Page 168 of Blood of Olympus

Two days?!

Must I repeat myself? she griped, exasperation weaving clearly through her tone.

In this instance, yes. I fear I misheard you.

She sighed again. A steadying breath which sounded far too human. You have slept and slept — so much that we feared for you — until you woke just now, fifty-three hours later.

My lip trembled. You kept count?

We all did. You should let them know you’re okay.

But… I’m not okay.

I couldn’t see it, but I felt her brow rise. You are.

“Nyssa?” Aphrodite whispered into my left ear, so close I flinched. “Shit, sorry,” she said, placing a hand on my arm, squeezing gently. “I thought you were awake.”

“I’m awake,” I grumbled. “Though I wish I could say I was well rested.”

“Two days and you’re still not — never mind. I guess I can understand that, considering.” She paused for a moment, then asked, “How much did you hear?”

“Honestly, not a lot,” I said, swinging my feet off the bed as I rose into a sitting position.

Within seconds, Caelus was on my other side, one hand gripping mine, the other providing stability behind my back as his caramel scent calmed me. “Easy,” he murmured.

Easy for him to say — his entire world wasn’t spinning, threatening to upend his gullet because the static and the whiteness in his mind had intensified so greatly it felt like he was just thrown off a cliff and into the tumultuous sea below.

I had no idea which way was up and which was down, every ounce of my sanity growing increasingly hard to hold onto.

“Let us explain. Please,” Aph urged.

I grunted my assent since words were apparently beyond me at this point.

You have no idea how badly you scared me, Nightshade… how badly I want to scoop you up and sail off into the sunset with you. Far away from this place. Far away from the Titan who seems to want you so badly it claws at me.

I can’t⁠—

I know, he interrupted. If you were the type of woman who would allow that — who would allow others to fight in her stead and turn tail at the first sign of hardship — you wouldn’t be the woman I fell in love with.

I don’t know what to say to that, I admitted, wishing more than anything I could lay eyes on him again. Wishing I could drink in his black-rimmed, swirling silver eyes, his golden skin, his scars, and all the ways he looked at me.

Caelus… A traitorous tear rolled down my face, tickling the base of my chin as it lingered there a moment before it fell into my lap.

My storm-wielder simply brushed a thumb across my cheek and said, I love you. More than all the stars in the sky. More than the light of Selene’s moon or Helios’ sun. More than all the grains of sand I found tucked into unseemly places after Apollo’s trial.

I choked on a startled laugh. More than that?

Infinitely more.

I love you too, Golden. Thank you.

For what?

Keeping my humanity intact.

And that was the core of it. Though we were gods — worshipped by mortals for our blessings and our gifts — they gave us something even more precious in return: the reminder that the worth of a life isn’t measured by the length of it, but by how well it is lived from start to finish.

“What are your proposed plans of action going forward?” I asked them — my friends and advisors.