Athena watched Apollo go, her eyes hard flecks of stone. It wasn't over. Perhaps his words were nothing more than that: malicious words, meant to strike fear into the girl he hadn't been allowed to kill. Perhaps he had no more designs on Ares or Marcella, at least for the time being. But he hadn't forgotten either of them, and it rankled him that he'd been made to back down, and Athena had no doubt that if an opportunity arose, he'd be sorely tempted to take it. And Apollo was always a slave to his own temptations.
But for now, at least— For now, the peace held. For now, Marcie was smiling and sobbing and laughing all at once, her health restored. Perhaps, after all, she would live to grow into that intriguing fire.
And then, the boy in the doorway. He had the look of one of Ares' acolytes, all hard muscle and buzzed hair, but his eyes were for Marcie, all stunned amazement. And in Hecate's eyes – a caution. Watch him.
Athena turned each of the pieces this way and that in her mind, like jigsaw fragments, trying to find where they fit.
Hecate had been asking about one of Ares' men a few weeks ago. Melpomene's favourite, she had said.
But Ares would not send one of his men to watch over Marcella. Ares certainly wouldn't tolerate one of his men looking at her like that.
Ah. Yes, that would explain it. She had thought it a curious name.