Page 131 of Crown of Olympus
Keep her safe.
Well, that explained the seven-foot-tall bodyguard I’d gained overnight, prowling the palace’s exterior, refusing to return to his duties on the River.
Charon had been unusually serious, focused in that deadly predator way of his. He’d even sent Cerberus to guard the portal arch — no one would make it past the triple-headed beast unscathed.
Snap.
Ah. Right on time — the one exception to that rule.
Hermes appeared in the middle of the living room, blinking at the unexpected brightness of the decor. Velira growled, radiating a furious heat.
Vel, for the love of the Furies — don’t eat him before I can find out why he’s here.
I make no such promises,she seethed.
“To what do I owe the pleasure?” I drawled from the sofa, coiling shadowy serpents around my fingers. A ploy, to make the primal think twice about his current whereabouts, and give the shadows in my other hand a chance to devour the note without him nosing through it first.
The god of travel and thievery cleared his throat and straightened. He eyed Velira cautiously —good move— before addressing me.
“You are being summoned to the Parthenon. Immediately,” he said haughtily.
“And if I refuse?”
“Then you forfeit your place in the Ascension Rite,” he sneered, glaring down at me over his excessively large nose.
“Interesting,” I hummed. “So thisisabout the trials.”
Hermes remained silent.
Charon chose that moment to burst through the double doors so forcefully they slammed against the obsidian walls with a resoundingcrack. He crossed the room in the blink of an eye and shoved the intruding god up against the mantle, a dagger pressed to his throat.
“How dare you come here uninvited and unannounced,” Charon growled, digging the blade in hard enough to draw blood.
I unwrapped myself from the couch and prowled over to where Hermes now hovered above the crackling flames, my cold mask firmly in place.
Except it was less of a mask than actual cold fury. Hermeshad dared to entermydomain uninvited. Right to the heart of my palace?
The nosy prick was about to learn a valuable lesson.
I raised a hand and twirled my fingers, leaving one pointed at his face. An inky serpent slithered through the air and landed on top of the god’s greasy head. He shuddered in revulsion, which made Charon dig the blade in deeper. Ichor soaked the collar of Hermes’ off-white toga.
Velira licked her maw at the scent of blood and violence — a dragon’s favourite meal.
I crooked my finger. The shadow serpent wriggled down Hermes’ face. He flinched as it wound its way up his left nostril and disappeared entirely. He was frozen in pure terror, his body jerking intermittently as the snake followed along his nasal passage.
“Get it out! What in Tartarus do you think you’re doing?!” Hermes yelled, a taint of fear staining his voice.
He screamed — an ungodly, high-pitched wail — as I willed the shadow to bury itself deep into the recesses of his brain, sinking its fangs into his hippocampus.
Hermes’ recent memories played out like a film behind my eyelids, the serpent funnelling information to me telepathically through whatever shadowy link we currently shared.
It was a neat trick — helpful in moments like this.
“The trials have been moved up,” I said monotonously, concentrating on the myriad of images and scenes speeding through my mind. “Hera sent him to scope me out. She wanted to see how much damage Poseidon managed to inflict before sending me into the next trial — Aphrodite’s.”
Charon scowled, pretending to be unaware of the information the goddess had already imparted the night before. I paused on a single frame.
“Hera possesses a Titan dagger,” I said, brow arching as Istepped closer to Hermes. “And what exactly does she intend to do with it?” I questioned.
