Page 97 of Blood of Olympus

If they’d had told me she would possess me like no other, I’d have readily agreed. I’d have told them, “She already does.”

And if they’d told me our souls would be linked forever? Until Atropos’ shears snicked shut on our combined thread of fate?

Well, I’d probably have slugged them for lying so brazenly to my face.

Ten years ago — maybe, just maybe — I’d have believed them. We had been on the cusp of something like this. And it felt magical… evangelical… fate-driven, even then.

But when a goddess of the Underworld discovered us — tangled together in a darkened alcove at the Palace of Aetherion, sharing ardour wrapped in kisses — she intervened.

“What in Tartarus are you both thinking?” the stranger scolded.

Nyssa winced, her moonlit cheeks flushing a warm copper, looking even more enticing than she had a minute ago.

“Lethe, it’s not⁠—”

“I do not care what it is, nor what it could be,” the woman snapped, cutting Nyssa’s explanation in two. “It cannot happen.”

Emerald irises shattered before me, piercing me with her profound regret. Tears lined her lower lashes, and I watched as one solitary drop escaped, tracking down her face to hang at her chin. A torchlight flickered in the hall, reflected in that singular bead — capturing my attention more than the stranger’s words.

“Caelus!” the woman snapped. “Are you even listening?”

My face jerked back to hers and I straightened, towering over her.

The woman merely rolled her eyes and huffed a deep sigh. “Don’t try that dragonshit with me, boy. My son attempted it once — and only once. It did not end well for him, nor will it end well for you.”

I frowned at the woman who had the audacity to threaten the son of Zeus.

“And before you ask, yes. I know exactly who you are. I know whose child you are and all the things that are expected of you… and I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?”

“Sorry,” she repeated. “Your parents are… well, let’s just say I’d have raised you differently. But even though you seem to have become a fine young man despite them, this still cannot happen.” Her gaze flicked between Nyssa and me, lines of contrition marring her brow. “Whatever you think you have, whatever you think you are, let this be the end of it.”

“Lethe, no!” Nyssa pleaded, grabbing the woman’s forearm in a bid to help her see reason.

“Please,” I murmured — that word had rarely passed my lips. But I was not above begging, for her. “We⁠—”

“You are young,” she interrupted. “You both are. So young that you’ve barely scraped the surface of what your lives could be.” She paused momentarily, eyeing us both with a look too cryptic to decipher. “Too young to be murdered for fraternising with the enemy’s child.”

Her words hung in the air with startling clarity.

This strange, unfamiliar woman with eyes an unsettling blue, was right.

My father — or mother, for that matter — would not hesitate to cut Nyssa down if they thought Hades was trying to leverage his way onto the Aetherion throne. And I was certain the same could be said for Hades and the Underworld.

This was a mistake.

A mistake that could get us both killed.

I took a painful step backwards. Though it was the right thing to do, it still hurt — and my gut screamed at me not to do it.

“Caelus — no,” Nyssa sobbed, reaching for me. “You know this isn’t right.”

Her tears flowed freely now. And that hurt, too.

The woman — Lethe — nodded once. “You can go. Go back to the party and pursue another maiden. One your parents would approve of. I’ll take it from here.”

I turned sharp on my heel, taking long, purposeful strides away from the goddess of midnight.