Page 130 of Crown of Olympus
She looked to her friend for confirmation. Nyssa nodded once.
“Motherfucker!” Aphrodite yelled, alarming a number of nearby patrons.
“Yes, well. That motherfucker dragged me by my hair over a sand dune and beat the shit out of me while I was alone.” Nyssa scowled, then took a big gulp of a freshly procured drink.
“Not by the hair?!” Aphrodite’s face twisted in horror.
She’s going to have an outrageously sore head tomorrow.
In a subtle attempt at dissuading her from drinking more, I stole the glass from her fingers and downed it myself.
Ugh. Honey mead. Disgusting.
I must have pulled a face, because Nyssa burst out laughing.
She laughed a lot more these days — and I lived for the sound.
Aphrodite leaned in conspiratorially. “I have news,” she began. “The Primal Council — the ones already eliminated,” she clarified in response to Apollo’s raised brows, “convened an hour ago. They’re moving up the last two trials. Apparently, Olympus has gone too long without a ruler. My trial will be held tomorrow. Hera’s, the day after.”
I sat back, floored. The same shock rippled across the other champions’ faces — barring, of course, Nyssa’s. She had disregarded the glasses entirely and was now chugging directly from the mead bottle.
“Great,” she slurred drily.
“I can’t tell you specifics,” Aphrodite continued, “but know that none of you will be eliminated tomorrow. You just have to endure. And wear something comfortable.”
With Aphrodite’s warning at the forefront of my mind, I extricated the bottle from Nyssa’s surprisingly determined gripand sent her home — to where Velira and Charon waited. Before she left, I tucked a piece of parchment into her empty sword sheath, knowing Charon would find it long before she’d sobered up enough to look.
Just a simple, four-line message.
From protector to protector.
CHAPTER 39
Nyssa
Charon had assuredme I could summon Nightbreaker by willing her into my hand — that no special weapon would ever permanently abandon the hand that forged it. And yet, I’d been trying for over an hour now, but my poor, beautiful sword remained at the bottom of Poseidon’s ocean.
The alcohol might have something to do with your failed attempts, godling,Velira drawled. She’d recently adopted Lykos’ diminutive nickname for us — never mind that she was barely a teenager herself.
My tiny, purple dragon was no longer so tiny. Vel now rivalled a mortal horse in stature, seeming to double in size every week, her colour deepening to the dark plum of an eggplant.
Did all dragons grow like this?
I’d have to find some time to scour the palace library for any mention of dragon growth rates. Perhaps after Aph’s trial.
I was anticipating the summons any minute now, not that the council knew I was expecting them. Thanks to Aphrodite’s warning, I lounged on the bright fuchsia sofa in asoft, flowing gown made of midnight. Lace details emphasised what little bust I possessed — my breasts were all but non-existent, courtesy of years of rigorous training — but I didn’t mind. Less skin to be sliced open in combat.
I stared out the open windows, nursing both an awful hangover and the aftermath of Poseidon’s wrath. My rapid healing did eventually work while I slept, removing the swelling entirely. Unfortunately, my face was still a masterpiece of mottled colour, but at least I could see clearly again — and it no longer hurt to touch.
I pondered all the ways my friend might challenge us in her trial, absently chewing at my nails, knowing I’d walk away feeling a little more vulnerable. Lost in thought, Ialmostmissed the scrap of parchment on the end table — until it shifted in the breeze.
As my fingers closed around it, I glimpsed an unfamiliar scrawl:
Charon,
They will not let her win.
They will kill her.
