The Divine Comedy || bloodlines

Hera

ARIANA

October, fourteen years old

TO HEAR CAMILA TELL IT, the gods never stooped to earth. They reigned from on high, elite and above it all. They rarely passed on word to their children, barely even an omen to suggest they appreciated their devotion. Octavian had the difficult task of distinguishing message from coincidence, and he had privately confessed he could never be certain of what was true and what was not. Except for today, at least.

The augur sat on his altar, Jupiter's golden might a looming shadow behind him. He stared at his silver blade, either trying to read his own expression or the fate of the world itself. "You say she appeared with a lotus staff?"

"Yes."

"A goatskin cloak?"

Ariana crossed her arms, trying not to feel as if she were on some sort of trial. "Yes."

Octavian pursed his lips, dagger blade laying against them. His feet barely brushed against the marble floors, and his eyes were rimmed with gray as if he hadn't slept in days. "The goddess...Juno rarely extends her favor." He shook his head, caught up in his own mind. "Rarely, even for the gods. The last time was the original Jason, thousands of years ago. For you to have received her attention..."

A heavy silence gathered, as dampening as one of her husband's storms. The lightning bolt in Jupiter's hand seemed to glow as the daylight rose, casting golden rays upon his immortalized stature. It was hard not to feel insignificant under such a gaze; Ariana wondered if he could see through those eyes. She wondered what he thought of his wife and her new "champion".

"She didn't give me any details about what she wanted," Ariana said, clearing her throat. "I'm going to a school in Maine, and a car will be here in three hours. That's all I know."

"And you're certain this is not a ploy from the Titans?" Octavian asked, though he sounded doubtful of the possibility himself. "I've heard rumor that the dream god wishes to defect to their side."

Tightening the cross of her arms, Ariana did her best to breath out her memory of the summer. It had marked her ascension, a rise to the rank of praetor, but at a price she did not wish to remember paying. It was worse for Octavian—it had been his brother's life.

"Camila and I have practically drowned ourselves in intelligence," Ariana said. "Not one of our spies suggests that they have made moves in this direction."

Octavian frowned. Ariana had no liking for him beyond their professional obligations, but he seemed strikingly concerned at the possibility of her demise. "That doesn't prove it's not a trap."

"A trap would make itself seem like the next best step." Ariana gestured with her hands, pointing at both Jupiter's statue and the rising dawn. "This could not be more out of the way, more suspicious. This is a test of faith from the gods; Jason carrying Juno across the waters. In my position, greeted with your ancestor Apollo, what would you do?"

Octavian met her eyes, reluctant to give her his obvious answer. His silence was answer enough, but Ariana wanted to hear him say it. She wanted him to admit it. "I...suppose I would do as he asked, despite the risk involved."

"And you will vouch for the mission's legitimacy in front of the senate."

Ariana wasn't asking, and Octavian seemed to understand that. This was an order from his superior, a praetor to her augur, and he bowed his head in a nod. A smile broke out across Ariana's face.