Page 39 of The Mortal Trials

He can’t quit his apprenticeship, but maybe he can convince her to go to Morrigan’s realm when he’s away at work.

I follow him into the moonlight and down the still-open sand path. He walks the same way he did when he was little. Head down, hands in his pockets, shoulders low. As we walk to the shore, he asks me to tell him every detail of what’s happened since I left the house.

I start at the beginning, describing how Niall and I went to Morrigan’s realm, what she said on that clifftop, and how we were sent to Olympus. Then about Daedalus and Aisling and Ceann Ársa – The Ancient One – carrying us to an island that didn’t even exist until it suddenly did.

He marvels at Morrigan’s great crow more than anything else. “You rode on its back?”

With a smile, I tell him how it felt to have the wind rippling over you, and how I flung out my arms and opened my heart to the sky. Just once.

Snickering, I tell him how Niall shrieked that we were going to die if I didn’t hold on.

As we skirt the island, Cillian informs me that he searched every oikos until he came to mine, and revealed that each one has a painting unique to its intended occupant. He cried when he saw the one meant for me. Sat at the foot of my bed and wept at its duplicity.

“I know why you covered it, but you should consider taking the blanket down,” he rasps. I open my mouth to tell him that’s the last thing I’ll do when he adds, “Let his cruelty fuel you. Win their trials, win their games, and do it in her name. Don’t do it to spite him. Win to elevate her.”

The fight leaves me and my shoulders sink. I try to smile. Revenge was the only thing I’d been thinking of. Not Carina. She should have been my focus all along.

Cillian’s expression is vulnerable in the moonlight as he regards the stars innocently flickering above us like the flames of a thousand oil lamps. Carina used to take us outside at night. We’d spread a blanket and she’d tell us the stories of the skies – some she learned, others she invented.

I squeeze his arms. “Cillian, if I don’t make it, I want you to know how much I love you and Abuela. I’ll try my best for you.”

He pulls me in for a hug, settling his chin on my head. “I love you, too. I pray your best is enough.”

Moonlight rolls and tumbles in time with the rushing, receding tide. He had no business traversing these waters. And just like he’s praying for me to make it back home, I pray he’ll make it safely back to Olympus. “Don’t come back here, Cill. It’s not safe.”

Tender defiance blazes in his eyes. “I had to talk to you before the games begin.”

“They already have.” I gesture to my white dress that seems to glow under the moon. It’s not the uniform Morrigan gave us to wear onto a battlefield for her, but it marks me, nonetheless.

This war began the moment The Ancient One landed on this island and my feet struck its new soil. Every trial will be a battle. Every victory will see a fellow mortal conquered. The winner will be no better than the gods who toy with our short, fragile lives.

A figure appears from farther down the beach. Their white attire marks them as a contender. We wait as their stride brings them closer. Music still pours from the temple.

“That’s August Aymes! I saw he was here, too,” Cillian marvels, his face alight.

I nod. “His oikos is next to mine. We’re allies.” For now.

He turns to look at me. “You don’t sound convinced. Do you not trust him?”

Sighing, I answer, “It’s too early to know who to trust, but even if we work together and wind up at the end of the games, there can only be one winner.”

My brother hums noncommittally. “What’s he like?”

“He’s smart. Strong. A good dancer.” He’s kind.

“And Niall?” His tone sharpens on the name like a blade raked over a whetstone. “Has he begged to be your ally, too?”

“He’s not my ally.” I stare out over the water. “Morrigan championed him.”

“Him?” His tone is incredulous. After I again explain the rules of the game, Cillian is speechless for a long moment. “Morrigan chose Niall?”

“Yep.”

“Over you?” he clarifies, brows raised.

I sigh. “Yes.”

“So, you need to find a champion by the end of the final trial, or…”