Page 32 of Blood of Olympus

Several chuckles echoed around the open space.

“That’s right,” Artemis chimed in. “I believe his words were: if I have to be pale then so do you.”

It felt like my snort eclipsed the others’ hearty chuckles, but no one seemed to notice. I surreptitiously wiped the tear in the corner of my eye. That sounded exactly like my father.

“So,” Athena interjected. “‘One vanished’...” she trailed off, slightly awestruck, slightly horrified.

“Yes.” I sighed, still slightly off-kilter. “Leander’s soul vanished because mine devoured it.”

Nobody was laughing any longer.

“‘One tethered’ refers to me,” Caelus broke in, shifting the attention to himself. “For those who aren’t already aware… last year, during the Fates’ trial, I severed my thread⁠—”

Aph gasped.

“—and joined it to Nyssa’s.”

“But that would mean⁠—”

“Yes,” he answered simply. “My fate is no longer my own. It is forever entwined with hers. And when her thread is severed…”

“You’ll both be lost to us,” Athena finished, no longer struck with awe, but instead, horror.

Neither of us answered. We didn’t need to. Nobody doubted the truth of Caelus’ words, nor the fate that awaited him when I died.

Throughout the rest of the council meeting, Aphrodite stared at us with tear-filled eyes. She was no stranger to loss, but something about the particular tragedy that was our love — and eventual demise — evidently pained her.

Leucia has given me a message from Aphrodite, Vel murmured.

Oh? What message?

“Don’t you dare fucking leave me too.”

My lips twitched into a barely-there smile.

Tell her: I don’t plan on ever leaving you alone.

I knew the message had been received when Aph smirked and soundlessly mouthed: Good. Bitch.

And I’d meant it, too. One day, Atropos would sever my thread and I’d leave these realms for the next one — but today was not that day. I hoped Aph had found peace by then, but more than anything, I hoped she’d found someone worthy of her love. Someone who loved her as soulfully as Caelus loved me.

CHAPTER 8

Caelus

Sweat covered every inch of my body as the clang of steel against steel reverberated around the training arena. Even though there were no more trials to be endured here, it still made an incredible space for honing one’s skills — or burning through one’s turmoil.

I was in the latter group; Aros, likely the first.

The shadow of a dragon passed overhead as Vel soared through the sky above. She was so low that the gust of wind from the next flap of her wings ruffled the hair on both our heads, but it still wasn’t enough to distract me.

Flameless — Aros’ double-headed axe — slashed through the air, whipping past my cheek. I threw Ceraunos up to deflect it, my arms burning with the effort it took to hold the sword steady.

Aros grinned, relishing the fury he knew I barely held in check on a day to day basis. His amber eyes flickered to life, flames roaring in their depths, and suddenly, I could contain it no longer.

I lashed out, whipping my sword around in an arc — a move that would sever the leg of a lesser man. Being a god of war, my oldest friend sidestepped easily, tutting as he moved.

“You’ll have to do better than that to best me, Prince,” he goaded.