a crushing hug. I donât know if itâs the odd sensation of his strong arms around me or the change to blue-sky Serfopoula from the darkness of the underworld or just the gravity of everything Iâve doneâof what Iâm about to doâbut for a second I canât breathe. I lift my arms and hug him back. My emotions crash down around me and I lean into him, grateful for his strength.
He has always been there for me, supporting me in whatever crazy thing Iâm doing. I donât think I ever realized how much I need himâand how much I take his presence in my life for granted.
It feels nice to be in his arms.
And Troy isnât the only thing Iâve taken for granted. This world around meâwith friends and trees and air that smells like the sea and sweaty teen athletesâis amazing. After trips to three other realmsâevery one but AbyssosâIâm prepared never to leave this one again.
Except that I have to.
Releasing Troy from my grip, I step back and ask, âDid you bring them?â
He drops his arms slowly, like heâs not sure what to do if heâs not hugging me anymore, and shoves his hands into his pockets. âYouâre going now?â
âTroy,â I warn. âI told you to bring them.â
âI did.â He pulls his hands out of his pockets and holds out his palms, revealing the golden feather and the silver seashell. âAre you sure you donât want to take a few days to think aboutââ
âNo,â I interrupt as I snatch the objects from his hands. âIâm not wasting any more time.â
I am so not in the mood for a think-about-what-youâre-doing lecture. He has no idea what itâs like to live with this kind of guilt for so long. I canât remember a time when I didnât hate myself for what my younger self did.
Itâs time to make things right and get that burden off my shoulders.
Itâs time to call Chronos.
âWe need to talk about this,â Griffin says.
I frown at him as he steps closer. âWhatâs to talk about?â
âI should be the one to go back in time.â His golden eyes burn beneath his dark, scowling brow. âIâm the one who fed ambrosia to the baby. Iâm the one who should fix things.â
âNo.â
I place the ruby seeds in my palm alongside the feather and the seashell.
âNo?â Griffin jerks back. âJust like thatânoâand we donât get to talk about it?â
âNo,â I repeat. âWe donât get to talk about it.â
âNicââ
âDo you know what the next step is?â I ask, getting bored with this argument. I know he wants to be the one to save his parents. I know how he feelsâbetter than anyoneâbut I also know why itâs not possible. âAfter calling Chronos, do you know what youâd have to do next?â
His eyes darken. âNo, Iââ
âYou have to call your ancestor,â I explain. âYou have to call your god and ask them for a golden coin.â
Griffin jerks back. Clearly he sees my point. His whole body softens a little and he leans back, away from me. Away from the argument.
Phoebe, on the other hand, doesnât get it.
âWhat?â she asks, coming to Griffinâs side. âWhatâs wrong with that? Griffin can call Hercules andââ
âNo,â Griffin says, his voice low and hard. âI canât.â
âHercules is a demigod,â Troy explains. âHe doesnât qualify.â
âSo. Then he can call . . .â Phoebe begins, but trails off before she can argue. âOh.â
âYeah,â I say. âOh.â
On the best days, inviting the god of war over for a visit is a dangerous proposition. Ares is too volatile, too unpredictable, too . . . likely to wind up inciting a battle or two while heâs here.
On a day when weâre
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