Page 136 of Blood of Olympus

Diana pulled the heavy doors open with no struggle at all, then plopped back into what I assumed was her original seat.

Arius strode in, red-faced and livid.

“Where does Strathos stand?” Aros asked point-blank.

Arius spluttered, apparently ill-prepared for such a question. “Give me two hours to discuss with my advisors and you will have your answer.”

Aros rose. “You have one.”

“If they were with us, he would have just said it,” Aros snarled, knocking over a rack of swords in his rage. “He has the power to overrule his advisors.”

I kicked one over to him, picking another up myself, while Erato and Diana plonked on the stands to watch. He picked it up, tested its weight, and held it out blade-first — ready.

“I thought he’d be here somewhere. Hiding, or ruling, maybe. But I thought, for certain he’d be here… and he’s not,” Aros roared, slashing downward in a diagonal stroke I met with a ringing clash of steel.

“Your father?” I grunted, stepping and stabbing simultaneously.

Aros grunted his assent and blocked, sidestepping to launch an assault on my left — my weaker side.

“Barbecue boy, I’m gonna need you to use your words here.”

Diana scoffed and Aros immediately whipped around to glare at her. “Don’t laugh, it was Nyssa’s joke, not his. He’s just taking the credit for it.” Her grin remained in place as Erato died silently on the bench beside her.

I swung from the left and Aros froze, picking a hell of a time to have an epiphany.

Eyes wide, he barely flinched at the glancing blow I landed on his upper arm. “Do you have any magic juice left?” he asked me.

I frowned. “Magic juice?”

He means your shadow magic, Lykos drawled from the sidelines as Aros waggled his fingers.

“Oh. No. Tapped out right now, I’m afraid.”

“Sentencing souls will do that to a guy,” Diana offered.

Aros whirled on her again. “I have a task for you, after all.”

She stood, all traces of humour vanished. “Name it.”

“I need you to sprint back to the Temple of Ares,” he said, growling on that last word, “and warn the others: they’re not going to side with us. They might not even remain neutral. But I know they’re not with us.”

The daughter of Artemis nodded once, checked her weapons were tucked safely away for an arduous trek, took a long draft of water from the nearby tap, and nodded her goodbyes.

“Thank you,” Aros offered quietly, surprising all of us, but especially her.

She nodded again, and ducked out into the hallway to sneak out of the Bloodhold before they could stop her.

Aros threw his sword atop the pile, growling, “I think they’ve had long enough.”

He led the way, storming up staircases and hallways, startling everyone in his path until he reached the council chambers and slammed the doors open so forcefully that both snapped their hinges.

“We still have twenty minutes,” Arius snarled, rising to his full height — a solid foot shorter than the god of war.

“Twenty minutes in which to wait for whoever it is you’ve summoned to come fetch us? Twenty minutes for you to decide how best to keep us from returning to the others?” I thundered, lightning sparking in the corner of the room though I hadn’t consciously intended it.

Arius remained still, though the same could not be said for his advisors. He looked down his ridged nose at me, completely unaware at just how close I was to scorching it off, and finished weaving his own version of Strathos’ thread of fate.

“Excellent catch, son of Zeus. Ares mentioned the pretty face, but he failed to tell us about the brain behind the brawn as well.” His eyes flicked over to Aros. “You, he said, are just brawn. No brains to behold. To side with such a frail, weak-willed queen over your own flesh and blood? Despicable,” he spat.