Peitho smiled and her eyes flashed with something like pride. Luna recognised it, could read it for what it was: everything is going exactly as I want it to, that smile said.
“Beautiful boy,” Peitho told him, leaning forward and kissing his lips so softly. Luna stood unmoving beside them, and she couldn’t describe the feeling that hung heavy and angry in her guts, weighing her down. She wanted to pretend that it was jealousy, because jealousy was uncomplicated and easy to parse. But it wasn’t jealousy and Luna knew it.
When Peitho drew back from the kiss she looked at the two mortals standing together and then reached out to lift Luna’s face towards hers. “My darling girl,” she said to her, and Luna felt weak in the knees, always weak in the knees for this goddess, this divine woman who had chosen her. “Undress for me.”