It was as I slipped into fresh sandals—not winged ones, I am disappointed to report—that an arrow pierced through the opening between pillars into Hermes’s bedchamber and wedged into the wall. It was gold and gleaming, glittering, its head the shape of a heart as if to say love could pierce without mercy. “Impatient brat,” Hermes muttered, and then pulled me close, allowing me to stand with him for the first time and notice my greater height to the slight god. “Careful. Whoever you choose, I do hope there is something left of you to steal.” He kissed my cheek, and when he pulled away, he was
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