Page 159 of Crown of Olympus
I am a child, in case you’ve forgotten,she replied drily.
“Caelus, come now.” Hermes beckoned with a come-hither motion, urging the storm-wielder up the stairs.
As the others had done, Caelus offered the crown a drop of gold and looked up as it fell. We locked eyes, and he smiled. In that instant I knew I was completely and utterly fucked.
I loved him.
Somewhere along the way, he had fractured the ice encasing my heart, wriggled his way inside, and curled up within that golden glow in my chest.
I loved him.
And whether it was the bound threads, fate, or something else entirely, I had forgiven him. For all of it. I no longer cared. I just knew I couldn’t imagine losing myself in the eyes of another or falling apart in the arms of anyone else.
I loved him.
“And last but not least, Nyssa. If you’d be so kind.” Hermes gestured to the crown with a flourish.
I stifled an eye-roll and made my way up to the pedestal.
I willed a dagger into my palm, smiling faintly as the shadows responded instantly. Just as I was about to prick my finger, Hermes hissed in my ear:
“Why do you bear the Crown of Hades?”
“I should think it obvious.” I addressed the room as a whole. “I am Hades.”
If I thought they’d lost their minds over the Hera revelation, I was woefully unprepared for the outburst at mine.
But I was absolutely done with the gods and their monotonous bickering.
“Enough!”
Somewhat surprisingly, the room obeyed, and I caughtCaelus smirking. A warm, pride-filled sensation fluttered beneath my sternum. It was at that precise moment I understood all of the strange and unexplainable things I’d felt lately. These stirrings of feelings weren’t my own at all, buthis.
Hewas proud of the way I’d silenced a room full of gods millennia older than myself.
And I am in love with him.
I used that knowledge to bolster my resolve as I continued.
“My father, the original Hades, King of the Underworld, is dead. For all intents and purposes.”
Ignoring the rising tide of questions, I sliced my palm open and let a solitary golden drop fall. It landed on the crown’s blood-spattered surface, and I watched intently as each offering dissolved.
Then the crown vanished.
I scoured the heads around the room. No mysterious gilded coronet graced any of them, champion or otherwise.
Minutes passed, and then — a flicker.
A hint of gold glinted above five nervous heads in turn, never settling, constantly shifting:
A flash above Aros.
A glimmer above Archimedes.
A spark above Caelus.
A gleam above Apollo.
