Page 229 of The Mortal Trials

Koda and August chuckle.

“We’re good. For tomorrow,” I emphasize.

“So, tomorrow’s an audition? That’s fair,” is his answer. He lays his head back down, untroubled.

I can’t say I feel the same. There’s a knot in the pit of my stomach and I’m not sure how to unravel it, or whether I should.

16

Deep in the night while August sleeps, I slip across his sand path to mine and walk behind my oikos. The sea laps at the rocks upon which the tiny island was built. I grab the rope I’ve tied around the base of one of the less conspicuous boulders and reel in my spear, careful not to catch it on the rocks or disturb any of the monsters Ares installed to guard us.

Even in the silvery moonlight, the gold gleams. I hurry back to August’s and slide the weapon beneath his bed before removing my prosthesis and stretching back out beside him.

I need to rest. To sleep. But no matter how I try to quiet my mind, my thoughts won’t settle. I roll over onto my back and consider what this trial might entail, thanks in part to the Greek Elias, whose colorful imagination this evening sparked horrors in my mind.

The closest window is open and the cool sea breeze brushes over my heated skin.

How far away is dawn?

I imagine Torsten waiting on the stairs leading to the temple, ready to fight and rob whoever he can as we arrive. If he still needs a weapon, he’ll try to claim one today.

Considering the scant pile of clothes the bastard didn’t shred, I’m not even sure what I’ll wear.

August stretches and rolls over, his eyes lazily blinking open. He glances out the window where the stars wink back. His tired stare finds me. “Can’t sleep?”

“Not for lack of trying,” I sigh, eliciting a raspy chuckle from him.

August yawns and arches his back.

I sit up and toss the blanket off. I roll my sheath on, bringing my prosthesis to meet the pin. Daedalus’s magic wraps around my skin, warming it.

August sits up and scrubs his face with both hands. His golden hair is a mess.

“I’m sorry I woke you up.”

He shrugs. “It’s almost time to wake up, anyway.”

I thought so, but… “How can you tell?”

“That star.” He points out the window. He yawns again and explains how the time of day can be observed by the way it arcs across the sky this time of year.

A pinch of heartache. Carina would have known that, too.

I wish I would’ve paid closer attention to the things she loved and tried to love them, too. I wish it wasn’t too late to learn them now.

August heads to the bathing room. While he’s busy, I examine my outfit options… which are sparse and not ideal in the least.

I finally pull on a gauzy ivory skirt that cinches at my waist and stretches to mid-thigh, and a cotton tank top, electing to go barefoot again. It worked well enough for me in the first trial.

Which means Ares will probably have us walking across glass in this one.

August emerges more awake. His damp hair is combed, his face freshly scrubbed and shaved. His stare slips to the sliver of exposed skin at my stomach, before he walks over to his trunk and pulls out a pair of white shorts and a tee shirt.

I look down at my legs, silently cursing Torsten for shredding the bodysuit that would’ve offered more protection. This outfit, and another that’s much like it, are all I have left, thanks to him.

Aymes steps away to get dressed, and when he’s finished, he walks over to the window and braces his hands on the sill, dropping his head.

Giving him space, I step into the bathing room to see to my needs, scrub my face, brush my teeth, and braid my hair down the back of my head and into a thick rope that reaches the small of my back. I tug two pieces out, binding my feathers to the strands with scraps of torn linen.