Page 119 of Crown of Olympus
“My loyalty is, and always has been, to Olympus, Mother.”
“Is that so?” She tilted her head, studying me. “Heed the warning, boy. Consider who you choose to help… who you choose to protect… and who you choose to bleed for. Because blood will always leave a trail. As do other” —her nose screwed up— “bodily fluids.”
Her lips curved, but it was nothing like a smile. She strode past me towards the grand marble doors, her pristine white gown trailing behind her. Just before she crossed the threshold, before I could freely breathe, she paused to face me once more.
“Olympus needs stability now more than ever.” Her gaze flicked down, to where the throne sat empty three floors below. “And I will do whatever it takes to ensure that happens.”
Then she left me standing in the cold, empty room, with a feeling of dread sinking deep down in my gut.
My mother had all but declared war on anyone who stood between her and the crown.
Including, it seemed, me.
And with Nyssa already in her sights, I had no choice but to keep my distance. I would not draw further attention to her; would not paint a larger target on her back.
Even if it hurt.
Even if it shattered me.
CHAPTER 36
Nyssa
Furious waves crashedinto the bow of the ancient ship, mirroring my foul mood. The sting of the sea spray soaked me instantly, improving absolutely nothing about the situation I had found myself in.
Now I was lividandwet.
And not in the fun way.
From the moment my boots slammed into the worn timber deck, I knew Poseidon had no intention of giving us an easy pass. I also knew he’d be out for my blood in particular. Sails snapped riotously in the winds overhead, and an enormous wave slammed into the side of the creaking ship, jolting me into a splintering wooden railing.
Leander’s dying face flashed through my mind — his bloodstained eyes, his colourless skin, the way his face froze in fear as I cleaved soul from body. The way it felt for my soul to absorb his… that lecherous, oily feeling of it being devoured within me.
The ship lurched again, drawing me back to the present. The memory washed away with the tide. I choked it down, allof it. I had no time to dwell on the dead when Poseidon’s ocean was trying to make a ghost out of me.
Lightning forked through the turbulent skies, illuminating the other four champions struggling to find their sea legs. We were all that remained after Ares’ violent culling: Aros, Apollo, Archimedes, Caelus, and me.
My eyes darted to the white-haired warrior wrenching down on thick ropes, his obscenely muscled arms flexing beneath the soaked white fabric of his tunic. His lightning-scarred hands worked quickly, the motions seeming oddly well-practiced as he secured the lines to prevent the sails from whipping free.
The sight of him hit me like a blow to the stomach. I hadn’t seen him in almost a fortnight, despite his promises to return. He had checked my wounds, tucked me into bed… and then vanished for the next two weeks.
I waited hours for him.
Then a day.
Then two.
It took a week before I realised, he wasn’t coming back at all.
Eventually, Charon had done what he always did — rescued me from the darkest recesses in my mind, one terrible joke at a time.
Now, as I stood here, drenched in seawater and rage, I met his gaze with nothing but icy indifference. I was done waiting. Done being vulnerable. No matter how much it hurt to seal off my heart once more.
Poseidon’s voice boomed from everywhere and nowhere, carried to us on the gale winds.
“The ocean is an unpredictable beast. It does not bow or yield to any but me. It will break those it finds unworthy.”
Another wave struck against the ship, and the vessel groaned under the relentless assault. I was thrown sidewaysinto the rails, in danger of toppling over, until my shadows poured out of my hands, latching onto the timeworn wood — temporarily saving me from Poseidon’s vengeance.
