39. Nyssa
Nyssa
Charon had assured me I could summon Nightbreaker by willing her into my hand — that no special weapon would ever permanently abandon the hand that forged it. And yet, I’d been trying for over an hour now, but my poor, beautiful sword remained at the bottom of Poseidon’s ocean.
The alcohol might have something to do with your failed attempts, godling, Velira drawled. She’d recently adopted Lykos’ diminutive nickname for us — never mind that she was barely a teenager herself.
My tiny, purple dragon was no longer so tiny. Vel now rivalled a mortal horse in stature, seeming to double in size every week, her colour deepening to the dark plum of an eggplant.
Did all dragons grow like this?
I’d have to find some time to scour the palace library for any mention of dragon growth rates. Perhaps after Aph’s trial.
I was anticipating the summons any minute now, not that the council knew I was expecting them.
Thanks to Aphrodite’s warning, I lounged on the bright fuchsia sofa in a soft, flowing gown made of midnight.
Lace details emphasised what little bust I possessed — my breasts were all but non-existent, courtesy of years of rigorous training — but I didn’t mind. Less skin to be sliced open in combat.
I stared out the open windows, nursing both an awful hangover and the aftermath of Poseidon’s wrath.
My rapid healing did eventually work while I slept, removing the swelling entirely.
Unfortunately, my face was still a masterpiece of mottled colour, but at least I could see clearly again — and it no longer hurt to touch.
I pondered all the ways my friend might challenge us in her trial, absently chewing at my nails, knowing I’d walk away feeling a little more vulnerable. Lost in thought, I almost missed the scrap of parchment on the end table — until it shifted in the breeze.
As my fingers closed around it, I glimpsed an unfamiliar scrawl:
Charon,
They will not let her win.
They will kill her.
Keep her safe.
Well, that explained the seven-foot-tall bodyguard I’d gained overnight, prowling the palace’s exterior, refusing to return to his duties on the River.
Charon had been unusually serious, focused in that deadly predator way of his. He’d even sent Cerberus to guard the portal arch — no one would make it past the triple-headed beast unscathed.
Snap.
Ah. Right on time — the one exception to that rule.
Hermes appeared in the middle of the living room, blinking at the unexpected brightness of the decor. Velira growled, radiating a furious heat.
Vel, for the love of the Furies — don’t eat him before I can find out why he’s here.
I make no such promises, she seethed.
“To what do I owe the pleasure?” I drawled from the sofa, coiling shadowy serpents around my fingers. A ploy, to make the primal think twice about his current whereabouts, and give the shadows in my other hand a chance to devour the note without him nosing through it first.
The god of travel and thievery cleared his throat and straightened. He eyed Velira cautiously — good move — before addressing me.
“You are being summoned to the Parthenon. Immediately,” he said haughtily.
“And if I refuse?”
“Then you forfeit your place in the Ascension Rite,” he sneered, glaring down at me over his excessively large nose.
“Interesting,” I hummed. “So this is about the trials.”
Hermes remained silent.
Charon chose that moment to burst through the double doors so forcefully they slammed against the obsidian walls with a resounding crack . He crossed the room in the blink of an eye and shoved the intruding god up against the mantle, a dagger pressed to his throat.
“How dare you come here uninvited and unannounced,” Charon growled, digging the blade in hard enough to draw blood.
I unwrapped myself from the couch and prowled over to where Hermes now hovered above the crackling flames, my cold mask firmly in place.
Except it was less of a mask than actual cold fury. Hermes had dared to enter my domain uninvited. Right to the heart of my palace?
The nosy prick was about to learn a valuable lesson.
I raised a hand and twirled my fingers, leaving one pointed at his face. An inky serpent slithered through the air and landed on top of the god’s greasy head. He shuddered in revulsion, which made Charon dig the blade in deeper. Ichor soaked the collar of Hermes’ off-white toga.
Velira licked her maw at the scent of blood and violence — a dragon’s favourite meal.
I crooked my finger. The shadow serpent wriggled down Hermes’ face. He flinched as it wound its way up his left nostril and disappeared entirely. He was frozen in pure terror, his body jerking intermittently as the snake followed along his nasal passage.
“Get it out! What in Tartarus do you think you’re doing?!” Hermes yelled, a taint of fear staining his voice.
He screamed — an ungodly, high-pitched wail — as I willed the shadow to bury itself deep into the recesses of his brain, sinking its fangs into his hippocampus.
Hermes’ recent memories played out like a film behind my eyelids, the serpent funnelling information to me telepathically through whatever shadowy link we currently shared.
It was a neat trick — helpful in moments like this.
“The trials have been moved up,” I said monotonously, concentrating on the myriad of images and scenes speeding through my mind. “Hera sent him to scope me out. She wanted to see how much damage Poseidon managed to inflict before sending me into the next trial — Aphrodite’s.”
Charon scowled, pretending to be unaware of the information the goddess had already imparted the night before. I paused on a single frame.
“Hera possesses a Titan dagger,” I said, brow arching as I stepped closer to Hermes. “And what exactly does she intend to do with it?” I questioned.
He refused to answer. The snake’s fangs sank deeper. Hermes whimpered and dropped to his knees, forcing Charon to withdraw his blade. Golden blood trickled out of the god’s nose.
“She plans to kill me,” I said quietly. “She means for Caelus to win. By any means necessary.”
I recalled the shadow, letting it coil back into my waiting palm, then turned to Charon.
“Your turn,” I grinned menacingly.
Charon returned it — equally as devious.
He stepped up to the quivering god of thieves and placed his hands on either side of his head.
“What are you doing?” Hermes whimpered.
“How much?” Charon asked me.
“Just the part about Hera’s plans,” I murmured.
A faint purple glow pulsed beneath the Ferryman’s palms as he worked his power, threading it through Hermes’ mind, erasing his recent memories.
“It’s done,” Charon announced, stepping back.
“Thank you for the valuable information, Hermes. I shall be along shortly. You may go.”
With a whip-like snap , Hermes vanished.
Charon smirked.
“Well played, Nyss. They’ll think twice before coming for you now.”
“They never should have underestimated me in the first place.”
I reached up and cupped Charon’s cheek, smiling at the sharp blue-grey of his eyes, his dimpled grin, and unruly mop of light blonde hair.
“Thank you,” I said sweetly. “I’ll be right back.”
This time I’m coming, Vel said.
“Correction — we’ll be right back.”
Charon nodded. “Don’t have too much fun without me.”
The shadows pooled at my feet, morphing into that familiar inky archway. I winked as I stepped through, a horse-sized dragon at my back.