Page 183 of Blood of Olympus

Smug pride threaded through the tenor of her voice as she responded. I did.

I hurled up a whoop of joy, sending up a silent thanks to Tyche, goddess of luck, for aiding Vel in the rescue.

Tell lover boy to ready his damsel-catching arms, Vel advised, twisting hard to the left as a dainty squeal chirped from somewhere beneath us — from the goddess clutched preciously in the talons of a dragon.

Hey Golden — catch.

Vel coasted in a straight line, presumably somewhere above our marshalled forces, and then a voice-shredding scream assaulted my eardrums, cut off abruptly with an oof — audible even as the distance between us grew with every passing second.

Got her, Caelus declared, lingering against the edges of my mind with an almost palpable caress.

Kronos is here.

I heard. I’m assuming that means you’re airborne for the foreseeable future.?

Yes. If we can get the advantage over him from above, it could make all the difference.

He paused, torn between what he should say and what he wanted to. In the end, he settled on a simple: Be safe. I love you.

I love you, and I’ll try.

I guess that’ll have to do.

I grinned, flooding his psyche with all the love I could muster telepathically, then retreated. I left the link between us cracked open, though — so we could communicate when necessary, but not to the point of overwhelming each other with a constant stream of thoughts, sensations, and emotions that could get us killed via distraction.

Have they reached the third line yet? I asked my dragon.

Almost. Demeter is ready for them, though.

I’d expect nothing less.

Vel retreated to the rear of our forces, hovering above them like Helios and Selene — content to watch over the world below from afar. I enjoyed what was likely the last free moments of peace this day could give us. I spread my arms out, enjoying the sun on my skin and the breeze on my face, tickling the loose strands of hair that framed my face.

We did not have to wait long for our peace to be usurped.

Raucous cries and ear-splitting shrieks wound their way up through the clouds and I knew that Demeter had begun. Terrible sounds filtered in and I could only imagine the devastation she was wreaking. Deep, writhing groans and the sharp crack of breaking stone wove the tale of the beginnings of Kronos’ demise.

Is it ghastly?

Vel rumbled, a baritone rasp of serpentine laughter. Yes. It is glorious.

Then, another noise overtook Demeter’s labours.

Thump.

I knew that sound.

Thump.

It was a sound more familiar to me than my own voice.

Thump.

It was the sound of metal striking wood.

Thump.

The sound of defiance.