Page 37 of The Mortal Trials

“Infantry,” I clarify.

“So, the two of you weren’t handfasted when Ares started the war with Morrigan?” he questions. “That was just a rumor?”

That’s what the newscasters reported after that fateful moment on the battlefield – all the newscasters except my sister – who walked the sharp blade of a knife to tell the world the truth of that day, knowing full well it would cut her.

“Are they spreading that lie again?” I grouse.

August glances away. “No. I mean, I don’t know. I just remember the newscasts from back then.”

I take some solace that the information, false as it was, came from memory. “I tore the telecaster out of Abuela’s house after my sister’s murder, so I wouldn’t know what they said about us. But Niall and I were never handfasted. We had talked about having a life together after we served our terms in Morrigan’s army, but that didn’t happen.”

He wants to know what came between Niall and me since we both lived. He probably thinks it was Ares. But the truth is that war revealed who Niall really was and when it did, I didn’t want a life with him anymore.

The silence stretching between us as we move across the floor isn’t awkward, but more of a simple acknowledgement of what happened, that it didn’t have to, and that it never should have. Nothing a mortal could do or has ever done could make them deserve something so awful, no matter what the gods say.

A change of subject is necessary, and besides, August might be onto something. There is strength in numbers, and a small but determined group could help each other through the trials to the games, where we’ll be forced to part ways and fight for ourselves.

Other alliances must already be forming. “We need more on our team.”

“Would you recommend Niall?” August asks.

Because I know him, my instinct is to say yes. To protect him so he can go home. I know his Mum and Da. His sister. I thought I loved the boy at one time. I thought they would become my family one day, too.

But this is bigger than any residual loyalty I might feel. One misstep could lead to death. And even though he tried to apologize and has been kind since we came here, I know he would sacrifice me to get ahead. “No. I don’t recommend him.”

Reaching inwardly to make sure my answer doesn’t stretch from the bitterness I feel for him, I find nothing but truth and resolve. My gut is right about this, even if it feels wrong.

Niall is not a good ally. He never was.

Our steps fade with the last notes of the song. August watches me as we glide to a stop. He doesn’t release my hand or waist, and I don’t step away from him, either. I wonder how he earned my respect so fast.

August’s muscles tense under my fingertips as he raises his head and glances from one side of the temple to the other. We’re surrounded by divine and mortal alike, all of them watching us and whispering. I expected some to notice us, but not everyone. And not all at once.

“You succeeded,” I tell August under my breath.

His brows knit.

“You have their attention.”

Morrigan and Niall stare at us from the room’s edge. Niall’s countenance is as gloomy as a storm cloud. But Morrigan’s? There’s only approval on her face.

I pull away from August and thank him for offering the dance.

Whether he realizes it or not, he just did me a huge favor. Despite the sad state of my prosthesis, everyone has seen that I’m capable. I can dance. I can walk and run and climb the thousand marble steps to their temple. And tomorrow I’ll show them I can win their trials, and then their games, and walk away from all this to live out the rest of my mortal life in peace with my family.

Hermes’s winged sandals carry him into the space above our heads where he hovers, pushing waves of hair from his bronze face. “Forgive me, friends. In my exuberance to relay the rules of competition, I neglected to tell you that the winner of the games will receive from the divine, a prize worthy of a god.”

August and I glance at one another.

“The prize will be revealed before the first game begins, but it is something most mortals would kill for.”

Interesting choice of words…

He takes us all in. “A few more deals have been struck. Well done. Enjoy the rest of your evening.” His judgmental eyes rake over those of us still wearing white.

We still have plenty of time to find a champion. We can prove our worth at their trials and negotiate at their parties. I’m more hopeful now than I was walking into this ball. There was interest and sheer hunger in the eyes of the divine who paused their maneuvering to watch August and me dance.

There are thirty of us and many more gods who want to have a stake in all this – one way or another. None of us will go unchampioned for long. I won’t be crawling to Ares like he wants.