“I’m not good enough,” Redana admits into the all-encompassing acceptance of her father, here and now. “I’m not clever, like Mom, and I’m not strong, like you.”

Her bloody fingers take Zeus’s hand in hers. She can’t look the king of the universe in the eye, and so her eyes linger on those scars, revealed to someone who does not deserve the revelation.

“How can I keep them safe?” The Alced. The Privateers. Her statue, her bodyguard, her friend. How can she keep them safe from a harsh universe and a furious cat and a gun that breaks time?

Whether she must is not in question. She only doubts if she can. The crown gleams like the eye of the Nemean on her head.

“I couldn’t protect Isty’s mother. I couldn’t stop Alexa from killing Molech. I couldn’t stop Bella...” The blood, sprayed on a rain-streaked wall. The hand, stopping her from spitting out the Paragon capsules. The hatred for someone who’d never been in Bella’s heart, after all.

And that was the worst part. Missing someone who’d never even existed. Falling for the mask, because she’d been so desperate for someone who thought she was good enough even when she failed, over and over again.

“So how? How can I be a king? Please?” Her voice cracks, and she leans her weight on the shoulder of Zeus, she who watches over the exile and the refugee.