Page 117 of Blood of Olympus

Just when the laughter had subsided, I mistakenly locked eyes with Aphrodite across the table, and it burst free anew. With both of us snorting and cackling like mad old women, the mortals seemed torn between reluctant amusement and sheer horror at the ungodliness of the sounds.

Laughter like that — loud and with reckless abandon — was like wildfire. Kindled by an instant, by one small flicker of mirth, it spread little by little, catching one soul at a time until everything was alight.

As Aphrodite and I both tried and failed to rein it in, it inevitably spread. First with one, then two, then all. Even the beasts could not resist — not when Aphrodite was issuing out waves of desire laced with relentless hilarity. The only thing that could bring a halt to the madness was a hefty dose of reality. And with divine timing, it came.

With all the subtlety of a minotaur in lingerie, Charon blinked into existence two feet in front of me.

“Nyssa!” he bellowed, flickering between various states of transparency.

“Fuck!” I shouted, moving into an ingrained defensive stance. With fists still raised before the lower half of my face and shadow serpents twined around them ready to lend their strength, I cursed again. “You startled me!”

A ghost of a smirk pulled at his lips, but he didn’t allow it to settle. “We need you at the arches.”

I dropped my hands, sending the shadows slithering across the ground to form a doorway instead. Princess Kallista squealed as an errant serpent slithered across her toes before angling back around and melting into the gate.

“What is it?” I asked quietly, aware of several sets of piercing gazes, probably questioning the state of my sanity at this very moment.

“They’ve finished the repairs, and our strength is waning. I hope you’ve got that solution you promised. And mind your feet,” he added, shooting said feet a dirty look. “Your stance is too narrow and your weight is too far back. If I was corporeal, I’d have you on your ass already.”

I glared right back. “If you were corporeal, you’d beg for the reprieve of the ground once I was done⁠—”

“Insult later, arches now,” Charon interrupted, a sense of urgency lacing his tone. He shooed me toward the shadowgate, hands passing through my skin, leaving only an odd coldness behind.

I turned to Caelus, torn between two warring, time-sensitive tasks.

“You go with Charon, I’ll go to Strathos. We’ll meet back in Athenos afterwards,” he offered, resolve straightening his spine even as reluctance tempered the bond between us. It hung like a dark cloud behind my sternum, interlaced with my frosty indecision.

Caelus grasped my face with a gentle hand, bringing his head closer to mine. “You have to go, Nightshade. No one else has the power or the mind to fix those arches. And someone has to join King Arius or he’ll see it as a slight and go off to Kronos just to spite us.”

I bit my lip, unwilling to say the words and make the declaration that would separate us in the middle of a war.

He responded by kissing them. Deeply and entirely uncaring of our audience.

“Go,” he whispered.

Reluctantly, I nodded. “Aros, go with Caelus.”

“But—”

“Aros. If anyone is going to win over the warriors of Strathos, it’s going to be their next ruling Primal. We need them.”

He inhaled deeply, undoubtedly about to launch into a tirade when Evie cut in before he could utter so much as a syllable.

“I’ll go with our queen.” And though she shared almost every characteristic as her brother, no joviality split her face into a grin. No mirth shone in her eyes. “I meant every word of my oath, too, brother. I’ll not let you down. Go with our king” — she shot Caelus a wink startling him so badly I almost lost it again — “and win over our people.”

Aros still looked unconvinced — torn between two opposing sets of duties. In the end, though, he relented, opting to take Haras, Erato, and, strangely, Diana with him.

“I’m coming with you,” Aphrodite announced as she walked to my side.

“Aph—”

“Nyss. Don’t coddle me. I’m old enough to be your grandmother.”

Demeter — my actual grandmother — raised one blonde brow.

“If things go wrong, this could be the last chance I get to see Archimedes and Hephaestus alive.” Her sapphire gaze pierced mine. “I need to see hi— them. I need to see them.”

And as if genealogy played a part in subconscious physical responses, just like my grandmother, I raised a brow. “Alright, then.”