“Nope. I never did master the card shark or sleight-of-hand stuff for that.”
He gives me a dubious look.
I swallow my bite. “You’re going to have to pick those up, you know. I can’t from this side.”
I’m sitting cross-legged on the floor, but thanks to the wings, he can’t, so he usually stands and stalks around as he thinks.
He grunts again.
There’s a knock on the door that leads into this row of about five cells, and he stomps over and swings it wide.
“Lyra has a visitor,” a Daemon named Bia tells him. “He’s been checked.”
Even though I know “he” can’t be Hades—he’s not allowed—my stupid heart, which apparently can’t learn hard lessons, kicks into overdrive.
I’ve had a visitor each day, always in the evenings after dinner. Cerberus and Charon have both come by once each. I sit up straighter to see who comes through the door.
Zai walks in.
My heart puts on the brakes.
His face is a study of both fascinated interest in seeing the inside of my prison…and guilt.
I get to my feet and wave. “Hi.”
“They’re treating you well?” he asks as he approaches, keeping an eye on Zeles.
I smile, trying to show Zai I’m fine. “Yes.”
“Trinica and Amir would have come with me, but they’re only allowing a single visitor each day.”
Not Meike, though. Because she’s dead.
“I know. I appreciate that. Tell them thanks.”
He grimaces. “I should be the one in here. I killed…” He can’t even say Dex’s name.
What he’s carrying is so heavy, I can feel it through my glass prison. I knew it. I knew he’d take that guilt and hold on to it.
“It was an accident,” I say. “He would have killed me, and it just…happened.”
Zai looks away. “I know.”
“I’m not in here because of that,” I tell him, dry as dust.
He frowns. “Then why?”
I shift into baby talk. “I called Athena a mean word and the wittle, baby goddess got her feewings huwt.”
“Fuck, Lyra. You are just asking to get sent to Tartarus,” Zeles mutters darkly, glancing around as if he expects retribution to strike.
With an uncaring shrug that is some of my best acting yet, I shoot the Daemon a pointed look. “Do you mind?”
He leaves us with a final grunt, closing the door behind him. At least they give me privacy with my visitors when I ask for it.
As soon as he’s gone, I focus on Zai. “Anyway, that’s why I’m in here. They don’t give two shits about dead champions.”
He blinks a little owlishly. “Oh.”
“But it’s good to see your face.” I lean closer to the glass, peering at him. “How are you?”
He shrugs. “My father came to congratulate me on a good kill.”
Good grief. Zai should take the Harpe of Perseus and skewer that man, too. “That’s harsh, even for Mathias.”
At least that gets Zai to huff a laugh. “He said he didn’t know I could swing a sword so well.”
“Well, he’ll be mortal again soon. That and dealing with the Overworld after living basically as a god will be his own personal hell.”
“Yeah.” Zai ducks his head, hiding a grin I’m sure he feels is inappropriate. We are, after all, talking about his father.
Suddenly, he steps closer to the glass, as close as he can without smashing his face. “I’ll try to win,” he says urgently. “And if I do, Hermes has promised to make Boone a god.”
My mouth falls open. “How in the name of Olympus did you manage that?”
“He’s the patron god of thieves.” Zai looks behind him to check the door, probably making sure none of the Daemones come rushing in if they heard that.
Not that it’s breaking any of their rules, but it gives me a chance to wrangle my own reaction under control. The tears burning my eyes are welling hard, making the sight of Zai’s face blurry.
