Page 140 of Blood of Olympus

“I’ll do it,” he whispered into the silence left by the end of the song. “I’ll help you.”

I grasped his shoulder, squeezing once as I stood. “Thank you, Orpheus.”

Then, I left a grieving man alone in the dark with the faintest spark of hope to guide him out of it.

I knew she was there before I’d even set foot on the grass outside the temple.

“Velira,” I cried, bolting to her.

Godling, she crooned as I wrapped my arms around her warm, scaled neck.

She tucked a membranous wing around me, coccooning us both within it like the rest of the world didn’t matter but for this brief embrace. And I tried to believe that — tried to hold onto that.

“Any word on when Caelus will be back?” I asked the great dragon whose eavesdropping knew no bounds.

None yet. He and Aros are still in Strathos, negotiating with the slimy king.

“And what of Athena? Has she heard from Dromaris yet?”

“Not yet, my queen,” came a muffled answer from beyond Velira’s wing.

Considering she hadn’t reacted at all, I surmised that the dragon had been aware of the goddess’ presence the entire time, and that the goddess in question had allowed me this small measure of comfort before delving into heavier topics.

Vel withdrew, and Athena came into view. Stoic as ever, she stood mere feet away with arms clasped behind her back and feet shoulder-width apart — ever the perfect soldier. Glaucus perched on her left shoulder, his shrewd yellow eyes trained on me, head tilting at an odd angle as I approached the pair.

Athena looked exhausted — more than I’d ever seen. Her hair had lost its sheen, her eyes, their sparkle, and she bore dark smudges beneath them. And though fatigue weighed heavily on her, her countenance betrayed no signs of grief — at least, not yet.

The others passed through here alone, didn’t they?

Yes. As far as I’m aware, they went straight up to Aphrodite’s rooms, though I believe Evadne is now stationed outside your doors, waiting.

“When was the last time you slept?” I asked the goddess gently.

Her chin tipped up as though she could fight weariness with stubbornness alone. “It doesn’t matter. We’re arranging for reinforcements⁠—”

“It matters, Athena.”

“It doesn⁠—”

“Athena.” Something in the tone of my voice — my expression, perhaps — gave her pause. “You haven’t received a report from activities on the Isle yet, have you?”

She shook her head, gaze sharpening like knives.

“You may want to sit down.”

“That bad?” she asked, as a crease formed between her brows.

I exhaled heavily before answering, steeling myself for the inevitable. “The arches are complete and the shades returned to their allocated afterlives.”

“I don’t understand… that’s wonderful news. It’s what Heph and his boy have been working towards this whole war. Now that they’re done, we could use Heph⁠—”

“Athena.”

That one word — that one tone — said more than just the goddess’ name, and she clocked it instantaneously. Athena shook her head roughly, jarringly staggering backwards as she repeated, “No, no, no.” Her gaze latched onto mine, more intensely blue than I’d ever seen them. “Tell me I’m wrong. Tell me I’m overreacting.”

My lips pressed together, downturned at the corners, as they fought off a tremble. “I can’t do that,” I whispered. “The cost of the final arch was Hephaestus’ soul.”

I was prepared to withstand sharp words and hurled accusations — I was not prepared for the sting of Athena’s palm across my cheek.