Page 72 of The Mortal Trials

“What if the sand won’t let me?”

“It didn’t last night. And if the sand starts blocking you, we can assume it’ll block Torsten and keep you safe. I don’t want you to stay here alone. There’s literally nothing here for you. Besides…” He pauses and sticks his hands into the pockets of his shorts. “I don’t mind the company.”

“Aww, August, are you lonely?” I tease.

He beams a smile. “My house back home is… What’s a good word for it? Lively,” he decides. “It’s definitely lively.”

“Loud,” I add, remembering that at one time, Abuela’s was filled with our shrieks and laughter and yelling when our tempers got the best of us.

August takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, his smile deflating. “Callalie, if these are my last days, I’d rather spend them with someone whose company I enjoy rather than being alone.”

“You’re sure?”

August Aymes gathers the small pile of salvaged clothes into his arms. “Don’t forget your feather.”

And just like that, I move in with him.

In the days that follow, he fusses over me while I heal. The evening before the second trial, we visit our palaestra to learn what it has to offer. A large stone building with a grass courtyard and a myriad of weapons lining the inner walls. August learns their boundary. We can take the weapons as far as the edge of the grass, where an invisible barrier blocks their removal.

August and I stretch and run and playfully spar, and when we are finished, someone else arrives. We meet the formidable Ulani and Vailea, a thirty-something husband and wife pair. I remember their faces from yesterday’s trial.

Ulani invites August into a grassy area to wrestle.

“I don’t really know how,” Aymes replies, shooting me a grin. “But I’ll do my best.” He winks at me. “Or my worst.”

I can’t help but smile.

Ulani chuckles, promising to go easy on him. Then his dark brows furrow at the sight of my eyes and throat. “Who did that?” he asks, looking at August.

“Not him,” I quickly assure him.

Vailea shoos her husband away, telling him that she and I need time to talk.

He reluctantly obeys his wife.

Patterned tattoos flow across his chest and stretch over his shoulders. His dark hair is twisted at the crown of his head. The aqua lavalava tied at his waist is the shade of a warm, shallow sea.

Ulani gives August some pre-match guidance.

As Vailea’s stare slips to my mottled neck, I tell her who caused the bruises and offer a piece of advice. “Torsten tried to steal my spear last night. If you got weapons from the salt flat, make sure they’re well-hidden.”

Her eyes turn stormy. “I hope you made him pay for the attempt.”

“I did. Before August tossed him into the ocean.”

Her brows raise as she watches the men spar. “Did he escape it?”

“Sadly, yes.”

She turns to me. “You did well in the first trial.”

“Last place doesn’t earn a golden laurel.”

“Winning is subjective. You didn’t wear the crown, but mortals in all the realms saw you behave like a hero. None of us would have gotten through if you hadn’t warned us,” she replies.

Her pale dress ties at her nape, revealing tattoos that flow over toned arms. Some of the inked patterns connect across her shoulders and flare down her back. While I smell like August’s bergamot soap and sweat, her glowing bronze skin smells like coconut and mango. She’s beautiful. With high cheek bones, warm brown eyes, and full lips that seem to always hold the barest hint of a smile, she’s truly stunning.

“This is Ulani’s way of returning the favor. Not many fight with only their bodies in war these days, but I have a feeling the skill will be of use, if not in the trials, then in the games.”