Unfortunately, he wasn’t sure. “It must mean it’s very powerful. Maybe from Zeus’s first lightning strike. Or…” His nostrils flared.Could it be?
“What?” Sophie asked.
“What if your shard goes all the way back to powerful, new magic created not for just one god but forthree? The Titan War happened here, on Attica. Zeus and his brothers were instrumental in toppling the Titans—Zeus with his lightning bolt, Hades with his invisibility helmet, and—”
“Poseidon with his trident,” Sophie finished for him. “What if the shard contains magic from all three gifts from the first Cyclopes?”
Piers was thinking the same thing. And it was a frightening concoction of power. “Then it would truly betheShard of Olympus—one of a kind and made when the brothers stood back-to-back, conquered the Titans, and forged a new kingdom.”
“Holy shit.” Sophie gaped at him.
“That might explain how it still holds magic after thousands of years in a place with none,” Piers said, starting to worry about the lack of color in Sophie’s cheeks. “Power like that doesn’t fade,” he added. “It’s just too strong.”
“I knew this was bad.” Her fingers curled around his, gripping hard. “In the wrong hands, it could be a weapon. A terrible weapon.”
Piers squeezed her back. “But yours aren’t the wrong hands.” He’d seen enough to know that. “The instructions were to give it to Athena?”
She nodded. Her eyes ate up half her face, and a visible swallow tracked down her throat.
“Then that’s what we’ll do,” Piers said.
Sophie nodded again, less hesitant this time. Her expression blared fear, but something else, too. Strength. Determination. A woman who didn’t give up without a fight—who maybe didn’t give up at all.
Pride welled in him. His Sophronia was a warrior. And suddenly, this world didn’t seem so foreign to him. “What do you feel when you touch it?” he asked.
“Cold.” She shuddered.
“What else?”
Reluctantly, Sophie added, “A vibration. A kind of constant buzzing, deep down.”
Magoi. He knew it. Maybe once she understood her magic, and with the help of the Shard of Olympus, she could send him home.
The thought twisted inside him as though wrapped in thorns, and Piers drew her hand closer across the checkered tablecloth, keeping it tucked in his. “We’ll figure this out. If Athena wants that shard off this world, she’ll come for it. We just have to make it easy for her.”
“You really think so?” Hopeful now, a little breathless, her cheeks gaining some color again, Sophie outshined everything in the room.
Piers could safely say she blinded him, and he was used to the dazzlingly bright Thalyrian sun.
He nodded, his fascination growing by the second. The urge to touch her, comfort her,protecther, intensified, and he reached for her other hand as well. Holding them both felt right—righter than the idea of letting them go. “The shard doesn’t belong here. Not anymore. It must’ve been buried. Or forgotten and left behind. If it made its way toyou, there’s a reason the Fates wove it into your life.”Into mine…“You must be able to connect with it somehow. Or connect to the gods.”
“The Fates…” Sophie’s brow furrowed, but then she nodded. Something about the idea of destiny seemed to calm her down. “Thank you, Piers of Sinta. Gamma of the realm and third in line for the throne.”
Piers wasn’t extraordinarily fond of being teased, but if it put a glimmer back in Sophie’s blue eyes, he could get used to it. Gruffly, he muttered, “You’re welcome.”
She grinned. “It seems crazy, but I’m starting to think Athena put you in my path. Or maybe the Fates did.”
Piers thought it was likely some combination of both. Athena could just as easily have knocked on Sophie’s door and asked for the shard, but the gods didn’t work like that. They watched events unfold and set possibilities into motion. Then they saw what came of things, good or bad. There was destiny, and there was free will. It was the sticky, confusing, interlocking mix of both that fascinated the Olympians as they observed, sometimes neglecting, and sometimes nudging, from their mountaintop.
“I’m really glad you’re here.” Sophie’s thumbs swept over his knuckles and back again, her skin silky-soft and warm.
Piers’s flesh tingled, his blood heating to her touch. Their eyes met, and his pulse sped up. He couldn’t remember the last time he wanted to throw all caution to the wind, wrap his arms around a woman, and kiss her.
Emotion expanded in his chest. He wanted to be the man Sophie turned to for more than just the Shard of Olympus, and the thought simultaneously elated and terrified him. It pierced his heart and stuck there like a barbed arrow from Eros. She’d become precious to him too quickly for anything other than the Fates to be steering this strange and unexpected course. Then, what happened when he found his way back to Thalyria and his family? What happened if hedidn’t? In both scenarios, he lost.
His gut churned again, tight with worries. Piers was sure of one thing, so he focused on it.
“I want to help you, Sophie.” He wouldn’t fail her, no matter the cost. “If there’s a way to contact Athena, we’ll find it. I promise.” He might have a sword strapped to his back—and gaining him odd looks from the other restaurant patrons—but he was a researcher and a scholar above all else. He’d investigate; he’d find a solution; he’d do whatever needed to be done. Then Sophie would be safe.
