Curses of Olympus (The Olympus Trilogy #2)

23. Hestia

23

HESTIA

H estia runs her fingers gently along the spine of the book collected from the island. The cover has a faded circular marking too worn from time to make out, and the text is faint. Sliding the lantern closer on the small table, she squints and tries to decipher the title.

The language is ancient, one Hestia would have certainly known if she were still the Keeper of the Flame. Chewing on her lip, she closes her eyes and shakes her head to clear her vision and thoughts before looking at the spine once more.

Now, the ancient script is legible to Hestia, plain as day.

Blinking rapidly, she is certain her eyes are playing tricks on her. How is this possible?

She smiles as she murmurs the title to herself. “The Book of Fates.”

The lantern light flickers as soon as the words leave Hestia’s lips, and she swears she feels a soft, cold breeze flutter through the room.

Inside the book, Hestia flips through the delicate pages. There are diagrams of ancient temple schematics, sketches of prominent flora, and several charts with no immediately apparent purpose. She is about to close the tome in frustration, deeming it a dead end, when a page in the very back catches her eye. At first, it is blank, but when under a closer look with the firelight of the lantern, script appears, along with a drawing of tall standing stones positioned in a circle.

The language in this page is not the same as the rest of the book, and this one Hestia cannot read at all. Her heart thumps heavily in her chest.

There is one single line of script that is in the same language as the rest:

This information has the potential to shift the balance of the universe. Do not let it fall into the wrong hands.

Goosebumps erupt along Hestia’s skin, and the hair on the back of her neck stands on end.

This has to be the reason I was sent for this book. But what does it mean?

She moves her thumbs aimlessly over the inside of the back cover as she stares at the drawing, then her finger bumps on something sewn into the binding.

Hestia walks to Alec’s bag sitting at the foot of the bed. A blush forms on her cheeks at the familiarity and intimacy they are building. She slips a small knife out of one of the pockets, grateful to know where Alec keeps spares.

As delicately as she is able, Hestia slices a thin line into the back cover of the book, sending up a silent prayer to the Fates to forgive her for marring their tome if this is all for nothing. A satisfied smile spreads across Hestia’s lips as she slides a small brass key topped with a heart from the fabric.

Hestia leaps up to go show the key to the others, but her hand hovers over the doorknob. She swallows. There is not a single person on this ship that she does not trust, but something gnaws at her gut.

Hesitantly, she walks over to her bag, tucking the key into a small interior pocket. Until she can do more research on the book and talk to Cassandra, she will keep it safely in her possession.

I t is the middle of the night when the ship sails through the Mysts. Clouds hide any light from the moon, as if it too wants to aid in the stealth of the Allegiance. Unlike the first time the Allegiance arrived in the Underworld, there is no greeting party, no bustle of activity. Other than the addition of the rebels, it is business as usual for the home of the dead.

Hestia and Alec part ways with their traveling companions and begin the long walk to their shared room in the temple. Weariness hangs on her like a soaking wet cloak, and she tries to fight the bitterness arising when she is reminded of her weakened state.

There is an ache in her bones that set in after mere days of being at sea. Her immortal body would have been mildly inconvenienced by the physical exertion of the trek, but in this mortal one, she wonders how she will possess the strength to continue this fight.

Hestia should be getting used to her fragile state by now and adjusting to it. Instead, she feels the effort of every single step.

When they arrive at their room, Alec goes straight into the bathing chamber, and Hestia is relieved to have a second to let her guard down. Hiding the toll everything takes on her body saps even more life out of her, but she knows he will just worry too much about her, and she cannot bear that thought.

Alec comes back into the room and extends his hand. She takes it without question and forces a burst of energy through her to stand and follow him.

In the bathing chamber, candles are lit all around the hot spring pool. He walks her over to the edge and gently takes off her clothes.

Hestia opens her mouth to tell him she could not possibly engage in intimate relations right now, but he puts a finger to her lips, and the thought dies in her throat.

“I can see how much our journey affected you.” The rasp of his voice pebbles her sensitive skin, but she kicks herself for not successfully concealing her exhaustion. If she isn’t hiding her fatigue well, does that mean her secret thoughts about Hera are equally as transparent?

“I’m fine, my love,” Hestia replies, but Alec shakes his head and guides her into the water.

He sits on the edge of the pool, out of the water, legs dangling in, and pulls Hestia over to sit on the seat in front of him. He leans her head back into his lap and deftly removes the pins holding her hair up. As her locks cascade down her shoulders, Alec slowly runs his fingers through them.

Hestia sighs. Tears of relief threaten to fall as her body finally has a break from its torment in the warm weightlessness of the water.

Beside the pool is a small bowl and glass bottles of soap and shampoo, their colorful containers casting multicolor speckles of light around the room from the candles.

Alec picks up the bowl and dips it into the water. Hestia closes her eyes as the warm liquid douses over her hair. He does this a few more times until all her hair is wet. Next, he opts for the blue bottle first, and the floral aroma hits her nostrils as he massages the substance into Hestia’s locks.

As his fingers work their way through her thick tresses, her heart soars. She can feel the love that he has for her in every touch and gesture, each moment of care and tenderness. As his devotion pours into her, her woes about her body and the state of world fall away for a few blissful minutes.