Page 177 of The Mortal Trials

I slam into an invisible force that won’t let me through.

I’m trapped here.

Confined to this hellish island.

Niall is inside his oikos. I doubt he’ll hear me if I shout. The tide is high and roaring waves pound against the rocks. He won’t be able to leave his island even if I yell.

On the other side of my prison, moonlight slips over a tall form as someone traverses the path to their new home.

“Callalie?”

I would know that voice anywhere. August Aymes is the owner of the fourteenth island.

“Yeah,” I croak.

“You okay?”

A hand at my brow.

A hysterical laugh threatening to bubble from my chest.

My first instinct is to lie to him like I do everyone else. But the craziest thing happens, and I tell him the truth instead. “No.”

He turns and tries to walk back down the path, only to be held back. He starts toward the sea and even gets his foot into the water, only to hear a warning hiss from the waves. Something is waiting there for any who would dare desert or defy the gods who brought us here.

He would come to me if he could, and that’s enough of a comfort. He doesn’t even know me, and yet he cares. I’m not sure I understand it. I don’t think I have nearly as much empathy in my bones, but I’m grateful he does.

With my back to the wall, I sink down to sit in the sand.

Tears carve matching paths down my cheeks when August does the same on his island.

He’s quiet. He doesn’t pry. He just sits with me like we aren’t separated by the will of the gods and their monster-ridden sea.

And when I can’t bring myself to go back inside and stare at the cruel reminder of my life before Ares shredded it, August Aymes sits silently with me until the sun rises.

He doesn’t leave. He doesn’t sleep.

He just stays.

6

The night seemed to stretch for an eternity, but I’m worried it wasn’t long enough to fend off the fresh horrors the day will bring. The sun peeks over the horizon and climbs higher until it’s free of the sea’s maw and bleeds scarlet over the water.

I roll my shoulders, trying to ease the ache settled between their blades. August stands and dusts the sand off his legs and backside, stretching his arms high and bending left, then right.

I groan when I think of the amount of sand that’s somehow wormed its way into this tight bodysuit. I’ll never be able to get it all out. Not that I have other clothes or choices.

I brace myself on the wall and stand, letting my leg adjust to my weight and finding my balance.

August’s small sandy island is empty.

My shoulders sink. He must have finally gone inside.

I turn, trying to garner the courage to enter my house when his voice startles me.

“The paths are open now.” August is walking up the sandy path that leads to my oikos.

Peeling a hand off my racing heart, I spew the first thing that comes to mind. “So, we’re only trapped here at night.”