Page 179 of Blood of Olympus

“You’re not where I left you.” My eyes narrowed on the pair, flicking between each of them, paying particular note of their hands for any sign of foul play.

“Relaaaaax, Zeusy Junior,” Phobos crooned. “We’re here under strict orders to convey a message. That’s all.”

“However,” Deimos added. “We’re also under strict orders to retaliate if attacked first.” He grinned, lifting a hand slowly and twirling his fingers like he was unveiling some parlour trick, only to inspect his manicure.

“What message?” I growled.

“May I?” Phobos queried, pointing at the pocket of his cloak.

I jerked a terse nod. “Don’t do anything stupid, Bobo.” The mention of his much-loathed nickname — the name Aros had called him as a child, too small to pronounce ‘Phobos’ properly, that stuck as Aros grew, much to Phobos’ eternal detestation — riled him exactly as intended.

The god of fear scowled as he jammed his hand into his pocket and retrieved something small, thin, and black. He tossed it up to me and I flinched, fearing the worst. Like a snake. Or a wreath of poison.

He snickered as the thing landed in my lap.

“Why do you have this?” I asked quietly, picking up the length of hair, twisted neatly into a braid that bore a small silver bead at the end.

“You know why,” he sneered. “Tell Artemis we have her. And if she ever wants to see her precious daughter again, she’ll join us instead.”

“What do you want with Artemis?”

“Aside from a legendary huntress who could shoot your precious bird down with a single arrow from a hundred yards out?” Deimos smirked as his eyes flicked toward the sky. “Nothing much, really. Just to destabilise your whole outfit, one god at a time.”

“I take it you let Poseidon out of his cage, then?”

“Aye,” Deimos grunted. “Stupid prick hightailed it out of there as soon as we turned our backs, even after swearing up and down he’d join Kronos.”

I scoffed. “You were fools for letting him out considering your resident lord of light murdered thousands of Poseidon’s own people and wiped an entire city off the map.”

They exchanged a look of surprise, obviously having not even considered that integral fact.

Idiots.

Well, they are Ares’ spawn, Lykos drawled.

So is Aros and he’s not like this.

Aros is his mother’s son. Bia was a brilliant warrior — strong of both mind and heart.

You knew her, I breathed.

I did. Once upon a time.

“Are you ill of mind?” Phobos spat. “You look like you’re having a seizure up there on that giant, furred horse of yours.”

“Say that to his face. You’ll quickly find out how sharp this horse’s claws can be.”

“Horses don’t have claws,” Deimos frowned.

“You fool, of course they don’t,” Phobos snarled. “He’s insinuating that it’s not a horse at all.”

“Oh.”

“You’ve passed on your message — now leave,” I bellowed, startling both.

“She has until sundown to decide,” Phobos called as he backed away. “Or he’ll kill the girl.”

I swore. Nyssa echoed the sentiment.