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It was obvious to me that he was looking for a specific bit of information. I had no idea what specifically he was looking for. “Well, I love to read and write. I guess I'm boring,” I said while grimacing. Trying to subtly signal I want to change the subject.
“Why do you say that you're boring?” asks a curious Ov. Pressing hard once more in his unrelenting fashion.
I feel overwhelmed.
“Well, I'm not sure what else to talk to you about. I didn’t live in a castle or even the nicest of homes.” Saved by the bell. The servant returns with a large tray holding several bowls, plates, two teapots, teacups, etc. Ganymede then places a glass filled with amber liquid in front of Ov.
“What’s that?” I tilt my head in the direction of the glass as Ganymede bows to us both before taking his leave.
“Ambrosia,” Uncle answers lazily while swirling the liquid in his cup. “Would you like a smell? Don’t drink it though. It can be highly intoxicating for mortals.”
Extending the goblet, the god shoots me a crooked grin.
Part of me craves to press the liquid to my lips but sheer determination holds me back. “Interesting.” Handing the ambrosia back over to Ov was even more difficult.
Just like what Apollo supposedly gave me. With every meal of gruel, a small vial comes on my tray. Growing larger and larger in size. According to the Sung God, he is trying to build my tolerance.
This may just be my chance to compare what Ov’s drinking with what Apollo provides.
Cautiously, I move forward. Taking the offered cup, I pull the goblet close to my face as I smell the liquid. The fruity smell of wine fills the air. Possibly the best aroma I have experienced. Curiosity fills me, wondering what it would be like to taste the liquid. Rolling the glasses, I'm surprised at how thick the liquid feels even while rolling it around. But the color was unforgettable. As amber as Apollo’s eyes. Like I was staring at the sun in a cup.
My mind whispers for me to take one sip.
Gods. I wanted to sip that liquid so bad. Trying to pull my mind from it, I instead turn to my tea. Taking a long drag. Focusing on the flavors of my incredible drink, I push the thought of the gold liquid from my mind.
When Ov reclaims his goblet, I watch as he gives me an amused look. “You have a strong will.” Raising his chalice to me first, he then brings it to his lips. “Your strength will serve you well here.”
Nodding to him, I reply with a curt, “Thank you.”
“If you're looking for the man with the answers, it's him,” Ari muses. Her voice feels faint. Like she’s trying to be as unnoticeable as possible. Though why she’d have a change of heart on that score now is confusing to me. I’m the only one who can see her, and she knows it. Ari whispers, “The trick is getting him talking enough to find the answers you're looking for.”
Sipping the tea, I brace myself. Thinking of the questions that I need to know. I ask, “What kinds of things do you do in the palace? I know Athena is the head of the guard. Artemis appears to be next in line should anything happen to Apollo.”
Placing a scone between his lips, Ov takes a bite before replying with a voice full of charisma. “Oh, my darling, there’s such a wide variety of the most mundane and boring tasks. I wouldn’t even know where to start nor would I want to bore your pretty little face to death. Now that you’ve heard about my family, tell me about yours.”
Has he told me anything about his family?
No.
Well, maybe I'm becoming forgetful. It’s been a heck of a week.
“He’s using you,” Arista whispers in my ear. “Don’t let him make you doubt yourself.”
Giving him an innocent look, I replied, “You haven’t shared too much about your family…” I mildly accuse the advisor. Not willing to let him walk all over me. Especially with Ari confirming what I thought I already knew.
Steepling his fingers, Ov gives me a perplexed look. Staring at me, he says, “I have actually talked a lot about me—”
I interjected, “What happened to the old King?” Choosing to ignore him, I hope that he'll answer my questions for a turn.
He sighs loudly and he sits silently. As though assessing my stubbornness. “There was a coup. Zeus made enemies in this world. He pushed to become King of Olympus.”
Raising an eyebrow, I ask, “Wasn’t he already a king?”
“Well, no. Zeus was once a Lord of Caelum. But he had eyes for something bigger,” Ov elaborated. “Every thousand years the Council of the Thirteen Gods would vote on who’d lead the council. Zeus had grown comfortable. Complacent even. Believing that since he was elected once, that he’d always be in power. When the very notion of power shifts to one of the other courts, everything changed.
“Zeus attempted rather brazenly to create a monarchy. The fool tried to strip the other houses of their power without believing that anyone would stand in his way. He assumed they’d blindly follow him, under the slogan of ‘Uniting Olympus’ or something. Those who were once aligned with Zeus made alliances with other houses. His children especially sought out what the other courts would provide them with and how others could suit their goals.
“Ultimately, Zeus failed to take control and was thrown into the deepest parts of the underworld through Tartarus, the capital city of Erebus.” Ov sips his ambrosia. His cheeks are flush from the alcohol.
