Page 110 of Bonds of Hercules
Ceres was asleep under the covers, which were covered in the Spartan history books that Helen kept giving her.
A pen was still clutched between her ink-stained fingers, like she’d fallen asleep taking notes, desperately trying to regain her memory.
In the bright moonlight, her features were soft and doll-like—she furrowed her brow and whimpered, looking impossibly young in the grand four-poster bed—there were ink smudges on her cheeks.
Lavender eyes blinked open and Ceres yawned, pointing to a book open at the foot of the bed. “I think … I’m finally remembering.”
She closed her eyes and turned, snuggling under the covers as she fell back asleep.
I peered down at the book she’d pointed to. Words were scribbled at the top of the page in her cursive handwriting.
“Zeus + Vyco. Hercules? Assassination?”
My stomach dropped.
What do I have to do with her memory?
Also, Vyco was the man who claimed I’d been attacked by Titans as a baby.
The scar on my sternum tingled.
I looked closer at the book. The text appeared to be archaic symbols in different colors, and was like no history book I’d ever seen.
Ceres had underlined sections and written in the margin, “Need to remember that day.”
How can she read this?
I backed away.
Tensions in Sparta were high.
Just yesterday, “Medusa manhunt picks up steam, Federation plans to start interrogating Chthonics” was printed across the top of the dailyFalcon Chronicles.
I need to run away while I still can.
I rubbed at my wrists.
Hades believes in you.
I stumbled back into Helen’s dark bedroom.
Helen and Charlie were both asleep.
During my shower (protracted mental health episode), the two of them must have returned from their night tutoring session.
Charlie was asleep on the floor in a pile of pink pillows, a healthy glow to his cheeks. His features had been filling out since he began his stay at the villa.
Kohl was smudged around his eyes.Definitely Helen’s.
Smiling more and scowling less, Charlie stuck to Helen’s side since they had classes together all day. They often were giggling with each other at some joke the rest of us didn’t understand. He wrote on a notepad and was constantly showing it to her, then hiding it from everyone else.
I’d even caught him signing with Achilles at dinner.
There was no evidence of the aggressive boy who was constantly getting into fights. He’d shed his old, starved self like a second skin.
I wished I could do the same.
Charlie smiled in his sleep. Fluffy Jr. lay facing him, their arms (and hooves?) overlapping.
