Page 59 of The Games Gods Play
“Only two other champions used their gifts today. One did it to survive, and the other to win the Labor.”
I frown. “Diego used his gift to win?”
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Hades snarls under his breath. “What do you think the glow was?”
Glow? What glow? “I missed that part. Too busy trying to not die.”
“His gift is the Halo of Heroism. It gives him an edge in all four virtues—Mind, Heart, Courage, and Strength. It appeared over his head while he was working on the problem.”
Well…shit. “That gift is going to make him undefeatable.”
“What you should be asking”—he’s back to thundering—“is why not a single other champion used their gifts when they could have.”
He’s right. He’s right, but I can’t deal with it.
I drop back to lay on the cool floor and fling an arm over my eyes. Vaguely, it’s sunk in that we’re in Hades’ house in Olympus again. I just don’t have the energy to care.
“Are you taking a fucking nap?” I feel him loom overhead.
I don’t open my eyes. “Can you just…give me a minute?”
The ominous silence that settles in the room grows teeth and claws the longer I lay here. It finally penetrates the exhaustion, shock, and sorrow currently holding me in a state of numbness.
I blow out a soft breath. “How long has it been since anyone made you wait?”
“I. Don’t. Wait.” Each word is clipped at the end like he’s biting off the sounds.
And I don’t know what it is about him being a dick in this moment—maybe the arrogant selfishness of it, the “I’m an all-powerful god” of it—but a laugh bursts from me. An abrupt bark of sound that is as much of a surprise to me as it probably is to him and gets swallowed by the silence of his rising ire.
But now that I’ve broken the seal, I can’t stop. Laughter pours out of me, violent and fraught. I manage to sit up, but I mean it. I can’t stop.
It goes on long enough that Hades kneels down in front of me, frowning. “Lyra?”
Tears leaking down my cheeks, I shake my head, face and belly starting to ache from the traumatized hilarity that still has me in its clutches.
Frustration passes over his features, clamping his perfect lips tight until they’re in a thin line. “Lyra, stop it.”
Then Hades grabs me by the shoulders. The instant he touches me, the laughter stops, cutting off abruptly, and I stare at him.
And it all hits me.
I promised myself no crying. No crying, damn it. It takes everything I have to hold back the emotions. Almost like I have to force myself to be numb not to feel it. I know I’m staring at Hades, but I’m not really seeing him, focused inward. If I’d done anything like this in front of Felix, he would’ve told me to get my shit together or maybe even slapped me to shock me out of it.
I should get to my feet. Go change clothes and figure out my next steps. Not show this kind of weakness. Not to anyone.
Especially not Hades.
So when he silently sits down on the floor beside me, legs facing the other direction and right up against me, close enough to feel his warmth through my wet clothes, I don’t know how to handle it. Not a shoulder to cry on, exactly, but silent support.
I could endure him yelling, leaving, blaming, even throwing things.
But it’s like even an ounce of mortal fucking understanding, just the tiniest smidgeon, blows a hole through the emotional fortress I’ve built around myself over the years, and the tears just sort of escape. I bite my lip hard, trying to stop them.
And Hades does the worst possible thing—he softens.
He cups my face with one hand, his thumb skating gently over my lip where I drew blood. His eyes change from cutting steel to a swirl of mercury, and what I see in them is…understanding. “Don’t do that.”
I can’t talk around the lump clogging my throat, so I just shake my head.
