Page 164 of The Games Gods Play
I really don’t want to. My body is drifting away, the exhaustion easing into something more like comfort.
“Please.” Hades never begs, but he’s begging me now.
I force my eyes open, squinting against the light of the single lantern in here, and his face comes into vague focus.
He releases a small breath that probably only I hear. “Thank the Fates. I didn’t want to do this until you woke up.”
“Do”—I have to clear my throat because it’s like talking through gravel—“what?”
He holds up a bronze chalice where I can see. It’s simple, with his symbol of the bident and scepter engraved on it. “I’m trying something dangerous.”
That doesn’t sound good. I frown as his face sways before mine. “What?”
“You’re not getting any better, Lyra. So I gave you some of my blood.”
My lips hitch in an attempt at a smile. Ichor, the golden blood of the gods, famed for its ability to do…just about anything, as humanity tells it. “I’m…a goddess.” Then it hits me what he’s saying, and my eyes widen as much as they can while I’m barely keeping them open. “Oh. That was…why…I’m better now?”
He shakes his head. “No. That was so you can survive the next part. Hopefully.”
Next part? What’s he talking about?
He holds up the cup again.
Oh. Right? What about it?
“Water from Styx.”
I blink as my mind tries to glom onto what I know about that. “Poison,” I whisper.
“That’s why I gave you my blood.”
Now it’s coming together vaguely. Only a few mortals have survived touching the Styx. Achilles was one of them. It made him invincible everywhere except his heel where his mother had held him when she dipped him in the waters, and that part didn’t get wet. That one entirely mortal spot became his only weakness.
Did Achilles survive because he had a deity’s blood in him? His mother was Thetis, a sea nymph. Did that make him enough of a demigod to survive it?
Hades must be desperate.
“I’m…that…bad?” I ask.
He hesitates, then nods.
I search his face. “You…look terrible.”
Hades’ lips crook. “You should see yourself, my star.”
“Wow.” I take a labored breath that shudders through me. It’s getting harder to stay here with him. “Guess you…better…do it…then.”
He doesn’t, though. He hesitates visibly. It’s got to be pretty damned dangerous. “If you die, I’ll take care of you,” he tells me. I get another lightning bolt of emotion from him. I’m sure it’s from him, now. Desperation this time. “I promise.”
He is tearing himself apart with guilt. Can’t have that.
“Seems like…” I lick my cracked lips. “You’re…taking care…of…a lot…of souls…these…days.”
His expression alters, and my heart thumps heavily at the odd combination of exasperation and tenderness on his face. “I hope you’re not rubbing off on me,” he says. “Always running around trying to save other people.”
“Heavens…forbid.” I try to chuckle, but it turns into a cough that racks pain through every part of me. “But…don’t…worry about…mine.”
“What?”
