“That might explain how it still holds magic after thousands of years in a place with none,” Piers said, starting to worry about the lack of color in Sophie’s cheeks. “Power like that doesn’t fade,” he added. “It’s just too strong.”

“I knew this was bad.” Her fingers curled around his, gripping hard. “In the wrong hands, it could be a weapon. A terrible weapon.”

Piers squeezed her back. “But yours aren’t the wrong hands.” He’d seen enough to know that. “The instructions were to give it to Athena?”

She nodded. Her eyes ate up half her face, and a visible swallow tracked down her throat.

“Then that’s what we’ll do,” Piers said.

Sophie nodded again, less hesitant this time. Her expression blared fear, but something else, too. Strength. Determination. A woman who didn’t give up without a fight—who maybe didn’t give up at all.

Pride welled in him. His Sophronia was a warrior. And suddenly, this world didn’t seem so foreign to him. “What do you feel when you touch it?” he asked.

“Cold.” She shuddered.

“What else?”

Reluctantly, Sophie added, “A vibration. A kind of constant buzzing, deep down.”

Magoi. He knew it. Maybe once she understood her magic, and with the help of the Shard of Olympus, she could send him home.

The thought twisted inside him as though wrapped in thorns, and Piers drew her hand closer across the checkered tablecloth, keeping it tucked in his. “We’ll figure this out. If Athena wants that shard off this world, she’ll come for it. We just have to make it easy for her.”

“You really think so?” Hopeful now, a little breathless, her cheeks gaining some color again, Sophie outshined everything in the room.

Piers could safely say she blinded him, and he was used to the dazzlingly bright Thalyrian sun.

He nodded, his fascination growing by the second. The urge to touch her, comfort her, protect her, intensified, and he reached for her other hand as well. Holding them both felt right—righter than the idea of letting them go. “The shard doesn’t belong here. Not anymore. It must’ve been buried. Or forgotten and left behind. If it made its way to you, there’s a reason the Fates wove it into your life.” Into mine… “You must be able to connect with it somehow. Or connect to the gods.”

“The Fates…” Sophie’s brow furrowed, but then she nodded. Something about the idea of destiny seemed to calm her down. “Thank you, Piers of Sinta. Gamma of the realm and third in line for the throne.”

Piers wasn’t extraordinarily fond of being teased, but if it put a glimmer back in Sophie’s blue eyes, he could get used to it. Gruffly, he muttered, “You’re welcome.”

She grinned. “It seems crazy, but I’m starting to think Athena put you in my path. Or maybe the Fates did.”