Her feet felt like lead, but Hermes had no problem guiding Mineekas through the crowd to the rear of the pavilion where a considerably less amount of bodies converged. Unusually, he didn’t poke fun at her nervousness and didn’t tell stories to make her anxiety mount. Instead, Hermes talked about Johnny Dune, a character he’d just stumbled across in the DC comics he consumed like ambrosia. Mineekas didn’t pay the conversation much attention (she wasn’t a fan of comics like he was), but his easy tone helped ebb her urge to flee.

Luckily, Hekate’s wafer still seemed to be in effect. Mineekas’ stomach was the only part of her that hadn’t gone into turmoil at Hermes’ announcement.

Sooner than Mineekas liked, Hermes stopped outside a small tent that had been constructed beside the pavilion. Unlike everything that surrounded it, the tent was unassuming. It looked like it’d been around since the Fates awarding Purposes had been made into a spectacle.

Hermes kissed Mineekas hand. Seriousness etched his face as he eyed her. “You’ll be okay, you know.”

“But where will I belong after all is said and done?”

“Where you need to.”

Mineekas didn’t like his answer, but Hermes gave her no opportunity to argue. Without warning, he opened the flap covering the tent’s entrance and shoved Mineekas into its dim depths. Mineekas whirled around to yell at him, yet no one stood behind her.

“Rotten, little—”

“Hello, darling.”

The rich, rough voice surprised Mineekas. She turned back to the tent’s depths and gasped. The few candles allowed her to make out the two figures that sat before her. The one was a goddess Mineekas’ age. She had hair the color of new leaves and enormous eyes the same shade of blue as Hermes’. The goddess wrung her hands and sweat coated her mahogany-colored skin.

The second figure was one Mineekas knew well. The Olympian had skin that appeared to crackle with fire as if she’d been born from the hearths she tended. Her night-black hair moved like a flame in light wind, and her red peplos complimented her eyes, which mimicked pools of lava.

These traits drew attention but didn’t hold it. No, her horribly disfigured face got the focus once noticed. During the Titanomachy, she’d been tortured and almost killed by Coeus. Only her strength had seen her through the ordeal. Unlike others, though, the Olympian didn’t hide her battle scars. She wore them like a badge and often said they were a reminder of cruelty best left in the past.

“Oh, Hestia!”

Mineekas threw herself into her aunt’s arms.

Hestia caught her and cradled her close. She smelled of smoked maple, a scent Mineekas loved. “How have the wolves treated you today?”

Mineekas considered telling Hestia everything, especially about the goddess who’d spit on her, but thought better of it. The lesser gods Hestia wouldn’t bother with, but Mineekas was sure the curvy goddess had been an Olympian (her guess was Aphrodite), and Hestia wouldn’t stand for an Olympian causing her niece distress.

While Hestia didn’t appear as fearsome as her fellow Olympians, she harbored a ferocity best left untapped. Hermes had told Mineekas that not even Ares would bother Hestia. The only god that did was Zeus, but he did it rarely and only risked her wrath because he knew his sister preferred passiveness over conflict.

“I—It’s about what you’d imagine.”

Hestia scrutinized Mineekas, then nodded. She released her niece and pointed at the goddess beside her. “Mineekas, this is Devert. Devert, I’d like you to meet Mineekas.”

Devert glanced at Mineekas. Through her fear, Mineekas recognized an upper-dweller’s distaste. Her strong jaw clenched. “Oh, you’re Hades’ daughter, aren’t you?”

Mineekas allowed her gaze to linger on Devert past a respectful amount of time. Devert squirmed, and Mineekas smiled. “Are you one of Zeus’ bastards?”

Devert’s cheeks reddened, and she gazed at her lap. Hestia’s lips pursed, yet she didn’t chastise or try to direct the conversation into more pleasant territory.

Harsher words sat on Mineekas’ tongue, but she swallowed them. She hated to disappoint Hestia. It bothered her more than when her behavior upset her parents.

“So, how does The Deciding go?” Mineekas asked.

“When the time comes, I will guide the both of you up to the pavilion’s stage. The Muses will have cleared, and the Fates will be there waiting for you. Both of you will stand before the Fates, your backs to the crowd.” Hestia glanced at Devert. “They’ll start with you.”

Devert had returned to wringing her hands. “W-what will they do?”

“Mark you before they announce your Purpose. Then they’ll move on to Mineekas and repeat the process.”

It sounded too simple a procedure that might change the course of Mineekas’ life. “How long does this take?”

Hestia shrugged. “If there are no interruptions, it should only be a few minutes.”

Devert paled. “Interruptions? What sort of interruptions?”

“They very.”

Devert swallowed hard. “Might a certain—Could—H-has—”

Hestia touched Devert’s knee. “My sister wouldn’t dare disrupt the ceremony with her grievances.”

Devert exhaled sharply out of her nose.

“But—”

Devert’s eyes bulged even more, and Mineekas wondered if they’d topple out of their sockets.

“I recommend you don’t remain on Mount Olympus,” Hestia continued. “This is no place for Zeus’...mistakes.”

“Earth isn’t safe for me, either.”

Hestia frowned. “I know.”

Sudden sympathy for Devert hit Mineekas. Though many hated her because she was Hades’ prodigy, at least she didn’t have a target on her back like every one of Zeus’ illegitimate children. Mineekas would take dirty looks and snide comments over the wrath of Hera any day.

“Maybe you should—” Mineekas stopped herself. She’d almost suggested Devert pledge servitude to Hades. Zeus wouldn’t even bother her if she did that.

It’d be a waste of breath, though. No upper-dweller would ever consider that, wouldn’t taint themselves.

Hestia looked at Mineekas as if she knew what her niece had been about to say, but Devert hadn’t even acknowledged that Mineekas had spoken. She seemed lost in trying to come up with a way to survive long enough for Hera to grow bored with her existence. Mineekas wished her luck. Supposedly, Hera still bothered Heracles when the mood struck her.

The three goddesses remained in silence for a long minute. Then Hestia stood, and drew Mineekas’ and Devert’s attention. She held out both her hands, one to each of the younger goddesses.

“Come. It’s time to face your destinies.”

Mineekas and Devert locked eyes. All Mineekas’ worries were mirrored in Devert’s gaze, and Mineekas was sure the same could be said for Devert. The moment passed, and both gulped before they took Hestia’s hands.

Hestia gave her nieces’ hands an affectionate squeeze, then pulled them out of the tent.