Page 270 of The Mortal Trials

His grip tightens on me. “Are you sure?”

“I am.”

He squeezes me once more before letting me go, turning and running toward the nearest exit. All I can think as I watch him leave is…What if we’re too late?

August and I are among the last to arrive back at the temple. We rush down the steps and manage to catch up with Niall and Elias as they share Koda’s weight near the bottom of the many staircases. At the final landing, August takes Koda into his arms and carries him the rest of the way to our oikos. I open the door for them and hurry to peel back the blanket before August gingerly lays our friend in the bed.

“I need boiling water. I have a tea that might help him,” I say aloud, wondering how we can get it for him. If they ask their champions for it, would that break the rules against helping another pantheon’s mortal? What if they also take a sip?

Niall and Elias look to each other for a solution when one creeps into the room.

“Koda requires boiling water, you say?” Anansi, regally draped in red, conjures a kettle that leaks steam from its spout and walks to the bedside.

My shoulders sag with relief. I take the tin out of my pocket, open the lid, and shake the loose leaves into a cup.

Anansi’s sharp eyes meet mine before flicking to the teacup. He sniffs the air like he’s sifting through the contents and quantities. “This is your tea?”

I nod.

“It’s very kind of you to share it with him.” Anansi carefully pours steaming water into the cup.

I take a spoon and mix it well, then let it steep. Bits of leaves and petals swirl at the surface. “I don’t have any honey. I hope it’s not too bitter,” I apologize.

August helps Koda sit up and in a moment of uncharacteristic tenderness and care, Anansi takes the cup from my hands and holds it to Koda’s chapped lips. “Drink, my friend.” The god offers him sips until only the dregs remain.

I offer him a spoon. “Every part is important.”

Anansi feeds Koda the leaves and petals. Nothing goes to waste.

In the hour that follows, Koda’s shivering stops. His coughing vanishes and he breathes easier. The flush recedes from his cheeks, along with his fever. Relief settles over us all.

We help him get comfortable in the bed, then cover him with the blanket so he can rest. He falls asleep, his soft, rhythmic breathing the only sound as Anansi nods toward the door.

August and I follow him outside, where Niall and Elias wait.

“How is he?” Niall asks, looking between our faces.

“Resting,” Anansi answers.

August and Niall start talking and their voices gradually become muffled. I worry something’s wrong with my hearing, fearing I lost more blood than I realized, when the trickster god’s keen eyes turn to me.

“No one – god or mortal – can hear us right now. I’ve cast a web over us.”

My chest tightens. The temple looms above. The Greek gods made this sand, every grain. It’s their wind that rustles the sea oats. “How can you be sure?”

“Because I have a unique ability, Callalie Ryan. Now, I’m going to ask you a very simple question. Where did you get that tea?”

He’s a snake in the brush, and I’m someone walking by without realizing the danger. I fight the urge to swallow. To run. I pray that my mother is safe and hidden, and that Cillian was able to get to Abuela and take her to Morrigan for protection.

“Did the Pythia give it to you?” he presses. Anansi stares at the oikos. “I haven’t smelled one of its ingredients in millennium.”

As much as I want to trust Anansi, I can’t. If he thinks the Pythia provided this remedy, let him. “You should go talk to her, then. I don’t know anything about the concoction.” In the end, he’s a god playing a game, and I’m a mortal who would do anything to protect my family. I clear my throat. “Maybe something in the tea just reminds you of whatever you think you remember.”

His eyes narrow. “Whatever I think…” he seethes. “The allies you’ve made will be vital as you move forward, Callalie. But don’t forget that gods can be allies, too.”

He’s going to get me killed if anyone notices us or senses what he’s doing. A nosy god or mortal might accuse him of assisting. Anansi doesn’t care about Koda, or else he wouldn’t risk his life over something as trivial as an ingredient in a cup of tea.

“Ogun still speaks of August Aymes,” he casually mentions. “Tell me who gave you that blend, and I will ensure he champions your friend.”