That implied Zeus wasn’t sure. I suspected that when I fell to the edge of Chaos, Zeus had not been able to watch. There were limits to even his far sight. He did not know exactly what had happened, how I had defeated Python, how I’d come back from the brink. I caught a look from Athena, who nodded almost imperceptibly.
“Yes, Father,” I said. “Python is gone. The Oracles are free. I hope that meets with your approval.”
Having spent time in Death Valley, I was confident that my tone was much, much drier.
Zeus stroked his beard as if pondering the future’s endless possibilities. Poseidon stifled a yawn as if pondering how soon this meeting would end so he could get back to fly-fishing.
“I am satisfied,” Zeus pronounced.
The gods let out a collective sigh. As much as we pretended to be a council of twelve, in truth we were a tyranny. Zeus was less a benevolent father and more an iron-fisted leader with the biggest weapons and the ability to strip us of our immortality if we offended him.
Somehow, though, I didn’t feel relieved to be off Zeus’s hook. In fact, I had to stop myself from rolling my eyes.
“Super,” I said.
“Yes,” Zeus agreed. He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Welcome back to godhood, my son. All has gone according to my plan. You have done admirably. You are forgiven and restored to your throne!”
There followed a smattering of polite applause from the other deities.
Artemis was the only one who looked genuinely happy. She even winked at me. Wow. It truly was a day for miracles.
“What’s the first thing you’ll do now that you’re back?” Hermes asked. “Smite some mortals? Maybe drive your sun chariot too close to the earth and smoke the place?”
“Ooh, can I come?” Ares asked.
I gave them a guarded shrug. “I think I may just visit some old friends.”
Dionysus nodded wistfully. “The Nine Muses. Excellent choice.”
But those weren’t the friends I had in mind.
“Well, then.” Zeus scanned the room, in case any of us wanted one last chance to grovel at his feet. “Council is dismissed.”
The Olympians popped out of existence one after the other—back to whatever godly mischief they’d been managing. Artemis gave me a reassuring nod, then dissolved into silvery light.
That left only Zeus and me.
My father coughed into his fist. “I know you think your punishment was harsh, Apollo.”
I did not answer. I tried my best to keep my expression polite and neutral.
“But you must understand,” Zeus continued, “only you could have overthrown Python. Only you could have freed the Oracles. And you did it, as I expected. The suffering, the pain along the way…regrettable, but necessary. You have done me proud.”
Interesting how he put that: I had done him proud. I had been useful in making him look good. My heart did not melt. I did not feel that this was a warm-and-fuzzy reconciliation with my father. Let’s be honest: some fathers don’t deserve that. Some aren’t capable of it.
I suppose I could have raged at him and called him bad names. We were alone. He probably expected it. Given his awkward self-consciousness at the moment, he might even have let me get away with it unpunished.
But it would not have changed him. It would not have made anything different between us.
You cannot change a tyrant by trying to out-ugly him. Meg could never have changed Nero, any more than I could change Zeus. I could only try to be different than him. Better. More…human. And to limit the time I spent around him to as little as possible.
I nodded. “I understand, Father.”
Zeus seemed to understand that what I understood was not perhaps the same thing he understood, but he accepted the gesture, I suppose because he had little choice.
“Very well. So…welcome home.”
I rose from my throne. “Thank you. Now, if you’ll excuse me…”
I dissolved into golden light. There were several other places I’d rather be, and I intended to visit them all.
AS A GOD, I COULD SPLIT MYSELF INTO multiple parts. I could exist in many different places at once.
Because of this, I can’t tell you with absolute certainty which of the following encounters came first. Read them in any order you like. I was determined to see all my friends again, no matter where they were, and give them equal attention at roughly the same time.
First, though, I must mention my horses. No judgment, please. I had missed them. Because they were immortal, they did not need sustenance to survive. Nor did