50 BILLION REASONS FOR REVENGE

JULIANA

The Great Forest gave way to the whispering reeds of the Lowlands. Zeus moved like a man made of shadow, his footsteps silent on the damp earth. The poison had left his body, but it had taken a piece of his spirit with it. He felt lighter, yet hollower, like a tree that had been gutted by fire but remained standing.

He followed the sound of rushing water until he reached the banks of the Silver Serpent, a river known for its purity and its treacherous currents. For days, he had carried the grime of the city and the filth of the sewers on his skin. He needed to wash away the scent of betrayal.

Zeus knelt by the bank and cupped the water in his hands. It was freezing, a sharp shock that made his heart stutter. He drank deeply, feeling the liquid cool his parched throat. Then, stripping away his ragged traveling clothes, he stepped into the river.

The water swirled around his waist. He ducked his head under, letting the current pull at his hair. He scrubbed his skin until it was red, imagining that he was scrubbing away the memories of Toby’s mace, Gabriel’s sneer, and the cold weight of fifty billion dollars that could not buy a single moment of peace.

As he waded out of the water and pulled on his simple linen trousers, a rustle in the bushes caught his ear. He froze, his hand instinctively reaching for a knife he no longer carried.

"He’s like a statue," a high-pitched whisper drifted through the leaves.

"Shh! He’ll hear you, Clara!" another voice giggled.

Zeus turned slowly. Behind a cluster of willow trees, three young girls were huddled together, peeping through the branches. They looked no older than eighteen or nineteen, their hair adorned with wild lilies. When they realized they had been spotted, two of them shrieked and ducked out of sight, but one stayed.

Zeus felt the air leave his lungs. It wasn't because of the cold water.

The girl standing at the edge of the clearing had the same heart-shaped face as Maria. She had the same wide, inquisitive eyes and the same way of tilting her head to the left when she was curious. For a heartbeat, Zeus forgot he was an exile. He forgot he was a warrior. He was just a man looking at a ghost.

"I apologize for the intrusion," Zeus said, his voice softer than it had been in years. "I did not know this part of the river was frequented."

The girl stepped forward, her two friends trailing nervously behind her. One of them, a girl with sharp features and a bright red ribbon in her hair named Elara, stared at Zeus with an intensity that made him uncomfortable. She wasn't looking at his face; she was looking at the powerful sweep of his shoulders and the way the sunlight caught the corded muscles of his chest.

"We come here to gather herbs," the Maria-lookalike said quietly. Her voice was steady, lacking the giggles of her companions.

Zeus stepped closer, drawn by the haunting resemblance. "May I ask your name, miss?"

"I am Juliana," she replied.

"Juliana," Zeus repeated. The name felt like a prayer. "You have a kindness in your face that reminds me of someone I once knew. A long time ago."

A small voice in the back of Zeus’s mind, the voice of the hardened soldier, screamed at him to walk away. Women are a snare, the voice whispered. Agnes brought you to your knees with a lie. Maria’s memory is a wound that won't heal. Run, Zeus. Run before you are trapped again.

But for the first time in a year, Zeus wanted to laugh. He wanted to feel like a human being instead of a weapon.

"And who are your friends, Juliana?" Zeus asked, turning a polite smile toward the other two.

"This is Clara," Juliana said, pointing to the shy one, "and this is Elara."

Elara stepped forward, smoothing her dress. She batted her eyelashes, her gaze traveling shamelessly over Zeus's frame. "You don't look like a traveler from these parts. You look like... a soldier. Or a king in hiding."

Zeus laughed, a genuine, deep sound that echoed off the water. "I am just a man who has seen too much of the road, Elara. My days of leading are over."

He turned back to Juliana, ignoring the way Elara’s face darkened when his attention shifted. He began to tell them stories—not of wars or billions, but of the strange animals he had seen in the Great Forest and the way the stars looked from the salt marshes.

He sat on a fallen log, and the girls sat in the grass. He found himself chatting and laughing, the heavy weight in his chest loosening. He told a joke about a confused squirrel, and Juliana’s laughter was a perfect chime that echoed Maria’s.

However, he failed to notice Elara.

Elara wasn't laughing. She was watching the way Zeus’s eyes lingered on Juliana. she saw the softness in his expression, a tenderness he didn't offer her despite her obvious beauty. Jealousy, hot and acidic, rose in her throat. She had always been the one the boys in the village fought over. To be ignored for the "quiet one" was an insult she couldn't endure.

"I think I heard my father calling," Elara said suddenly, her voice sharp.

"I didn't hear anything," Clara said, confused.

"I did!" Elara snapped. She stood up, dusting off her skirt. She gave Zeus one last, hateful look—a look that said if I cannot have your gaze, no one will—and disappeared into the woods.

Zeus didn't think much of it. He continued talking to Juliana. "Tell me of your father, Juliana. Is he a farmer?"

"His name is Alex," Juliana said, her expression turning slightly worried. "He is the head of the territorial guard. He is a very... protective man. He doesn't like strangers."

Zeus nodded, a sense of foreboding finally beginning to settle in his stomach. "Then perhaps I should move on. I would not want to cause you trouble."

"Wait," Juliana said, reaching out a hand. "You haven't told us your name."

"My name is—"

Before he could finish, the sound of crashing brush and heavy boots shattered the peace of the riverbank.

"There he is!" a voice screamed.

It was Elara. She was running toward the clearing, her hair disheveled, her face twisted in a mask of fake terror. Behind her moved a dozen men in leather armor, carrying iron-tipped spears and heavy nets.

At the head of the group was a man with a graying beard and a face like granite. This was Alex. His eyes were wide with a father’s primal rage.

"Father, no!" Juliana cried, standing up.

"Get away from him, Juliana!" Alex roared. He pointed a trembling finger at Zeus. "Elara told me everything! You dared to lay your hands on my daughter? You thought you could hide in these woods and prey on the innocent?"

Zeus stood up, his hands raised in a gesture of peace. "Sir, there has been a misunderstanding. We were merely talking."

"Talking?" Elara shrieked, hiding behind Alex’s cloak. "He was dragging her toward the water! He said he would drown her if she didn't submit! Look at him—he’s a monster!"

Zeus looked at Elara. In her eyes, he saw the same poisonous spark he had seen in Toby. It was the look of a person who would burn a forest just to see a single tree fall.

"Juliana, tell him the truth," Zeus urged.

"Father, he did nothing!" Juliana pleaded, grabbing her father’s arm. "We were just laughing! Elara is lying!"

But Alex was beyond listening. A father’s ears are often deaf to the truth when a lie strikes at his heart. He saw an unknown man alone with his daughter and a witness claiming attempted rape. In the law of the Lowlands, that was enough for a death sentence.

"Liar!" Alex yelled at his daughter. "She has bewitched you, or you are too scared to speak! Men, take him! If he resists, kill him!"

The guards moved in a semi-circle. Zeus looked at the spears. He knew he could take them. He could break their line, dive into the river, and be gone before they could reset their grip. He could kill Alex with a single strike to the throat.

But he looked at Juliana’s face. She was weeping, her hands over her mouth.

If he fought, he would become the monster they thought he was. He would prove Elara right. He would break the heart of the girl who looked so much like his wife.

Zeus dropped his hands to his sides. He bowed his head.

"I am not the man you think I am," Zeus said quietly. "But I will not fight you."

"Grab him!" Alex commanded.

The guards swarmed. They didn't treat him with the respect of a warrior; they treated him like a beast. They slammed him into the mud, pinning his arms behind his back. One guard struck him in the back of the head with the butt of a spear, sending a flare of white light through Zeus’s vision.

They bound his wrists with thick, coarse rope that bit into the scars of his old slave chains. They threw a black hood over his head, plunging his world into darkness.

"Throw him in the Black Hole," Alex’s voice boomed, cold and final. "We will hold the trial at dawn. And then, we will see how much he likes to laugh."

Zeus felt himself being dragged across the jagged rocks and through the dirt. He didn't struggle. He didn't shout. He felt the cold air of the woods replaced by the damp, stagnant heat of a stone structure.

He heard the heavy groan of an iron door. He was shoved forward, falling onto a cold, slimy floor that smelled of rot and ancient despair. The hood was ripped from his head.

The cell was small, lit only by a tiny, barred window high above. The iron door slammed shut with a deafening clang, and the bolt slid into place with the finality of a coffin lid.

Zeus sat in the darkness, his back against the weeping stone wall. He was back in a cage. He had run from a palace of gold only to end up in a prison of dirt, all because he had stopped to look at a face that reminded him of love.

He closed his eyes and leaned his head back. In the silence of the cell, he could almost hear the river. And he could almost hear the sound of Elara’s jealous laughter, echoing in the dark.

The King was in chains again. And this time, there was no army coming to save him.

But he felt peace, each time he remembers Juliana’s face