The Silver Archer 2️⃣ (Percy Jackson)

31. Smokin' Hot, Baby

Adira (+Percy)

I was mad when I ran away. But when I came back, I felt relieved. I felt closer with the earth.

Percy had a pretty strange look on his face.

"Percy?" I asked. "Should we, um, leave again?"

He looked at Rachel. "You're not going to do anything stupid, are you? I mean . . . you talked to Chiron, right?"

She managed a faint smile. "You're worried about me doing something stupid?"

"But I mean . . . will you be okay?"

"I don't know," she admitted. "That kind of depends on whether you save the world, hero."

Percy picked up Pandora's jar. The spirit of Hope fluttered inside, trying to warm the cold container.

"Hestia," Percy said, "I give this to you as an offering."

The goddess tilted her head. "I am the least of the gods. Why would you trust me with this?"

"You're the last Olympian," he said. "And the most important."

"And why is that, Percy Jackson?"

"Because Hope survives best at the hearth," I mumbled to myself.

Percy nodded. "Guard it for me, and I won't be tempted to give up again."

The goddess smiled. She took the jar in her hands and it began to glow. The hearth fire burned a little brighter.

"Well done, Percy Jackson," she said. "May the gods bless you."

"We're about to find out." Percy looked at me. "Come on, guys."

He marched toward his father's throne.

The seat of Poseidon stood just to the right of Zeus's, but it wasn't nearly as grand. The molded black leather seat was attached to a swivel pedestal, with a couple of iron rings on the side for fastening a fishing pole (or a trident). Basically it looked like a chair on a deep-sea boat, that you would sit in if you wanted to hunt shark or marlin or sea monsters.

Gods in their natural state are about twenty feet tall, so I could just reach the edge of the seat if I stretched my arms.

"Help me up," Percy told us.

"'Are you crazy?" Annabeth asked.

"You're really asking him that?" I scoffed.

"Probably," Percy admitted.

"Percy," Grover said, "the gods really don't appreciate people sitting in their thrones. I mean like turn-you-into-a-pile-of-ashes don't appreciate it."

"I need to get his attention," Percy said. "It's the only way."

We exchanged uneasy looks.

"Well," I said, "this'll get his attention."

Grover and I linked our arms to make a step, then boosted Percy onto the throne.

PERCY POV
(because this scene is funny and adorable to me)

I shook my head. Concentrate.

The throne rumbled. A wave of gale-force anger slammed into my mind:

WHO DARES—

The voice stopped abruptly. The anger retreated, which was a good thing, because just those two words had almost blasted my mind to shreds.

Percy. My father's voice was still angry but more controlled. What—exactly—are you doing on my
throne?

"I'm sorry, Father," I said. "I needed to get your attention."

This was a very dangerous thing to do. Even for you. If I hadn't looked before I blasted, you would
now be a puddle of seawater.

"I'm sorry," I said again. "Listen, things are rough up here."

I told him what was happening. Then I told him my plan.

His voice was silent for a long time.

Percy, what you ask is impossible. My palace—

"Dad, Kronos sent an army against you on purpose. He wants to divide you from the other gods because he knows you could tip the scales."

Be that as it may, he attacks my home.

"I'm at your home," I said. "Olympus."

The floor shook. A wave of anger washed over my mind. I thought I'd gone too far, but then the
trembling eased. In the background of my mental link, I heard underwater explosions and the sound of battle cries: Cyclopes bellowing, mermen shouting.

"Is Tyson okay?" I asked.

The question seemed to take my dad by surprise. He's fine. Doing much better than I expected. Though "peanut butter" is a strange battle cry.

"You let him fight?"

Stop changing the subject! You realize what you are asking me to do? My palace will be destroyed.

"And Olympus might be saved."

Do you have any idea how long I've worked on remodeling this palace? The game room alone took
six hundred years.

"Dad—"

Very well! It shall be as you say. But my son, pray this works.

"I am praying. I'm talking to you, right?"

Oh . . . yes. Good point. Amphitrite—incoming!

The sound of a large explosion shattered our connection.

I slipped down from the throne.

BACK TO ADIRA POV

"Are you okay? You turned pale and . . . you started smoking," I asked.

"Why? Because I'm hot?" he scoffed, letting out a slight laugh.

"Yeah, smokin' hot, baby," I scoffed, pointing at his arms. Then he looked. Steam was curling off the shirtsleeves. The hair on his arms was singed. "Holy shit!"

"If you'd sat there any longer," I said, "you would've spontaneously combusted. I hope the conversation was worth it."

Moo, said the Ophiotaurus in his sphere of water.

"We'll find out soon," Percy said.

Just then the doors of the throne room swung open. Thalia marched in. Her bow was snapped in half and her quiver was empty.

"You've got to get down there," she told us. "The enemy is advancing. And Kronos is leading them."