Page 155 of Crown of Olympus
I cackled loudly which was immediately followed by a loud metallic thud and subsequent groan of pain. Charon emerged from a lower cupboard, rubbing his golden head gingerly. He rose slowly, sheepishly, with a pan in each hand.
He was wearing, of all things, a black, flour-covered apron that read: ‘FERRYING SOULS & BAKING SCROLLS.’
Laughter burst from my mouth with all the subtlety of an avalanche. I threw my head back with the force of it as Charon’s face turned a deep, burnished copper.
“Where in the three realms did you get that?”
He pursed his lips, considering whether or not to answer. I knew he’d given in to the humour when that trademark dimple appeared in his left cheek, and mischief sparked in his blue eyes.
“I made it,” he finally replied, turning to the stovetop and setting down a pan.
“You made it?” I blinked, bewildered, watching as he poured a questionably lumpy mixture into the pan. It sizzled instantly, smelling vaguely of cake and char.
He shrugged nonchalantly, flipping the… whatever-it-was.
“Yup.” The ‘p’ came out with pop as he rummaged through more cupboards.
I opened the one to my left wordlessly.
“Even ferrymen get bored waiting for their best friends to finish—” He noticed the open cupboard with its gleaming plates. “Oh, thanks! What was I saying? Right. Waiting for their best friends to finish kicking ass and winning trials.”
His brows lifted momentarily. “You guys did win, didn’t you?”
“Well… we passed.”
“Right. Caelus was basically catatonic for a few hours there…” His sentence tapered off, rising in pitch — more question than statement.
I sighed deeply, deciding where to begin.
Charon said nothing, instead opting to plate up our… whatever-it-was.
Start at the beginning, young one.
Helpful.
I quirked a brow at my sassy behemoth of a dragon, eyeing me from her corner of the kitchen.
“Hera’s trial was rough,” I said, wincing at the memory of sharp cuts and deep stab wounds. “It involved mirrors and secrets and pain.”
“I gathered that from the fact that you were both covered head to toe in ichor,” Charon drawled.
“If you’re so knowledgeable, then you tell me the rest,” I teased.
He raised both hands in mock surrender, chuckling as he gestured for me to continue.
“I’ll spare you the details, but — Arch is dying, like really dying; it was Apollo’s prophecy; Ares forced himself on Aros’ mother and she’s still alive on some island; Hades is dead — which you already knew — and Caelus wove both our fates together in the Fates trial months ago.”
I raised a finger for each secret, ticking them off some invisible mental list as Charon’s eyes grew wider, his jaw dropping lower, with every revelation.
He sputtered. Just sounds — no words made it past his teeth.
“Oh! And Hera killed Zeus,” I tacked on, rather tactlessly.
“What?! Hera? But why?” Charon yelled.
“Really? That’s where you want to start?”
He nodded, dumbfounded.
