Page 112 of Blood of Olympus

I snuck a glance at Caelus, who smiled softly when I caught him already staring.

You’re not wrong, I told her.

“Queen Nyssa is the only thing standing between us and doom,” Aros growled. “Kronos offers us nothing but fear, despair, and eternal servitude, if you’re so lucky. If Queen Nyssa falls, then so do we all.”

“How do you know?” Idalia asked — not accusingly, just curious.

Apollo leaned forward to answer, twisting his fingers into articulate shapes.

Idalia lowered her gaze as a deep blush bloomed across her face. “I am sorry, my lord Apollo. I do not understand this language of the hands.”

The man seated beside her raised his thick brows. His own dark hands spelled out words as he spoke aloud for Idalia’s benefit — and anyone else who had not learned this arguably crucial manner of conversing.

“If I may, your graces,” he spoke and signed. “I am King Lyros of Meloidia and it would be an honour to translate for my god today.”

Apollo nodded his thanks as he proceeded to again answer Idalia’s question.

We know because each of us were present when a true vision possessed me. They all heard the words I spoke. They all learned what Fate has decreed.

“What words?” she asked in hushed tones.

Apollo turned to me, a question sparkling in his golden-hued eyes.

I shook my head sharply.

“Confidences of such importance are strictly for allies only. And so, I guess, we’ve reached the portion of the evening wherein you need to decide where your kingdom stands. Are you with us… or with them? Because to sit idly by and do nothing — to commit yourselves to no side — is still a boon for Kronos. You would willingly sanction the slaughter of innocents.” I sent a piercing glare Galen’s way, knowing that he of all here should understand the cost of this war. “You would paint targets on your own backs and leave your kind to their demise.”

“Why should we agree to send our warriors to fight for you, when Kronos may offer us greater opportunities?” Arius drawled. “When, perhaps, our own gods have forsaken you?”

“By all means.” I swooped a hand through the air, landing on the docks. “Leave. Take your chances with a Titan who has called the coldest depths of Tartarus home for the last several millennia. Hedge your bets on the fact that he is of sound mind; that you would be more than just pawns for him to use and sacrifice at will.”

“Would we not be your pawns too?” he snarled.

I rose to my full height, letting my gaze touch on all of them seated around the table. I was met with patient silence, hostile glares, encouraging smiles, and the blank stares of those who were seemingly indifferent.

“You would not be pawns, no. You would swear oaths and act of your own free will, but would fall under the leadership of one of the gods seated around this very table.

“Do you realise what a momentous occasion this is? For one table to host a royal representative of every mortal kingdom, and all but four of your sacred gods? For all of those gods to be aligned in values and hopes for the realms? For petty squabbles to be placed behind you so that you may live to one day see them through?”

Arius’ forehead creased in thought even as he contemplated the faces surrounding him.

Idalia’s expression softened, while her daughter beamed.

Lyros pursed his lips, his hazel eyes sparkling like that of his chosen god.

Demtria glared at any who dared even hint at second-guessing their decisions, and even old Sophocles sent withering frowns around the table.

The rulers of Theris and Kardia were calm, along with the Lunarian representative — apparently having made their decision already — while Prince Icarus of Caldris internally debated the merits of each argument.

Aelia sighed, leaning back in her seat. “I have been instructed to hear you out, that is all. I cannot commit Dromaris one way or the other until I relay this meeting to my father and he deigns to make a final decision.”

“Would have been nice for the old bandit king to attend himself, then,” Arius muttered.

Aelia skewered him with her dual-toned gaze, not blinking until he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “He is otherwise engaged.” She twisted to face me, dropping the sharpness of her glare. “But I will fight with you, no matter what he decides for my kingdom.”

“A female heir cannot fight!” Galen exclaimed, slamming his hand down on the table.

Aelia reacted faster than I did — so quick I was barely even able to track her movements. Between heartbeats, she’d pulled a dagger hidden from somewhere on her side, flicked it through the air, and impaled the surface of the table — right between Galen’s outstretched first and second fingers.