Piers looks at me like he can’t quite believe I just summed up the longest, most important war in the history of the universe in a few sentences. I smirk. I’m clever like that.
“After winning the War of Gods,” Piers adds, apparently needing the last word, “Zeus banished the Titans to Tartarus.”
Ah, Tartarus. Those Olympians don’t fool around with eternal torment. They have a whole realm just for that. “Actually,” I say, because I can’t help needling Piers with information he left out, undoubtedly to simplify matters for us idiots around the table, “Cronus, the Titan king, got to go to Elysium, even though he didn’t deserve it, and his war leader, Atlas, was cursed to hold up the heavens for all of eternity.”
“And that’s how the Olympians came to power?” Kaia asks.
I nod. I knew all this and much more by the time I was half her age, but this kind of learning is neither taught nor prized in Sinta. Southern Hoi Polloi are usually about as versed in ancient history as northern Magoi are in farming. But now Kaia has her royal tutor, and I’m constantly filling in knowledge gaps for the rest of the family. Well, not for Piers. With the amount of time he spends in the library, he could probably teach me a thing or two—not that I would ever admit it.
“Zeus and Hera took over, and the Dodekatheon was formed—twelve Gods to rule Olympus. Zeus eventually got bored, created man, a few more worlds, et cetera, et cetera.” I wave a hand in the air. “He impregnated a bunch of mortal women and at least one Titan princess, and here we are.”
Anatole quirks a grizzled brow. “Here we are?”
“What Cat means,” Griffin clarifies, obviously remembering a recent conversation we had at the realm dinner, “is that the Titan princess had a son. Zeus took him from Tartarus and created Thalyria for him. He was the Origin of this world—and its first king. He ruled until his own Demigod children struck him down and then warred amongst themselves, eventually splitting Thalyria into three realms—Sinta, Tarva, and Fisa.”
Griffin cuts me a sharp look, the few remaining pieces of the puzzle that used to be me slamming neatly into place. “Fisa’s royal house is the only one still blood-related to the Origin. That means Zeus is Cat’s great, great, great—”
I wave my hand in the air again. “Go back a few millennia.”
“Grandfather,” Griffin finishes.
I frown at him. “You don’t have to sound so put out about it.”
“It’s just so…” He stops talking, probably trying to figure out a way to say it’s incredibly disturbing without offending me.
“It’s fantastic!” Kaia cries, bouncing in her chair. “Cat’s a Goddess!”
Heat rises in my face. “I wouldn’t go that far.” Really, I wouldn’t.
Anatole leans forward, looking more serious than I’ve ever seen him. “As shocking, and interesting, as that new revelation is, what does any of this have to do with the Chaos Wizard in Fisa?”
I answer before Piers can jump in and steal my thunder again. “He’s a conduit for the Gods, especially Zeus. He’s completely insane. His knowledge is essentially Chaos, a whirling mass without form. Everything. Ever. Forever. If the Gods are listening, and feeling generous, they can help the wizard to focus. If you go about it the right way, he can tell you anything.”
Piers looks skeptical. “So Grandfather Zeus is going to help you out? Tell you where the Ipotane are and how to not get massacred by them?”
I narrow my eyes and lift my glass, tilting it toward Piers in a slightly mocking salute. “Here’s hoping.” I take a sip.
“What’s the right way to get answers?” Griffin asks, always the pragmatist.
Good question. “We’ll figure it out.” Although the last time I tried, I got stuck with a fate-of-the-world prophecy instead.
My dinner suddenly feels like a block of marble in my stomach. I’m going to have to tell Griffin about that.
“We leave in four days,” Griffin announces. “I need to put things in order here, prepare for an absence.”
“So soon!” Nerissa pales.
“Are you serious?” Piers all but growls. “Just because Cat suggests something doesn’t mean you have to do it!”
“It’s a good idea,” Carver says. “If we wait too long to act, Acantha Tarva could regroup and attack. Leaving now gives us a chance to get the Ipotane on our border before she makes her next move.”
“This can’t be the wisest course of action.” Piers addresses Griffin alone, as if the rest of us don’t exist. “I can build a bigger army. I’ve already started.”
“Our recent successes won’t hold off Delta Tarva for long,” I say. “A few months, maybe. She’ll be distracted by preparations for the Agon Games for now, and tradition dictates that the Tarvan royals attend at least the final rounds and then greet the victors.” There’s no need to explain what the Agon Games are. The highly popular, bloodthirsty competition only happens once every four years and is slated to begin several weeks from now, hosted by the equally bloodthirsty Tarvan royals. “A lot of people, especially Magoi, take the Games very seriously, and having them canceled because of an invasion could easily stir up trouble and resentment Delta Tarva doesn’t want.”
Griffin readily agrees. “She wants Magoi support, not anger.”