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.
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.
