The tears that she hadn't had a chance to spill on Apollo came out then, held close and loved in Alan's arms. She was well acquainted with the catharsis of a good cry, and didn't try to fight the landslide created by relief and hormones and shock and anger and Alan's soft kisses.
Clarity began to sink in as the tears faded, as the tide of emotion receded. Resting in Alan's arms, she knew: if she let her rage at Marcie show around Tragos, she'd risk losing him. Marcie, who Tragos had risked Ares' wrath in order to bed.
And she couldn't lose Tragos. You owe her obeisance until your dying day Ares had said, that first day when Tragos had been born in the bloody sand of the arena. Tragos had sworn it again, the night she'd told Ares she was pregnant and he'd thrown her out. That promise was a strong one, but his feelings for Marcie we're strong, too, and dare she risk forcing him to choose?
If she unleashed her rage at Marcie, Tragos would remember. And Melpomene knew how young men reacted when their lovers so tragically died; Marcie would become infallible, and he'd take up arms against any who spoke ill of her. It would drive a wedge between them and she couldn't lose Tragos.
And Marcie would be dead soon anyway. (Another thing for Tragos to rise from.)
Apollo and Ares, that's who she should be thinking about, but no, her mind kept coming back to Tragos.
With a shaky breath, Melpomene lifted her head from Alan's chest and wiped the layer of tears from her cheeks. It still felt strange that he and Tragos existed in the same world, and she raised a hand and stroked his cheek, as if reminding herself which world she was currently in.
She leaned forward and gave him a soft kiss, slightly salty from her tears, and that helped too. "What would I do without you?" She asked. "Face this all on my own? Terrible," she kissed him again. "Utterly terrible."