Page 99 of Crown of Olympus
How is it that every other god in this damned building knew about the prophecy before I did?
Did Zeus just have a big mouth? Or had they all been plotting, planning, expecting the worst of me — trying to thwart my attempts before I could prove I was no realm-ending threat?
Velira’s throat rumbled, her body tense. Her head whipped back and forth as the bond between us tugged, her agitation pooling with mine.
“I had to protect a mortal child from a lamia, Nyss,” Aphrodite whispered. My brows rose, shock stalling my anger. I’d never seen one in the flesh, much less bested one. “At first I wondered what the point was,” she admitted. “He wasn’t going to live very long anyway. Mortals never do,” she explained matter-of-factly.
Disapproval burned at the back of my tongue, the words longing to be flung free. Life always mattered, no matter how small.
“But then I realisedthatwas the point,” she continued. “A Queen’s job doesn’t just extend to Olympians. She must protect all who reside in her domain — including mortals. Even tiny ones.”
“So you killed the lamia?” I had to ask, curiosity momentarily overpowering my anger.
“Furies, no!” Aphrodite laughed, paling further. “She gutted me with her talons and started devouring my innards,” she whispered with a tremor. “It was horrible. Hermes grabbed me a minute later.”
As if summoned by the power of his name, Hermes reappeared with asnap, dragging a shivering Leander behindhim. He dropped Poseidon’s son to the floor with a loud thud, a sneer twisting his lips as he marched over to an open hearth.
“Next time any of you think to includesnowin your trial,” Hermes hissed at the council members, holding his fingers over the flames, “You can retrieve your champions yourselves.”
Muted laughter trickled through the room as Leander crawled over to join him near the flames.
“And you!” Hermes shouted. “The next time you see fit to collapse like a frozen little godcicle twenty metres from the finish line, I shall leave you where you lay!”
Leander rolled onto his back, his still-lit torch raised in triumph.
“I passed, though, didn’t I?” he sneered. “Made you hike through waist-deep snow to retrieve me, too.”
The sea god smiled. Haughtiness turned his features a sickly shade of you’ve-got-to-be-fucking-kidding-me.
We had comeso closeto being free of dick-stick junior. Why in Tartarus had Hermes intervened?!
Something didn’t feel right about this Rite. Gods were passing when they shouldn’t. I was fielding sabotage attempts when the trials were already dangerous enough. At this stage, I’d need to be wary of everyone — even allies.
The Crown of Olympus was mine to claim.
Or there’d be no realm left for any of them to rule.
CHAPTER 31
Nyssa
The Parthenon’smarble pillars gleamed in the morning sun, light refracting off every divot and carving. The architecture truly was a masterpiece — a dedication to meticulous craftsmanship — having stood the test of time, weather, and godly outbursts alike.
Such a structure could only have been erected by one being: Hephaestus.
The god was a genius. Whatever he envisioned, his hands crafted more ingeniously than any concept diagram could convey. Hephaestus had forged the majority of the Primal Council’s trademark weapons: Poseidon’s trident, Artemis’ and Apollo’s bows, Ares’ golden spear — even my father’s helm of invisibility.
Now, the behemoth god stood in the centre of the chamber, waiting as council and competitors arrived.
“Champions,” Hephaestus boomed, his deep voice rumbling like hammer against steel — gritty, low, and ringing with unwavering force. “Your trial today will be twofold.” He took the time to make eye contact with each of us, expressioninscrutable.
“First, you will accompany me to my forge, where you will attempt to craft your own weapon. Fail at that task and your second will prove much harder.” A slight smile tugged at his lips, causing the silver beads in his long, dark beard to twinkle in the sunlight.
Ares stepped forward to join him. His amber eyes burned devilishly, notably icier than his son’s usual smouldering heat.
“Your second trial will cut you in half — figuratively, of course,” Ares drawled with a disconcerting grin. “Maybe.” A half-hearted shrug.
“This Rite is taking far too long in my opinion. War isn’t fair, so why should I be?” Ares sneered. “After crafting your weapon in Heph’s trial, you’ll show us what it can do in mine. You will be allocated a duelling partner from within your cohort. The winner moves onto the next trial. The loser is eliminated.”
