“Thank you,” she whispered before bolting from the room.
They called after her, but only Anabeth followed, breathless by the time they emerged into the fading evening light. Thessa waited near a grove of trees, her tail whipping around her.
Took you long enough, godling. They are nearly there.
Soren glared at her.Why didn’t you call me so I could stop him?
You had to learn why first. There may be a way yet through all this foolishness.
We are all foolish in love.
As Anabeth approached, she whirled to face her. “You can’t do anything to stop me.”
“I know that,” Anabeth said, crossing her arms. “But I can’t let you go alone.”
“Ana—”
“Shut up. We’re wasting time standing here arguing, and you know it.”
Soren let out a slow breath. “Fine. But as soon as we land, you need to hide.”
Anabeth muttered something in the language Soren realized now to be the old tongue of Arcadia—the original dialect of the gods. She ignored her and mounted Thessa quickly, throwing down the ladder for Anabeth, who climbed up shakily.
The second they were both secure on the saddle, Thessa took to the air, leaving the house and the gods in it behind.
Chapter 35
Just as thegleaming gold spires of Kronos’ palace peeked through the clouds, Soren doubled over on Thessa's back.
“What’s wrong?” Anabeth cried out over the roaring wind.
Soren smiled through the agony. “I think he managed to injure Kronos.”
Thessa circled the gleaming structure. If she wasn’t in so much pain, Soren would have rolled her eyes at the unnecessary exuberance. At least six towers spiraled into the sky, nearly reaching the clouds. The entire estate that the palace sat on was at least twice the size of the one in Aren. Gates surrounded it, lined at the top with spikes, patrolled by an innumerable number of demi-god guards.
Kronos had created a near-impenetrable fortress for himself—too bad she had been here enough to know the best way in. The pain had subsided; they needed to hurry.
“Flat against her back!” Soren shouted.
Anabeth obeyed and rasped in her ear, “How exactly are we getting in?”
“The quickest way: the ceiling of the throne room is made of glass.”
Anabeth screamed as they dove, her voice lost as the glass neared. Just before they broke through, Thessa let out a roar, and a stream of white fire billowed from her open mouth. By the time they shattered the ceiling, most of it was already melted by dragonfire.
They landed, the force of it sending glass and debris flying. Thessa roared again, the sound echoing as Heles circled.
Take Anabeth to safety, Soren ordered Thessa, already sliding off her back.
Godling—
Now, before she tries to follow. Please, Thessa.
Thessa took off with one final, ear-splitting screech. Soren knew the sound was a mix of rage and sorrow. Her dragon knew what fate she could be leaving Soren too.
Soren coughed, the air thick with smoke and debris. But as it thinned, and she saw ahead to the raised dais where the throne sat, her spine went rigid.
Kronos held Vane in what almost looked like a lover’s embrace, his broad, golden arms wrapped around Vane’s waist. He was saying something in Vane’s ear with a smile, and in his hand…
