62

62

Healing

The sound of the TV—showing all the mortal celebrations and speculating ad nauseum about the games and what could possibly be going on with the gods and their mortals—is not the distraction I think it was intended to be.

I’m lying on a pristine white bed with pristine white sheets and covers.

My bed in Hades’ house.

He also hasn’t left the room except when Cerberus or Charon insist on it. Even then, it’s not for long. Right now, he stands at the window, hands stuffed in his pockets, shoulders rigid while Asclepius examines my arm.

Medical instruments were brought in to monitor me, despite Asclepius saying it wasn’t necessary. But it has still taken the healer three days and four rounds of that glowy thing he does to repair my arm. Apparently, a mortal body can only heal so much at a time, even accelerated. The first two days were… Let’s just say I never want to go through that kind of pain again. Those burns were deep. Dragon fire, it turns out, continues to burn until quenched. Basically, it’s like being blasted by sun fire and magma and acid at the same time.

We’re on the fourth round now, which is mostly itchy.

A twinge in my arm makes me grunt, and Hades’ back stiffens again. “Watch it,” he grumbles over his shoulder. Poor Asclepius keeps sliding Hades little worried glances.

This isn’t Hades angry, or bored, or even conniving. This is Hades…something else. Something that makes me want more.

But more would be dangerous.

Wouldn’t it?

“I was thinking about who we should reach out to as allies next,” I say conversationally to distract him. Distract us both, really.

He hmmms, so I know he heard me.

“Dex is going to be even more competitive with more champions collecting one win each, and he has none so far,” I say.

Another hmmm from Hades.

“Did Charon tell you Meike is our ally now?”

That gets him to swing slowly around. “No.”

One word and yet so very ominous. I smile. “She has the Mirror of Ariadne. That should come in handy. Right?”

“Yet another runt.” Hades mutters the last bit under his breath.

“Rude. Size has nothing to do with capability,” I point out. “Simmer down and let me make my own decisions.”

Beside me, Asclepius makes a choking sound.

I blink up at Hades. “We’ve already met to talk through strategy.”

We couldn’t wait for him to get back. Zai, Meike, and I have met a few times while he’s been gone.

“Of course you did.”

“You were gone,” I point out, and I immediately regret it when a muscle at the corner of his mouth ticks. “I didn’t mean that as a dig,” I say, quieter.

I shoot a glance at the black glove on Hades’ hand at his side. He’s refused to tell me about his punishment, but he’s still healing. He did that for me.

Hades meets my gaze, and his softens slightly. “I know.”

A nerve ending decides to fire in my elbow, and I pause, squeezing my eyes shut through it. When it fades, I open my eyes again to find Hades has crossed to my bedside.

He sends Asclepius a glare. “Why is this still hurting her?”

“Almost done,” the healer answers.

“Not fast enough—” Hades cuts off when I tug on his sleeve to get him to look down at me.

“He’s not trying to hurt me,” I say. “I’m fine.”

His jaw works for a second before he hooks a chair closer to sit down beside me, storm-cloud eyes skating over my features. “Stop saying you’re fine when you’re not. You always do that.”

I roll my eyes and give Asclepius a smile. “Hades apologizes.”

“You trying to manage me again?” Hades grumbles.

“You need a little managing.”

“Pretty sure that’s you, not me.”

“All done,” Asclepius says. The relief in his voice is so palpable I have to swallow back a chuckle. “Stay in bed one more night, and then you can go.”

Hades rises to bend over me, inspecting the wound with narrowed eyes, and I swear the healer holds his breath.

“The scars?” Hades demands. My arm is covered in sort of silvery purple and shiny skin from shoulder to wrist.

Asclepius winces. “I did the best I could.”

I elbow Hades with my good arm.

“What?” he asks.

With a nod toward Asclepius, I say, “You did amazing. It feels fine. Better than fine.” Especially compared to even just this morning. “Thank you.”

I elbow Hades again.

“Yes,” he says. “Thank you.”

The way the healer’s eyebrows climb practically into his hairline, I’m guessing gods don’t use those words often. His cheeks turn a little rosy, and then he nods and hurries from the room.

“Poor guy,” I murmur. “I think you scared him.”

Hades glances toward the door. “He’s fine.”

“Yeah, well, be nicer next time. He’s helping.”

Hades sits back down and runs the gloved hand over his face. “There better not be a next time.”

When he catches me staring at the glove, he tucks it in his lap.

“I want to see,” I say.

He shifts in his chair. “There’s no point. It’s almost healed.”

“I get you not wanting to upset me while I was healing, but I’m better now.” I hold my palm out. “Please. I’ll just imagine worse things.”

One eyebrow raises, but he puts his hand in mine. Carefully, I peel his glove off, then suck in sharply at the multitude of slashes across his palm. Not open wounds. Not anymore, at least. Actually, they look a lot like my arm does now. But still angry and red, and still healing. It’s been days.

My throat grows thick, and I clear it. “Merciful Olympus,” I whisper.

He tries to tug out of my hold. “It doesn’t matter, Lyra.”

“It damn well matters to me.” He took punishment in my place. No one has ever done anything like that for me. Blinking rapidly, I run a finger softly over the smooth scars.

Hades gives a low growl, and I look up into eyes that have turned from heavy storm clouds into swirling silver.

“Why?” he asks.

I can’t look away. “What do you mean, why?”

“I dragged you into the Crucible. Why would you bother to cry over me?”

I have no answer to that question. I’m sure psychologists would give it some kind of label. A syndrome of some sort. I hate labels like that—putting me into neat and tidy boxes. Life, emotions, humanity—none of that is remotely neat and tidy. We are, all of us, just trying to do the best we can, and fuck anyone who says otherwise.

I just never realized until now that that might include the gods.

“I could ask you the same thing. Why do you care? Actually…” I shake my head. “How are you able to care? Because you shouldn’t feel a damned thing for me.”

His jaw goes so impossibly hard, I’m surprised his teeth don’t crack.

The TV breaks the silence between us. “I am here with Brad and Jessica Keres, the parents of Lyra Keres.” I whip my gaze around to stare at the screen, my heart pounding in my ears so loud I’m not sure I’ll be able to hear a word they say.

A young reporter shoves a mic into the faces of two people I’ve never seen before in my life.

At least…I don’t think so.

“What do you think about your daughter being chosen by Hades this Crucible?” he asks them.