I might have been known as the peaceful goddess, but I tended to internalize my rage until it got to the point of explosions and not the fun kind. Cities would burn, like the Chicago fire of eighteen seventy-one or the great fire of London in the sixteen hundreds.
Annoyed further by my own tantrum, I kicked half of the useless thing to the side. Azita did not flinch. It reminded me of how well I’d trained her. The strength and respect she displayed calmed me. I concentrated on my breathing, calming myself further. “You were volunteered to come in and handle me?” I asked.
I sighed. I was tired. No. I was exhausted in every way one could be. I was emotionally spent from dealing with Atë. I was physically tired from my fight with Sergai. I was mentally exhausted, trying to understand why everyone was so…blind to my intentions. I flopped onto my back next to Eros. This was comfortable. It was our childhood.
“Rough day, cupcake?” Of. Fucking. Course. It wasn’t enough to get caught by anyone who hadn’t been present during my mental breakdown. It wasn’t enough for me to be caught by someone who had been there. I just had to be caught by the traitor herself.