61

61

The Gods Have Their Eyes On Me

I glance over Hades’ shoulder—straight into speculative blue eyes.

Zeus is watching us.

Beside him on the ground, Samuel sits very, very still, his face ashen, staring at the dirt like he saw a ghost and is trying to pretend he didn’t.

Athena is here, too, eyeing me the same way Zeus is, and so is Hera, to her right.

“Put me down,” I whisper to Hades. “They’re watching.”

Hades stills against me. “I don’t care.”

“I do.” For a thousand reasons.

He sets my feet on the ground, pulls his arms from around me, and steps back. His expression has taken on the mantle of my enigmatic, arrogant, taunting god, but I also know, without a doubt, that it’s for them. Not me.

“You came in dead last, my star.” He says this in a voice that sounds angry, but with his back to them, his eyes are laughing.

Laughing?

“I gave the other champions the answer to the fourth Labor. You’re not angry—?”

He lifts a single brow. “What do you think?” His mouth crooks, and one dimple winks at me. Flirts with me, even.

What is happening right now?

I huff a laugh. But the adrenaline must be leaving my system fast, because several truths slam into me all at once.

The first is that I survived the fifth Labor. Only seven more to go. Almost halfway.

The next is that I came in last on this one, but… “The others?”

“All made it.” He grimaces and nods in the direction of the champions. “Some in worse shape than others, but alive. Samuel lost all his flags but still made it to the finish line. Rima used a cloak of phoenix feathers and pretended to be a baby dragon, which was smart, but Dex managed to cross first while she was distracting the dragon.”

“Oh no—”

Hades shakes his head. “He didn’t win. Dae had a hard time with the Stymphalian birds and was fourth to cross, but he was the first to come through with all four flags, so he wins this one. Zai and Meike are unharmed.”

Between my relief and all the energy I expended—physically, mentally, and emotionally—I’m suddenly drowning in exhaustion. Exhaustion and…pain. Except the Labor is over. I frown. Why am I feeling pain?

“Lyra?”

Hades’ voice sounds far away. I hardly hear him as agony rips through me. It’s like my relief gave my nerve endings permission to come back to life. My arm throbs so hard I can feel it everywhere.

I drop to the ground, legs giving out, body shaking.

“Asclepius!” Hades barks.

Immediately, the healer is at my side. “She won a Labor,” Hades snaps. “Heal her.”

“I know,” Asclepius says in a soothing, fatherly voice that only makes Hades’ glowering scowl—a real one now—deepen.

“If you know, then fucking heal her.”

This is not going to help those speculative looks from the other gods and goddesses at all. “I’m fine,” I say through gritted teeth. But hells, even I don’t believe me.

“This burn is deep,” Asclepius says, then shakes his head. “Dragon fire.”

That was real?

“What does that mean?” Hades demands.

“I’ll need to take her to be treated.”

“First, though!” Apollo strides across the field, leaving a wiped-looking Rima where she sits in the grass. “Your prize.”

“Later,” Hades snarls.

Apollo’s eyebrows shoot up, and he glances between us, eyes turning sharper, just like the others’.

If I wasn’t trying to hold in screams, I’d grimace at that. I don’t need more reasons for the gods and champions to not like me.

Ignoring Hades, Apollo goes down on one knee before me. His golden eyes are even more striking up close. “For soothing my poor harp, I present to you the Tears of Eos.” With a flourish, he holds out a small, clear glass vial that contains an iridescent liquid that shimmers like rainbows over crystal-clear waters—only a few drops.

Hades grumbles and takes it, shoving the vial into his jeans pocket.

Apollo’s teeth glint in his face in a wickedly teasing smile. “Those tears are from my daughter, the goddess of the dawn, and when dropped in your eyes will allow you to see in the dark and past glamours, spells, and magic. I have a feeling you, of all the champions, might find this handy.”

Oh, I get it. Hades. Darkness. Despite the agony still tearing at me, I manage to roll my eyes. Apollo winks at me.

“But be careful,” he warns. “They last only a short while, and when they stop working, the darkness will be overwhelming until your eyes adjust again. Some mortals have been known to go mad at the effect.”

“Of course I get a gift with a punishment for using it,” I grind out.

“Use them wisely,” Apollo advises.

The words are hardly out of his mouth before Hades touches my uninjured shoulder and we disappear in a blink with Asclepius.