I almost tuck it back in, but this is important. “Good.”
His eyes spark with mischief, and I find myself confused. What just happened?
“Let’s at least take this baby for a spin first. The gods are meeting to discuss something important. We should listen in.”
This is typical Boone. Jump right in with both feet, no planning, just the absolute confidence that it will swing his way every time.
I know he catches the doubt dragging at me when he tilts his head, gaze intent on mine. “You know you want to, Lyra-Loo-Hoo.”
I roll my eyes. “I hate that nickname.”
“I know.” He chuckles. “I started it so you’d have one.”
Just like I thought.
“But then I realized that it makes you adorably irritated and usually lets me pull a couple of your strings.”
I snort. “I doubt that.” But I cross to the helm and pick it up. Brass and formed with a nose plate dividing two slots for the eyes, it’s surprisingly heavy. “But this time I’ll give it to you. Let’s go listen in. Maybe we’ll learn something useful.”
Boone takes the helm from my hands and slips it over his head. Immediately, he disappears. I reach out and encounter a solid, muscled stomach covered by a shirt, and the instant I touch him, I disappear, too.
I yank my fingers back, and I rematerialize. “Wow. That’s handy.”
“Makes this tougher, though.” His voice comes from close. Really close.
“What?” I ask.
There’s a heartbeat before his lips press against mine. The kiss is sweet and chaste. I jerk back on a squeak of shock, and his low chuckle sounds, still close.
“Jeez, Boone,” I grumble. “What was that for?”
“I just…wanted you to have that. As a thank-you for loving me.” His voice has gone serious now, and I wish I could see his face. “Even if it’s just between friends.”
Before Hades named me his champion, that qualification would have hurt. Instead, all I feel is…affection. Like Boone gave me something precious.
I smile at where I think his face is. “I knew I was right to have a crush. You’re just a solid guy, aren’t you?”
“Shhh… I have a reputation to uphold.”
“Yeah, yeah. Come on.”
There’s a small silence, and then he suddenly appears again, helm in his hands, brown eyes darkly intent. “One other thing, before we go. Do you know what they’re saying about you and Hades all over Olympus? That you’re lovers.”
That word takes on an edge.
I swallow down a groan. If the gods could have seen what Hades and I were doing just this morning, they’d know for sure that I’m not opposed to that idea. And the moment when I walked into Boone’s cabin and thought it was Hades has been nagging at me all night. The thing is, feelings for Boone aside, future or not, I want the god of death. Even if it’s just for a quick, mutually satisfying tussle, I’ll take that memory with me after.
“So what?”
“The gods are all already opposed to Hades as King of the Gods. So are the mortals, for that matter. You’re giving them even more reason to hate you.” He sighs when I don’t say anything. “Is there any truth to it?”
My eyes narrow. “None of your business.”
“So there is.” He tucks the helm under one arm. “Now that we’re officially friends, you should know that I’m not just going to sit idly by and watch you end up with the god of death. There’s no future with him, Lyra.”
“I know that.”
He tips my chin up with a gentle finger, so I have no choice but to look him in the eyes. “Maybe more than anyone else in the world, I understand your background, your past, who you are, and what you’ve had to overcome. What you’ll go back to after the Crucible is over.”
Where is he going with this?
“I’m just saying, now that you have a friend, maybe it will be easier. You have a future to look forward to in the Overworld.”
A future to look forward to. I had plans. But maybe not alone anymore.
He searches my gaze. “Just think about it, okay?” The helm goes back on, and he disappears from sight. “Let’s go.”
He grabs my hand—his large and warm and curling around mine protectively—and I’m gone, too.
70
Pledges
Walking around invisible is strangely freeing. As in it makes me feel invincible. Nothing and no one can see us, and that means they can’t hurt us, either.
Hand holding mine, Boone guides us unerringly through the houses, not toward the town but to the other end, to the very last house in the row. The place itself is huge—bigger than many of the others, even—but otherwise unassuming in a boxy way and made of simple dark-gray stone. A carving of two crossed forger’s hammers graces the lintel of the gate into the courtyard.
