can, I have to make the hardest decision of my life.

* * *

I land in the middle of chaos.

On the floor, Ares and Hephaestus are locked together in battle while the council all shout over one another, forming a symphony of noise. Hera is the most vocal, despite her recent shaming and demotion, and she stands beside her throne, yelling so hard that her entire body glows with power.