The sun was shining—seriously, in the middle of March. After a winter that felt like it would never end, the warmth was more than welcome. It seeped through the air, chasing away the last remnants of frostbite and snowstorms, wrapping everything in a golden glow that made the world feel alive again. Even the leaves seemed to be whispering their thanks.

They were sprawled out on the grassy hill just outside the camp’s arena. She leaned back against a tree trunk, legs stretched out in front of her, parchment crinkling between her fingers as she read the looping, ancient letters. Greek was easier to read now, thanks to years of practice (and the whole demigod brain thing), but these were old words. His head was resting on her thighs, curls spilling over in a tangled mess, catching the sunlight in golden-brown strands. His eyes were closed, lips just barely parted. His hands rested on her hips, fingers curling into the fabric of her pants, anchoring him there. She shifted slightly, the parchment rustling as her eyes traced another ancient phrase. Her voice was a quiet murmur as she read it under her breath, the words tasting like power and dust. A sigh escaped him, soft and content, and his eyes fluttered open, those sea-green irises staring up at her like she was the only thing that mattered in the world. Percy’s gaze was steady, unwavering, and a little lopsided smile tugged at his lips.

“Keep reading,” he said, his voice low and lazy, like he’d just woken up from the best nap of his life. “I like listening to you.”

She rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t fight the grin that crept onto her face. “I didn’t know ancient Greek was so riveting.”

“It’s not,” he admitted, the corner of his mouth quirking up. “But you make it sound nice.” His hands tightened on her hips, just for a second, before he settled back, eyes still fixed on hers. “You’re beautiful.” He murmured, his lips back against the fabric of her pants.