Page 115 of Crown of Olympus
“I’ll start the fires,” Charon murmured. His face betrayed his concern: eyebrows drawn together, trademark dimpleabsent. He glanced at my trembling hands, then eyed Caelus severely, “Take her upstairs to the shower. She needs to get warm?—”
Charon moved to grab Caelus’ arm, halting his steps. “—slowly. No point adding scalded skin and a fever to her list of damage.”
“I know,” Caelus murmured, staring down at me. Emotions flashed across his face too quickly for me to read. “I know how to care for her. I know what she needs.”
Char scoffed, patting Caelus’ back as he strode off. “Okay, big guy.”
Stay here. I’ll be okay, I sent to Velira, praying she’d listen, before gently closing off the mental link between us.
I just needed a few moments of solitude, to be the sole occupant of my own mind.
The storm-wielder insisted on carrying me the entire way to the bathroom, grunting that heonly needed directions, not snarky comments about how I could walk and my legs weren’t painted on.
He did not set me down until the shower was running warm, and even then, only onto the bench seat Charon had added during the remodel. Every time I set foot in here, I swore I could kiss Hephaestus for the invention of showers. But then I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the oval mirror and my bruised lips parted in shock.
Ichor covered me from head to toe — I couldn’t tell where mine ended and Leander’s began. Bruises marred almost every inch of visible skin. Cuts and slashes decorated my body like tally marks, carved by survival itself.
I was a macabre mural, painted in broad, violent strokes.
Broken, emerald-green eyes stared back at me. Tears from the girl in the mirror mixed with the still-wet blood, sliding down her face like golden, swirling ink. A sob choked free, pulling painfully on my cracked and bloodied ribs. My handsshot to my sides, desperately trying to hold myself together physically while mentally falling apart.
A gentle hand tipped my jaw upwards, coaxing me away from the sad reflection until I met the revolving silvery gaze of the god crouching beside me. His face was inches from mine — steely resolve written into every line on his skin.
“Don’t,” Caelus grunted. “Don’t you dare feel a shred of guilt for what you had to do to come back to us alive.”
My face fell, but the tears fell harder.
“To come back tomealive. And I can never thank you enough for that.”
I blinked up at him, surprised by the vehemence in his voice.
“So don’t you dare torture yourself, Nightshade.” His eyes softened, voice quiet but steady. “I know that no matter what I say, you will always carry this weight as a stain on your soul, but you shouldn’t. You don’t deserve to.”
He waited for his words to settle.
“Leander would have killed you, Nyssa.” His voice cracked on my name. It sounded foreign on his tongue. Somewhere along the way, I’d grown attached to his flowery nickname — the absence of it was jarring.
“He tried—” Caelus seethed, “and I?—”
His fingers plunged roughly through his hair, snagging on the knots.
“I couldn’t do a damn thing about it. I just stood there, stuck on the sidelines like some useless onlooker!” He slammed his fist into the tiled floor, splitting the skin at his knuckles. “That dagger he carried? I’ve seen it before. My father had one… A remnant from the Titan War. It would have killed you if he’d been able to land a fatal blow.”
He looked up at me, lips pressed together in a firm line, eyes shuttered. The light behind them dimmed — and that, more than my grief, broke something within me.
Tentatively, I reached forward, placing my palms on his cheeks. Slowly, I leaned in until our foreheads touched. My eyes dropped to his trembling lips.
Furies, I so badly wanted to kiss him — wanted to taste him; see if his lips were as sweet as the caramel scent that seemed to follow him like a shadow.
But I couldn’t.
I reared back, reaching for his bleeding hand, pressing a soft kiss to the broken skin instead.
“Now you listen to me, taser-boy.”
He barked an unexpected laugh.
“I am no damsel in need of saving. I have more power in my little finger than Leander had in his entire body. I will never regret taking the life of anyone who wanted me — or the ones I care about — dead. Even if it costs a piece of my soul in the process,” I whispered, eyes closing.
