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    Summary

    "They're ambrosia pills," Ethan explained, the first to shed his white silk robe in order to set it on a nearby chair. Percy's mind faltered in its panic for a moment to consider Ethan's lean build, a swimmer's body like his own. He took a bit more comfort in his presence than Luke's, though not much.

    "They have nothing to do with Kronos," the son of Nemesis supplied, keeping his tone gentle and annoyingly neutral. "Lord Kronos has his own form, now. Those pills are simply a mixture of ambrosia, Hecate magic, and Dionysus's finest wine. They're completely optional, though, Percy."

    "Yeah, but the sex is not," Percy snapped back, doing all he could to fight back panic and nausea. He imagined he would simply dry heave if he threw up, though maybe it would turn the monsters off? On second thought, they would probably be even more into that. "Can't believe I gotta get bad touched by Uncle Luke just so I don't get shanked..."

    Ethan seemed unable to help but snicker at that, and Percy fixed him with a look of utter disdain.

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