SAFE . . . reyna ramirez-arellano

56 - loose cannon

VENUS KNEW HOW to do tea.

It made Briar mad.

Her mom led them to the central pavilion in the gardens — a white-pillared gazebo, where a table was set with silverware, china cups, and of course a steaming pot of tea, the fragrance shifting as easily as Venus's appearance — sometimes cinnamon, or jasmine, or mint. There were plates of scones, cookies, and muffins, fresh butter and jam — all of which, Briar figured, were incredibly fattening; unless, of course, you were the immortal goddess of love.

Venus sat — or held court, rather — in a wicker peacock chair. She poured tea and served cakes without getting a speck on her clothes, her posture always perfect, her smile dazzling.

Briar hated her more and more the longer they sat, which she didn't even know was possible.

"Oh, my sweet girls," her mother said. "I do love Charleston! The weddings I've attended in this gazebo — they bring tears to my eyes. And the elegant balls in the days of the Old South. Ah, they were lovely. Many of these mansions still have statues of me in their gardens, though they called me Venus."

"Which are you?" Annabeth asked. "Venus or Aphrodite?"

Briar's mother sipped her tea. Her eyes sparkled mischievously. "Annabeth Chase, you've grown into quite a beautiful young lady. You really should do something with your hair, though. Reyna Ramirez-Arellano, my, my daughter really has chosen well for herself. You could do something more with your clothes. As well as you, Hazel Levesque—"

"My clothes?" Hazel looked down at her rumpled denim, not self-consciously, but baffled, as if she couldn't imagine what was wrong with them.

"Mother," Briar snapped, ignoring all rules of being a polite guest at a dinner. She'd propped an elbow on the table, her head in her hand as her other forearm laid sideways on the table. Her legs were kicking back and forth, because she needed an outlet for the energy she's gaining. Her hair draped on the table next to her, and she was pointedly ignoring the food on the table. Even if she loved chocolate chip scones and she was the teensiest bit hungry. Spite and anger overruled all of the decisions she could make. "There's nothing wrong with what my friends or my girlfriend look like. Also, I thought that you were the one who made us confess our feelings? Unless you were lying to me when we talked last."

Briar's mother's expression flickered, though it was only for a split second. "Sure, there's nothing wrong, but I can improve them. Not everyone can look like you, Briar. I could do a quick makeover for Reyna, Annabeth, and Hazel, perhaps silk ball gowns like mine—"

"Mother!" Briar took the flower in her hair and tore out multiple petals without blinking.

"Fine," Briar's mother sighed. "To answer your question, Annabeth, I am both Aphrodite and Venus. Unlike many of my fellow Olympians, I changed hardly at all from one age to the other. In fact, I like to think I haven't aged a bit!" Her fingers fluttered around her face appreciatively. "Love is love, after all, whether you're Greek or Roman. This civil war won't affect me as much as it will the others."

Wonderful, Briar thought. She continued relieving the flower of its petals as a voice in her head said, just release it. Take out all of your anger on her.

Hazel nibbled a sugar cookie. "We're not in a war yet, my lady."

"Oh, dear Hazel." Venus folded her fan. "Such optimism, yet you have heartrending days ahead of you. Of course war is coming. Love and war always go together. They are the peaks of human emotion! Evil and good, beauty and ugliness."

She smiled at Briar and Reyna. Briar resisted the urge to just squeeze her hands around her mother's neck. Wait, where had that thought come from?

Hazel set down her sugar cookie. She had a few crumbs on her chin, and Briar liked the fact that Hazel either didn't know or didn't care.