Page 26 of Blood of Olympus

“I have the time. And please, call me Nyssa. I have a feeling we’re going to be seeing quite a lot of each other in the days to come.” I smiled, pushing through the sudden ache of missing him; fearful of replacing him; wary of getting close to another I may also lose.

Evie smiled back. “Ares did not want it known that both his twins survived. He knew that our story would end in one of two ways, and in the case of it ending well, feared we would usurp him.”

I huffed a breath. “That sounds about right.”

“But nor could he bring himself to kill one of us. Say what you want about our father, but he is an extremely superstitious being. He feared that if he struck one of us down, thus commandeering our destiny, Fate would strike him down in turn. And so… he chose to keep Aros — his boy, his precious, perfect son,” she spat. “And sent me away instead.”

“Where did you go?”

“Thalassia. Old fishrot’s domain.” She nodded down the hall to someone well out of earshot, stuck behind bars strong enough to hold gods and monsters alike. “One of my mother’s maids took me in, before—” Evie cut herself short, her gaze dropping to her lap. I knew the pain that lingered there; the same guilt that ate away at her brother.

“Before your mother left,” I finished for her.

She nodded, taking a moment to steel herself. When her head lifted again, there was no trace of turmoil in her amber eyes — just the determination to see her tale through.

“Desma raised me in my mother’s stead. She was kind. Patient. And I gave her hell for it,” she laughed. “I danced on every boundary, flaunted every disastrous conquest, and tested her every single day.” Evie’s smile fell. “She passed last year. Forest nymphs never make it past a thousand, and Desma was on the older side when I fell into her wrinkled lap.”

My brows pinched together. “That must make you hundreds of years old,” I said, eyes widening as the words tumbled out.

She giggled. “Don’t you know it’s rude to question a woman’s age?”

Tartarus.

“Forgive me,” I murmured, mortified.

“It’s quite alright,” she laughed. “Sometimes I forget just how new to the world you and Caelus both are. You’ve already accomplished so much in your… what… thirty years?”

“Almost thirty-one,” I grimaced.

“Yes!” She clapped her hands together. “When is it? We must celebrate.”

A laugh slipped free. “Aphrodite would adore you. It’s a little over a month away, but I fear we have more pressing things to worry about.”

She frowned. “I fear you may be right. In any case, Aros and I just began our sixth century.”

“You’re five hundred?!” I exclaimed.

“Five hundred and three, to be exact,” she laughed.

“The things you must have done — must have seen!”

At this, Evie’s face darkened. “Aros, perhaps… but I was cursed to remain within Thalassia’s borders. That curse ended with Desma’s death. And here I am.”

“Here you are… stuck in a dank prison with Lord Dickstick,” I supplied unhelpfully.

Her brows twitched, then raucous laughter bounced around the hallway so loudly, I was sure the others could hear it. Nevertheless, the sound was contagious; so sharp and sure I could not help but join her.

Minutes passed. And just when our fits eased, they renewed again when Caelus and Aros waltzed up the stairwell to investigate, wearing identically perplexed expressions.

“Aros,” I said between giggles. “Find… another… guard.”

He sighed. “What’s she done now?”

“Me?!” Evie barked. “I haven’t done anything!”

“You’ve just been discharged twenty-something minutes after I gave you this position,” he argued.

“No, she’s right,” I cut in. “Evie’s done nothing wrong, I simply wanted to save her the pain of guarding Poseidon. Find someone else.”