We stay on the floor for too long. Until the lettuce starts to liquefy under us.

  Finally, he pulls away long enough to look at me. He looks like he’s about to either cry or pass out. His eyes are glassy and his cheeks are sallow. He looks like a ghost of the boy who stood in my kitchen all those weeks ago.

  “What happened to you?” I breathe out as I brush my fingers across his forehead, pushing the hair out of his eyes.

  He tries and fails to force that little smirk. Instead, he presses his forehead to mine and closes his eyes. “I heard your prayer,” he says slowly, his hands falling from my shoulders to wrap around my own. “I tried to come back, but…” He swallows hard, his hands squeezing tighter. “But I couldn’t without raising alarm. I had to catch up on everything I haven’t been keeping up with. I thought Iris could cover for me. She tried. But—"

  “Hermes.” I cut him off his rant and his eyes fly open, leaning away from me again. “It’s okay.”

  “It’s not,” he says quietly, bringing my hand up to press his lips to my knuckles. “You didn’t cross a line or piss me off. You needed me and I wasn’t here for you. And I am so sorry, Alira.”

  Something in my chest shatters at his words. I bite back the tears stinging my eyes. “You didn’t—” Shit. Did I screw up with that prayer? Did I sound too desperate? Did he hurt himself to get back to me? “Are you hurt?”

  A quiet laugh escapes him. Too hollow to be funny, too warm to be empty. “No. I’m not hurt.” He runs a hand across my cheek, like he can smooth out whatever damage he thinks he’s done to me. “Just tired.”

  “Then come lay down.” Pushing off my knees, I pull his hands with me until he’s standing on wobbly knees. As I walk with him toward the couch, he stumbles like he’s on the verge of passing out. “What did they do to you?”

  He doesn’t answer right away. Not until he’s flopped down on the couch. He grimaces and lets out a long groan as a wing crinkles awkwardly under him. With a little shimmying, he leans back and lets his eyes fall closed.

  His voice sounds wet as he talks, like he needs to clear his throat but can’t. “They didn’t do anything to me,” he starts, crossing his ankles as he drapes one arm over his eyes. “I just had too much to catch up on.”

  I sit down on the floor next to him and cross my legs under me. “You don’t just look a little worn out, Hermes.” He lifts his arm to peek at me with a raised eyebrow. “You look like you spent the week getting the shit kicked out of you.”

  He exhales sharply before his arm folds back over his eyes and his jaw clenches tight. There’s a beat of silence where I think he’s fallen asleep before he finally speaks. “My father has always been very fond of me.” His jaw ticks like he’s trying to stop himself from spilling too much information. “His version of…disappointment…isn’t subtle.”

  My breath catches in my throat. I look down at the streak on my finger, still shining in the low light of the living room. “What does that mean?” I ask quietly, scrubbing my thumb over the smudge like I can erase it. “Did he hurt you? Please don’t lie to me.”

  He licks his lips, his foot bouncing against the arm of the couch. “He didn’t hurt me. He threatened to take away my Kinesis.” He finally clears his throat. “That’s the—what lets me come and go.”

  A feeling of disgust washes over me, and my nails dig into my palms as I stare at the floor. “Come and go? Meaning you wouldn’t be able to come here anymore.”

  He nods faintly. “Here. The Underworld. I’d become Zeus’s lap dog. Constrained to Olympus forever.”

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  “He can’t mean that, right?” I watch as a wan smile spreads across his lips. “He wouldn’t actually do that.”

  “He’s done worse for far less.”

  My lips curl into a frown as tears well in my eyes. “What can we do?”

  “I don’t know.”

  His mouth forms a thin line as his free hand reaches out for mine. I scoot closer and wrap my hand around his, bringing them into my lap.

  He’s asleep before I have the chance to ask any more questions, so I just lean my head against the edge of the couch and watch as his body twitches. Even at rest, he can’t stay still. His fingers twitch against mine, his leg muscle tremble, even his eyelids flutter.

  Being here is actively hurting him.

  Threatening to strip him of everything he has.

  Threatening to take him away from me.

  My heart aches for him. I wish I could fix this. If I could walk into Olympus and explain my side of things, maybe I could make them understand. Maybe the gold smear on my hand means something I don’t know yet. Maybe there’s someone other than Zeus who can help.

  Or maybe I’d get myself lighting-smote or burst into flames like Dionysus’s mom. Or thrown off a cliff or chained to the sun or bound to a boulder.

  There seems to be a myriad of creative ways to die or live in eternal torment in Olympus. And he’s facing that alone, knowing that being here is putting him in a direct path of danger.

  This is all too complicated. It would be so much easier if I could just be where he needs me. If I could be in Olympus. I don’t even know if that’s possible. Or smart. Or a death sentence.

  Leaning sideways to pull my phone from my back pocket, I consult google once again.

  humans who went to olympus

  A website called Greek Legends and Myths is the first thing to pop up. Scrolling through, I learn about Psyche, who married Greek cupid and gained divinity through a series of deadly trials.

  There’s another named Ariadne, who married Dionysus at some point. Or hung herself after being abandoned by her boyfriend on a desert island. I hope she made it to Olympus.

  I can’t find a whole lot else about humans and Olympus. Psyche sounds promising, although I don’t think I’d have the strength or willpower to make it through divine trials. Or the beauty that she had to make cupid fall in love with me.

  Tapping the edge of my phone case, my eyes trail to the glowing streak…

  why does ichor burn humans

  A Wikipedia article pops up.

  Something about ethereal fluid, something called Ambrosia, and then “Ichor is described as toxic to humans, killing them instantly if they came in contact with it.”

  Hermes said it would burn me. Not that it was supposed to kill me. I don’t know if it makes a difference, considering it didn’t.

  If it didn’t kill me, what does that mean? Is Hermes’s ichor wrong somehow? Am I somehow immune to its effects? Why did it leave a streak of light on me?

  Unsurprisingly, my search of why didn’t ichor kill me doesn’t bring up anything useful.

  It’s probably better not to know. The answer likely isn’t pleasant.

  I shouldn’t be worrying about this stuff right now, anyway. Not while Hermes is sleeping on my couch, probably dreaming about all the ways he could succumb to death or immortal torture if he doesn’t figure something out.

  Or maybe, he doesn’t need to figure anything out.

  An idea pops into my head, and I pry my hand out of his grasp. Making my way to my bedroom, my mind is reeling with all the things that could go wrong.

  Hermes might hate me for even suggesting the idea. But I can’t sit around while he wears himself thin. Especially not with a target on his back. Whether he likes it or not, I’m packing my bags.

  And when he wakes up, I’m going with him to Olympus.

  I don’t know what to pack.

  What does one need in a god realm like Olympus?

  Clothes, obviously. I have a single duffel bag, so I have to make it count.

  I shove a few pairs of shorts, jeans, and sweatpants into the bottom of the bag, then whatever shirts are actually clean.

  My toothbrush is obviously a must, but what about makeup? I hardly wear it here. Would Zeus be more likely to not lightning-smite me if I look nice? I don’t know. Seems decently reasonable.

  I grab a few other essentials; shampoo and conditioner, body wash, my razor.

  This all feels silly. Realistically, how long am I going to be there? A week or two. Just long enough to convince someone that this is bullshit. If Greek cupid gets to be in love with a mortal, why can’t Hermes?

  Not in love. Just enjoying spending time with. Emotional support.

  Yeah, that’ll go over well. Spare me, the emotional support human.

  That’s not something I need to worry about right now. All I need to worry about is making sure he’s okay. And that he’ll agree to bring me with him.

  What if he just decides I can’t come with? I can’t exactly get there on my own.

  Not an option. I’ll figure it out.

  Gathering all my stuff, ID and phone included, I plop down next to the couch and grab Hermes’s hand again.

  I don’t know what the hell is going to come of all this, but I’m not losing him again.