Page 143 of The Mortal Trials

“So am I. I never meant for anyone else to be hurt.”

“Whatever happens tomorrow, I’m glad for this. That I had some time with you.” He kisses my forehead. “I wish things were different.”

“I do, too.” It’s all I can manage.

I thought Mamá might be able to help somehow.

I’m not sure anything can help me now.

“I still mean it. I’d rather die with you than live for any of them,” he says of the gods.

I try to smile. Fight the tears that swell my throat. And lie to August Aymes. “We should get some rest. I’m exhausted.”

He hears the lie immediately, but he doesn’t ask me for the truth. “Sure,” he softly agrees, shifting to get more comfortable.

He combs through my hair with his fingers and I close my eyes and pretend to sleep, all the while savoring every touch, his scent, his warmth. The sound of his breath and the feel of his heartbeat under my ear.

If I asked Morrigan, would she send Ceann Ársa to carry us back to her realm knowing it would start a new, vicious war?

I think she would do it. But the cost would be too great for too many people.

It’s hard to argue with self-preservation, but that’s what I do until the sky lightens from black to royal blue. I think and scheme and try to bargain and look for a way out of this mess. We need to escape death – at least for today.

We can worry about tomorrow later.

29

When the stars fade, August and I dress in white. I don my leg, a short skirt I can move easily in, and a cropped tank top. Three green feathers grace my hair. Abuela’s necklace lays on my chest like armor. My obsidian shard is tucked into the waistband of my skirt, cool and flat against my skin. I clutch my golden spear.

Quetzals circle over August’s house and mine. Too many to count. They cry as we leave.

Aymes wears shorts. A long-sleeved tee. Bare feet. Torsten’s former sword in hand.

We walk down the sand path that leads from the oikos, cross the wide expanse of sand, and start to climb. Niall falls into step with us. He gives me a weary, nervous look.

Then Koda joins us, having no trouble walking on his own or keeping our pace. Elias jogs to meet us. Then Ulani and Vailea catch up. Finally, near the top, Tae and Hazi come.

Our allies. Our friends.

“These birds are insane,” Elias notes, looking back as the quetzals swoop and cry overhead. He doesn’t know they don’t belong here.

They don’t belong in Abuela’s garden either, but someplace green and lush and damp where they can perch and sing and thrive. But they’re drawn to her. And now, they’re drawn to me. Is this Mamá’s reply? That she can’t come or open a door, but that she’s watching?

If she’s able to help during the trial, will she?

The quetzals fly with us to the hilltop, but they don’t enter the temple when we do. From inside, I hear their calls. The sun throws their shadows across the pale banners.

The other allied group waits near the portal staircase with Ares, Hermes, and Morrigan. I cut a glance at Niall but can’t read his reaction to her presence.

This heavy, unjust moment presses down on us all.

A phantom wind billows the god of war’s blood red cape as he stands tall and proud, looking us all over with thinly veiled contempt. His long hair is tied back at his nape, revealing harsh features. His sapphire armor gleams when the swaths of white fabric ringing the temple sway and the first rays of sunlight pierce the room.

“Welcome to your final trial,” his voice booms in the stillness. “All mortals who survive it and have garnered champions before the laurel crown is laid on the winner’s head will progress to the games.”

Before the laurel lands… That’s the end of the final trial, and potentially, our lives.

Ares smirks pointedly at August and me.