Demigods are so much worse. [Coy as a kittenish purr from the hollow of his throat; sharing secrets like a duchess having taken in too much brandy and good company, now prone to making dangerous little jokes in secret.

And all of them true.]

They embody the spirit of their pampered parentage and wear it like a bloody shirt for good or ill will, and both are damned intolerable. The last to visit razed nearly all the city for its father— the god of murder— just by showing up. And though I had been locked away for the entirety of the disaster, believe me, the whole damned thing was all anyone could talk about for years.