The Trials of Hercules by Tammie Painter

pain. I thought I’d done well by ensuring you were born first and denying him the Solonship, but when I got him to kill his own offspring—” Her words are cut off by a snort of laughter.
    I stare at her.
    “You did that? You killed his children?”
    “No, he did that. I just made him,” she holds the thumb and forefinger of her free hand a finger’s width apart, “a tiny bit insane so he’d do it.” She downs the last drop of wine and the glass disappears. “He’s still guilty.”
    She must be mad, but her madness could get me what I want and, in the end, I will make certain I am rid of Herc regardless of how entertaining Hera finds him.
    “And Zeus won’t interfere to help his son?” I ask.
    “He never has.”
    “You and Herc are two sides of the same coin. Both abandoned by the great Zeus.”
    Hera’s eyes flare. The bright green- and gold-flecked irises ignite into hot embers. The scorching burst only lasts a moment, but it is enough to make me regret my cocky observation.
    “Never compare me with the bastard. Remember, I made you Solon. I can just as easily change the laws and make someone else Portaceae’s ruler.”
    I bow low. I want nothing more than to be out of the room, to be dressed in my finery, to lose myself in Adneta’s mouth, and to get to the evening’s festivities. But most of all, I want away from Hera before she sets her wrathful hatred on me.
    “I never forget, my goddess. Now,” I say picking up my glass and placing it on the table, “I must go.”
    “To your whore?”
    “I made her my wife,” I say jovially. “You have no reason for complaint.”
    “Yes, but you tested every girl in the brothel before settling on her.”
    “Comparison shopping.”
    Thankfully, the rage has passed as quickly as it came and she chuckles at the jest.
    “Go, then,” she says dismissing me.
    “Must I tell him now? I have plans for this evening I’d hate to miss.”
    She thinks for a moment. The conspirator’s smile returns.
    “No, let him linger.” Having pronounced her final command of the day, Hera disappears from the room leaving behind only a cloud of mist in the shape of her body. With one hearty puff, I scatter the form into nothing.
     
    Karadimos’s party runs to such a late hour that the sky is already losing the blackness of night by the time I fall into a drunken slumber in my bedchamber. When Baruch tries to wake me at dawn, I fall back to sleep unable to pull my wine-heavy body from the bed. The sun is fully up and blaring the room with brightness when he jostles me awake saying I’m late. I wrench myself out of the bed that threatens to swallow me back into slumber. When I force myself to stand upright, my head throbs like it’s just been kicked by a mule.
    “Where are you going, my stallion?” Adneta asks drowsily.
    “I must be off to see my cousin. He’s probably crapping stones right about now.”
    “Bring me something,” she murmurs. She is snoring again before I enter my dressing room.
    I’d bring you the world, my sweet, if I could. Since I can’t, my cousin will do it for me.

5
    I OLE
    When Maxinia returns with news of the trial, I can only think she has misunderstood, that she is reporting rumors, that she is teasing me for missing the trial. I should have attended. I shouldn’t have sent her in my place, but the peacocks, the stupid sacred peacocks had been disturbed by something and were out of control. None of the acolytes can handle the birds when they have these fits. Ever since the Solon’s cruelty to one of their flock, the peacocks only respond to me and if I don’t calm them, they end up injuring themselves. As bothersome as these arrogant animals are, I hate to see any of them harmed. My blood still roils over Eury’s betrayal. To say he wanted to understand them better, feel more in touch with Hera by being alone with them only to steal one for that, that wife of his. Disgraceful.
    I try to tell myself Maxinia’s news is a joke, but it