Page 204 of The Mortal Trials

I stop him with a yell. “Cill?”

He turns to see what I want.

“Did you return the robes?” Please tell me he trusted me.

His smile fades. “I did.”

I quirk a brow. “Unmended?”

He nods. “Unmended.”

I place a hand over my heart to thank him. He returns the gesture, then continues to his Master. He waves again before taking the tunnel out of the colosseum.

My next hurdle: the staircase to the portal. Koda was right about this being ridiculous. Why can’t they just conjure a portal where we stand? Or one that takes us right to the shore? What’s with all the bloody steps?

Pushing down, I try to bend the joint, but it’s stuck in a straight position.

Just then, August crouches to inspect my knee. He stands up, grinning down at me like an idea just struck him. He points at the stairs. “When I step down, climb onto my back.”

My head ticks back in surprise. “Excuse me?”

“Get on my back,” he repeats. “I’ll carry you.”

My face heats. “That’s not necessary.”

“Looking at your knee, I think it is. Come on. It’ll be fun. Remember piggyback rides when you were a kid?” he prods.

I guffaw. Of course I remember, but I never had a piggyback ride from August Aymes. “You’re not carrying me like a child.”

His brow rises. “You’d rather spend the afternoon creeping down the thousand steps to your house, risking further damage and an ambush while you’re most vulnerable, when I can just give you a quick ride?” He puffs out his chest. “It’s what a hero would do.”

“What do you know of heroism?” I grumble.

He fakes offense, then throws out his arms. “I’m here, aren’t I? Someone thinks I’m hero material. Tell you what. Let’s make a deal.” He outstretches his hand, fingers curled to clutch my wrist.

I narrow my eyes at it. It might as well be a serpent, fangs exposed and ready to strike.

He raises his hands in surrender and takes a few steps down toward the portal. “If you can walk down this staircase, I’ll leave you alone. If you struggle, you climb on my back without causing any more of a fuss.”

Fuss? I don’t cause fusses. I don’t fuss at all.

My pride swells. I can do this. I’ll use the spear to help. I don’t want a piggyback ride. I don’t need one. I’ve bent my joint worse than this before. This is nothing but a temporary, annoying inconvenience. Just like him.

I plant the spear on the first stair and step down with my bare foot. All is well until I try to swing my prosthesis down onto it. My heel strikes the edge and… I lose my footing.

August catches me before I bowl him over and with a satisfied grin, turns his broad back to me. “Up you go.”

Displeased, but not fussy at all, I glance down at my bodysuit, then at his back. With the help of the sun and wind, his linen shirt is nearly dry. It doesn’t feel like my clothes have dried at all. “I’m wet.”

A cheeky smile curves his lips. “You say that like it’s a bad thing, Callalie,” he purrs.

I almost die. Right there. No divine intervention.

He throws his head back, laughing. “You’re blushing!”

I am not blushing. I don’t blush.

I put the tip of my spear under his chin and push upward. He stops chuckling but doesn’t erase his smile. “Turn around.”