Page 85 of Crown of Olympus
Lykos huffed down the bond. He had opted to remain upstairs for the duration of the ball. Likely because he would have taken up a quarter of the space himself.
“It’s not?—”
“Hush, child. You’re young. It doesn’t have to be anything. But anyone with eyes can see the way you look at her.” She raised her brows, imparting a silent warning. “I need to find Nike. Will you help me?”
“Of course.”
We spent the next few minutes plotting. I would create a distraction while she slipped out, after making sure my mother saw her at least once.
And then, before Hera’s big finale, Athena would break into the prison beneath Mount Olympus — and break her lover out.
I sighed.
It was going to be a long night.
CHAPTER 26
Nyssa
The Palace of Aetherionwas breathtaking. Begrudgingly, I had to admit that Hera had outdone herself. Chandeliers dripping with crystal were suspended from a gilded ceiling painted with opulent scenes of Hera herself. I cringed inwardly, wondering how Caelus had grown to be a man of worth with a mother so obviously drunk on her own self-importance.
Candles twinkled, their flames frolicking in the slight breeze drifting in from an open patio. Delicate orchestral notes wove their way through faceless dancers, servers with silver platters of wine, and raucous conversations. Bouquets of white, gold-dipped roses adorned every table, each one groaning under enough food to feed a mortal village for an entire month. It was a disgusting display of wealth.
I stepped onto the landing and felt the weight of a hundred gazes settle over me like a shroud — suffocating and cloying. A hush spread gradually, like a tide pulling back, as one by one, they noticed me. Laughter died mid-howl. Conversations stuttered to a halt. In their place came scrutiny. Fear. Even a little awe. A rapt stillness settled over them, thicker than theshadows pooling at my boot-covered toes. But only the intense silver stare of one god gave me pause.
Caelus had frozen mid-motion, goblet halfway to his parted lips, eyes sparking as he drank me in instead.
My gown was spun from pure, starlit midnight. Shadows clung to my curves like a second skin, flaring at the hips before trailing down to the floor in a swirling, ever-shifting inky skirt. Tiny orbs of light glittered within the darkness — cradled by my shadows, not extinguished by them. My gown was a waltz of light and dark, night sky and twinkling stars. Constellations formed and dissolved as I moved confidently down the staircase.
I lifted my chin higher, my cold mask of indifference firmly in place. I knew what they saw beyond the pretty dress.
They saw the monster.
The death-wielder.
The evil spawn of Hades.
They saw their own fears thrust back into their faces.
I had almost reached the bottom when a tanned hand extended gracefully in front of me. I looked up and met the heated amber eyes of a fiery redheaded god, taunting me with his wicked grin, daring me to take up the challenge he offered.
Relief washed over me at the gesture. Somehow, even without Charon and Velira — the only name my tiny purple friend had acquiesced to — I wasn’t alone. Truthfully, I hadn’t been alone in weeks. Not since Velira bonded with me, and not since I’d decided to extend my circle of trust a little wider during Athena’s trial.
Aros’ grin grew wider, more genuine, when I placed my hand atop his. I returned it with a small smile of my own, letting him guide me to a table laden with goblets full of various coloured liquids. A path had cleared easily through the crowded room, no one eager to breathe the same air as the daughter of death. No one, it seemed, except the son of war.
“You look like you could use a drink,” Aros said with a smirk, handing me a chalice of red wine. I took it gratefully, sipping?—
And nearly spat it back out. The sour tang coated my tongue like rot. It took every ounce of control I possessed not to spit it all over him.
The god laughed at my expression.
“It’s no pomegranate wine; I’ll give you that.”
“Here, try this.” A gentle hand extracted the chalice of wine clutched between my fingers, replacing it with a golden goblet filled with something else. I looked up, meeting a familiar silver stare.
Caelus had a way of staring right through me. Or maybe through my facade. This time was no different. I wasn’t even sure he’d blinked. He’d handed me his own goblet, and I raised it to my lips, taking a tentative sip. Caramel-flavoured whiskey caressed my tastebuds, and for a moment, the mask slipped. Joy shone through.
I heard more than saw his quick inhale before his fingers reached for mine.
