Page 112 of The Mortal Trials

The spear he’d been using is gone. His golden blade is back in the baldric across his chest. He gawks at the sobbing woman lying on the ground as we start to run. “What happened?”

“Callalie cut her Achilles heel,” Veronia supplies, glancing uneasily at her friend.

“To stop her from coming after us again. And to keep her from biting you,” I aim at Veronia.

He nods. “I’ll try it on the boar next time, if it finds another way to come after us. Right now, it’s pinned. I’m worried it will eventually work the branch free, though. The moss is so thick and the ground so full of roots, I don’t know how deep I was able to drive it.”

“It bought us time,” I tell him.

“Callalie!” a familiar voice calls from far away.

“August!”

I push faster, hurrying toward Aymes, who keeps calling my name, drawing to an abrupt stop when from behind a broad tree, Torsten steps into my path. A symbol is cut into his forehead. Blood from it has run down his eyelids and onto his cheeks. The blood is dry despite the cloying mist.

When he sees me studying the mark, he gives his friends a feral grin, and in his thick accent, says, “Well done.”

I look from Veronia, who wears a victorious smile, to Hazi.

And… my stomach drops.

Torsten’s eyes slip to Veronia. “The portal is that way. It’s not far. Go.”

“But…” She hesitates, cutting her eyes to me.

“What did I say?” he snarls, taking an aggressive step toward her.

She flinches before reluctantly jogging in the direction he told her to go.

I blow out a frustrated breath. Torsten’s allies have been working this whole time to separate me from mine, and I ran right into their trap. A trap the gods helped set, since the divine architects decided where we were dropped and near whom.

I start to raise my makeshift weapon, but Torsten notices. The tip of his stolen golden sword pierces my bodysuit and shallowly slits the skin covering my heart.

I hiss from the sting.

If Aymes is close, he’ll come to my aid. “Aug—”

Torsten slices upward. The blade cuts into the underside of my chin, severing my words. A stream of warm blood trickles down my neck.

“None of that.” The Norseman’s nostrils flare as he stares me down.

My chest rises and crashes, breath rushing in and out. If I didn’t think he’d run me through, I’d make fun of his still-puffy, crooked nose.

As if he knows what I’m thinking, he bares his teeth and lifts my chin a fraction higher with the blade.

“Let her go,” Hazi says so casually, I shift my eyes to try to see him better.

Torsten sneers, “Why would I do that?”

Hazi eases the curved golden dagger from his baldric. “Because you’re not going to kill her.”

“We’re allies.” The Norseman stares at Hazi, a warning in his eyes.

“Not anymore.” Hazi spits on the ground at Torsten’s feet.

“Is that so?” comes a gruff masculine voice.

Hazi grunts as Kallik, championed by Nanook of the Inuit pantheon, pulls his shoulder back. A knife glints as he presses the tip into his spine.