“Kate,” Dimitri repeated, “like the Middleton girl? And Washington, too? We’re very modest.” It amused him to think of a goddess referred to as a friend, a teacher or even an academic, but the more he thought it and the more the puzzle pieces slotted together to form a pretty picture. Hera had always been desperate to find her place in the world; her husband-brother had made certain to rebuff her efforts as often as he could, but Zeus’ dominion no longer informed the choices they made. So much the better, thought Amphitrite-through-Dimitri. They’d labored under his justice long enough.
On the bench, with Hera-turned-Kate, Dimitri could almost feel the shiny links in their old friendship come to life before his eyes. They looped around his hand and hers, for what was friendship if not another way to chain one to the other? “I’m not so famous these days, but if you think I’ll wow your patients into better health, then who am I to refuse?” Hera had always been the one who acted, who took matters into her own hands and dealt life and death as if she was her lord husband. Amphitrie, in contrast, had preferred the lowest depths of the sea, where little light shone and only her children could find her. She didn’t regret the old days, not anymore.
“I never figured you for a doctor,” she admitted through this voice that wasn’t hers but felt so much stronger than her own had ever been. “Maybe a shrink? A marriage counselor… Or a hitwoman. I think of Nikita and I think you’d be the perfect candidate. I ran into our messenger friend a while back. He was running a smuggling operation out of Shanghai. Some never change, others…” She’d also heard of Poseidon, owning a whole maritime operation that stretched as far as the British Empire, but that had been two centuries ago. Things changed and now his borrowed name was just another forgotten alias. Amphitrite might have cared, but Dimitri was over that whole bit of nonsense. “I’ve got a meeting with some PR guy by the name of—“ He checked his Blackbery, his memory failing him. “—Roger Ryan. Good man?” It was easy to fall upon old habits; Amphitrite had always relied on Hera for support.