Piers thought it was likely some combination of both. Athena could just as easily have knocked on Sophie’s door and asked for the shard, but the gods didn’t work like that. They watched events unfold and set possibilities into motion. Then they saw what came of things, good or bad. There was destiny, and there was free will. It was the sticky, confusing, interlocking mix of both that fascinated the Olympians as they observed, sometimes neglecting, and sometimes nudging, from their mountaintop.

“I’m really glad you’re here.” Sophie’s thumbs swept over his knuckles and back again, her skin silky-soft and warm.

Piers’s flesh tingled, his blood heating to her touch. Their eyes met, and his pulse sped up. He couldn’t remember the last time he wanted to throw all caution to the wind, wrap his arms around a woman, and kiss her.

Emotion expanded in his chest. He wanted to be the man Sophie turned to for more than just the Shard of Olympus, and the thought simultaneously elated and terrified him. It pierced his heart and stuck there like a barbed arrow from Eros. She’d become precious to him too quickly for anything other than the Fates to be steering this strange and unexpected course. Then, what happened when he found his way back to Thalyria and his family? What happened if he didn’t? In both scenarios, he lost.

His gut churned again, tight with worries. Piers was sure of one thing, so he focused on it.

“I want to help you, Sophie.” He wouldn’t fail her, no matter the cost. “If there’s a way to contact Athena, we’ll find it. I promise.” He might have a sword strapped to his back—and gaining him odd looks from the other restaurant patrons—but he was a researcher and a scholar above all else. He’d investigate; he’d find a solution; he’d do whatever needed to be done. Then Sophie would be safe.

“As insane as all this sounds, I believe you. And I’m not half as scared anymore. Two is stronger than one, and together is way better than alone.” Sophie’s smile punched Piers right in the chest and left him short of breath.

Sophronia’s was a thousand-ship smile, the kind nothing was off-limits to protect. His heart drummed. His world shifted.

So, this was how lightning struck.

“Then consider me your other half,” he rasped.

Her smile gained a playfulness he hoped she’d never lose. “I might not be great at math, but don’t two halves usually make one?”

Exactly.

Sophie finished her coffee, her spirits brighter than before, and Piers kept watch with new vigilance. The Olympian treasure she had in her possession was no laughing matter, and whoever wanted it would send more soldiers. He’d be ready when they did.