Page 79 of Crown of Olympus
Eventually.
He’d been true to his word thus far.
But does he know about the prophecy? And if not, will he also try to kill me once he does?
My dragon hummed uneasily at the thought. Sometimes I swore she was about to utter a reply, but no words ever filtered back through the bond.
Caelus paused by a patch of belladonna flowers, smiling faintly to himself. My curiosity piqued, but I held my tongue, allowing him to form his own opinions. He reached forward, as if to pluck a stem.
“I wouldn’t,” I warned, voice soft but stern. “That’s?—”
“I know what it is.” He smiled again. “And I know that it is going to absolutely destroy me.”
My brows slashed together as he picked a flower. He twirled it between his scarred fingers before letting it drop to the ground. His words were layered — multifaceted in a way I couldn’t even begin to decipher — but it was his tone that confused me most. He sounded so certain of his doom, yet entirely at peace with it.
A bone-chilling howl pierced the silence. Lykos stepped between Caelus and the source of the sound, a deep growl reverberating through his chest. The god drew his sword while the wolf bared his teeth at the invisible foe.
Contrarily, Rufus crouched behind Aros’ frozen form.
The sound fractured as it echoed, a cacophony of unease. It began as a mortal wail, morphing into the shriek of a banshee. It was exactly the type of noise that unsettled even the most stoic of warriors. Unless you raised the source of the howl from pups, learning to love every inch of their dark, leathery hide and pitch-black eyes.
“What the fuck kind of wolf was that?” Aros swore, amber irises darting.
“It wasn’t a wolf at all,” I laughed. “It was a hellhound.”
“Ahellhound?!” Aph whisper-shouted. “I thought they were only a myth!”
“Stories always have roots in truth.” Amusement still weaved through my tone. “They’re mostly harmless to gods, though. They round up shades that wander too far.”
The gods’ eyes still flitted around nervously, but their beasts seemed to trust my word. Rufus stood from his pitiful hiding place, and Lykos stopped growling — though he kept himself between Caelus and the howl as we continued along the path.
“Come on,” I said with a laugh. “We’re almost there — and the wine is waiting.”
Unless Charon has drunk it all.
The Palace of Hades came into view around the next bend. Its shining black walls reflected the soft starlight, and its spires pierced the sky like freshly sharpened blades.
To their credit, the Olympians did not hesitate to cross the threshold into the home of Hades. Whether it was curiosity that drove their feet forward or fear of being left to the hounds, I was not sure.
I led them to my favourite room — the living area. Where my mother’s love lingered the strongest. I pushed open the heavy double doors, and we were immediately welcomed by brightly coloured furniture, the warm glow of candlelight, and the soft crackle of a well-fed hearth fire.
A startled Charon rose too quickly from his usual chair by the fireplace, spilling pomegranate wine all over his trousers. He mumbled a curse while Aph giggled at the deep purple stain now marking his crotch area.
“Here, let me help.” She grinned wickedly, walking over to him. Aphrodite waved her hand over the stain, and I watched as it immediately disappeared, as if it had never been there at all.
“Perks of being the goddess of beauty,” she laughed. “Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, after all, and I happen to like my clothes appearing clean.”
“Is that how you always appear so unruffled after the trials?!” Caelus asked incredulously.
Aph nodded, smiling.
“So, you haven’t just been breezing through unscathed?”
“Furies, no! If you had only seen the state I was in after climbing the tallest damned tree in Artemis’ forest, trying to catch this little she-devil!” She gestured to her dove, now sitting atop Rufus’ lion head. “Don’t let her angelic colouring fool you. Just as I reached her branch high up in the pine, Leucia would flap her wings and rise two more branches above my head, until there were none higher left to rest on.” Aphrodite laughed at the memory. “She bonded with me at the top, and I was so surprised I smacked almost every branch on the way back down.”
The room erupted in laughter — genuine, unburdened laughter.
I didn’t know if this room had ever heard such a sound. I turned to Charon, noting the way his eyes lingered on Aphrodite’s mouth as she cackled.
