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He’d been the one to pick me up this morning. From knowing him for a few short minutes I could already tell that his filter was paper thin, speaking honestly even if it wasn’t in accordance with social graces.

It was while he was giving me an efficient tour of Olympus, speaking with such a banal tone that nowhere near matched the grand columns and rare flowers and bustling town nestled in the mountains, that I realized how thankful I was that he kept his thoughts to himself when I’d opened my door to him this morning.

Because it was early—early enough that I didn’t have the mind to hide the disappointment that bloomed in my chest, then trickled up to my face when I realized that Adrian wasn’t coming to grab me himself.

It was a painful reminder that the past night had been plagued with him. I couldn’t sleep, couldn’t think of anything else but him. I blamed it on the storm, the rumbling of clouds outside reminding me of his power and his strength.

The more dangerous part was that I was even more convinced that the weather was tied to his mood, made worse by the stress that was surely coursing through his veins from Gus’s delivery the night before.

And seeing him this morning, his gray eyes haunted, made the urgency in my chest spin even tighter.

But that wasn’t my place, I had to remind myself. The concern that had broken through my walls landed like a stone in water. Adrian was clearly sticking to the sterile, emotionless nature of the agreement. I just had to do the same.

To distract myself from the arrival of the four most powerful gods outside of Adrian, I looked around the room, taking in all the details. I’d snorted when Emre first led me into the palace Adrian called a house.

It was more of a temple than a home—all sparkling white marble and towering columns.

But then he led me down a series of long hallways and the walls changed from the hard cut of stone to something softer. Wood and beautiful wallpaper, clearly part of someone’s unique taste.

And then it became clear that the front of the palace was a facade. And that Adrianactuallylived in something of a modest home, looking comfortable and warm.

Two words I’d never think to describe him, but made sense all the same.

I looked over to Persy, who was lounging on her brother’s lush, dark gray sofa like a cat basking in afternoon light. Her fingers were lifted, playing with the rays of light streaming through the large window behind us like she could bend them to her will.

“She’s always loved the sun,” Adrian said, dropping the words close to my ear.

I turned to him, offering him a close-lipped smile that I hoped didn’t expose how nervous I was feeling. “I can see it. Her hair looks like the sun itself.”

You could hardly tell the difference, actually. The white-gold strands were reflecting the sun in a way that made them look like they were a natural extension of it, like the embodiment of it.

Adrian grinned, then opened his mouth, but whatever he was about to say was cut off by voices outside his door.

“We got here first,” a rich voice said, carrying an undertone that immediately made me wary to piss its owner off. That was the kind of voice that sent you to the deepest parts of the Underworld, subject to an eternity of torture in Tartarus.

“Don’t think so, Dommy,” an equally deep voice, butone that clearly wielded humor as a weapon said. I recognized this one—Lukas. “We stepped through the portal first. It’s not our fault you were distracted.”

“As the distraction in question,” a melodic female voice cut in, “I think the rules are who got the portal open first.”

“I clearly missed the establishing of such rules,” a familiar voice—Daphne—retorted. “If we’re competing for who got here first, then it should—”

Whatever suggestion she was going to propose was cut off by the jostling of bodies and the doors to Adrian’s office slamming open. Lord Poseidon and Lord Pluto stood at the threshold, looking more like boys on the playground rather than gods.

Only for a second, however, before the full weight of their power slammed into the room.

From Lord Poseidon, a blast of salt-tinged sea air, filling the room with a breath of life.

From Lord Pluto, the deepening of the shadows, making the light from outside stand even more stark against the darkened corners of Adrian’s office.

My spine straightened on instinct, ready to greet them, but then Lady Pluto—Rose, as Daphne had always insisted I call her—snaked out from around her husband and stalked toward Adrian.

I pressed into the hand that he had placed on my back, though I couldn’t recall exactly when. I hated it, especially because I knew of Daphne’s relationship with her, but my inclination was to shy away from her.

It wasn’t every day you were confronted with Death herself, especially when she was intimidatingly beautiful and clearly capable of ripping you limb from limb should she choose.

“Which one of them got here first?” she asked, pointing over her shoulder.

Adrian held up his free hand in surrender. “I’m afraid I can’t say. Too close to break the tie.”