WINGED ₁

83

THE THREE FATES THEMSELVES TOOK LUKE'S BODY.

Madeleine had never seen them. If she had had anything left in her small, half-mortal body, she would have been scared. As it was, she just watched as they gathered the remains of her brother.

It is done, they said. One Fate held up a snippet of blue yarn. They wrapped Luke's body in a white-and-green shroud and began carrying it out of the throne room.

"Wait," Hermes said.

Madeleine's father looked young, only a few years older than Madeleine. His wavy brown hair, the same shade as hers, fell into his eyes. Her wore white robes and winged sandals. 

He unwrapped Luke's face and kissed his forehead. He murmured something in Ancient Greek, a finally blessing.

"Farewell," he whispered. Then he nodded and allowed the Fates to carry away his son's body. Madeleine did not miss the way he turned, tears falling down his cheeks. He looked so young and so broken, so tired of losing.

Apollo alighted next to Percy and Madeleine. He reached out to touch her, but she shook her head and pointed at Ethan.

Apollo pursed his lips. He clearly didn't like this, but he crouched next to Ethan and removed the boy's armor, then put a hand over his stomach. There were a few moments of absolute stillness, in which Madeleine was not sure who was going to live. 

Apollo jerked his wrist, and that horrible sliver of knife exited Ethan's stomach. The god murmured a few words and passed his hand over Ethan's skin, and the boy stopped bleeding. His breathing steadied.

Madeleine bowed her head. Her vision dotted black. She felt Percy's hand on her neck, holding her head up. She felt like she was underwater.

"My friends," she said quietly.

"I will have godlings heal them," Apollo promised, his voice far away. 

Madeleine faded in and out of consciousness. She was taken from the throne room to Apollo's chambers, where she had spent the night after losing Zoe. She was dimly aware of Apollo peeling her ruined shirt off, pressing his hands to her stomach. Blood all over his fingers. She was gutted from the inside out, a hollow shell of a girl.

When she finally surfaced, awake, she could breathe again. Her body no longer screamed. Her stomach was just her stomach. All that was left of the wound was a scar snaking through her flesh, faded white. A reminder.

Apollo was gone. Madeleine had not even had the chance to thank him. For a moment, she just lay in silence, staring at the ceiling.

"Madeleine," a voice said.

She sat up painfully. Her father was there, perched on the edge of Apollo's bed. His shoulders were hunched and sad.

"Dad," she returned. Her voice was terribly weak.

"You survived," he said, and his voice broke. He wrapped her in his arms and held her like she was a baby, and maybe he cried, or maybe she cried, or maybe they both cried. It was just such a relief that they still had each other, despite everything. 

"I told Luke," Madeleine said. "I told Luke that you loved him. In the end, he knew."

Hermes put his hands on Madeleine's shoulders and studied her face. "My girl," he said quietly. "My beautiful, brave girl." He pressed his hand to her cheek. "Thank you."

Madeleine did not answer. She did not need to. Hermes knew how she felt about him. He had been protecting her since day one, shielding her from a fate like Luke's. She would never be able to thank him enough for that. Her father, her beautiful father, crushed with loss. Her father, who had always been looking out for her.