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“So, is anyone going to explain what the hell just happened?” I probe, swinging my gaze around the room. My father walks to the center of the room, commanding everyone’s attention. Mateo rolls his eyes, but surprisingly, he doesn’t take the opportunity to cajole him. Instead, he mutters his insults under his breath. Maximus stands against the opposite wall. Adrian is poised at the bottom of the stairs, as though debating whether or not to make a hasty retreat. Phil stays next to the door, anxiously rubbing his bicep, uncomfortable with this whole situation.
“Where would you like me to start?” My father asks cautiously.
“I guess you could start with filling me in on who exactly I just insulted?” I offer, chewing my lip nervously. Only now realizing that may not have been the best idea.
“You have nothing to worry about.” Mateo chuckles, drawing my attention over to him. “They’re just a bunch of tired old fools trying to flex their measly muscles in any way they can.”
“I hate to agree with him,” my father says pointedly, jerking his chin at Mateo. “But he’s right. Their entire scene today was a pathetic attempt to gain some power. They thought they could get you on their side, use your powers for their own means, that is until we showed up.”
I purse my lips, nodding at their sentiments, but it still does little to dissuade the lingering nervous feeling bubbling up in my stomach.
“The man you aptly name Vicky,” Mateo guffaws, clutching his stomach at the sudden burst of laughter. “Oh, the look on his face was priceless. I’ll have to remember to call him that from now on.” He gets sidetracked, wiping a stray tear from his eye.
“What this moron is trying to say,” my father interjects, ignoring the glare Mateo now narrows on him, his mood completely sobering. “Victor is the god of fire. But, while he is powerful, he’s no more powerful than any other with offensive energy.”
“The god of fire,” I think aloud, attempting to remember where I heard him referenced before. My jaw drops in shock, my eyes widening. “He’s Veronica’s father?” I ask, turning to Kyros since he would be the only one of them remotely likely to remember another student. His brows knit together in thought for a moment before he nods at me. His eyes light with recognition at my words.
“Like father, like daughter,” I bark out with an amused chuckle, shaking my head in delight.
“The other man is Agathon, he’s the god of choice,” my father continues. “He’s never been as volatile as the others, but lately, it’s as though he’s their puppet.”
“The blonde-haired woman is Anastasia, she’s the god of nature.” My father shakes his head before continuing. “She is normally the most level-headed of the bunch, but when the others get going, she usually won’t argue.”
“And Helene?” I ask, curious about the woman with the sleek black hair that I honestly couldn’t get an accurate reading on the entire time. Half of the time, her looks and words were chalked full of disdain. The other half was keen intrigue and cunning.
“Helene,” my father starts, gritting his teeth before continuing. “Is the god of sea, the most dangerous of them all. Even when the others speak, I have half a mind to think she actually planted the sentiment there. She’s a master manipulator and shouldn’t be trusted for a second.”
The others all nod in agreement, faces turning thoughtful at the mention of the god of the sea. The gears in my mind whirr, frantically trying to place where I remember her name.
“She’s Zina’s mother?” I ask incredulously. Unable to reconcile the sly, calculating woman with my impression of Zina so far. I try to think back if I’ve ever seen that gleam in her eyes when I’m abruptly pulled from my thoughts by the raised voices surrounding me.
“Who’s Zina?” my father asks, blinking in surprise.
“She’s one of my new friends here, along with Kali, Lucas and Domenic,” I say vaguely, still wrapped up in reconciling the image of my new friend with her mother.
“Domenic is a dead motherfucker,” Maximus growls ominously, cracking his knuckles in front of him, as though preparing to march off to kill him this very instant. Mateo nods, stomping over to stand by Maximus’s side. His arms cross over his chest and a gleeful smirk tilts his lips up at the thought. My brows furrow at the sudden outburst. Their conspiratorial glances lead me to believe there must have been some sort of conversation about my friend between the two men.
“No one’s killing Domenic,” I interject, standing from the couch and striding over to the two of them. Their heads are already bent together, voices lowered to whispers.
Mateo purses his lips, looking distraught at my declaration. “Not even a little?” he asks in a pleading tone, something I never thought I’d hear come from the burly god of war.
“How do you even kill someone a little?” I ask incredulously, my voice raising an octave in disbelief.
“We could maim him,” Mateo starts, listing off their available options on his fingers, as though I’m supposed to choose one.
“No one is killing, or harming anyone, especially not out of an unfounded jealousy,” I add the last part, seeing his eyes light up. They dim a moment later as I finish my sentence, and I could almost swear his lips tilt down into a pout, the movement so subtle, I can’t be entirely sure.
“Well then, this whole mated to my daughter situation may not be so bad if she can talk you down that easily.” My dad chuckles, shaking his head in disbelief. Mateo straightens at his words, his brow lowering into a scowl.
“Okay, okay.” I step between the two of them, raising my hands as though the gesture itself could keep them at bay. “Let’s get back to what’s important, like what are these trials all about?”
“Right.” My father clears his throat. I cautiously lower my arms and step away from them. Satisfied that they aren’t about to ring each other’s necks.
“The trials are an ancient ceremony, each demigod must complete in order to graduate from the academy.”
“I’m really getting sick of this place and its ancient ceremonies. Didn’t we see how well the last one turned out?” I grumble, crossing my arms over my chest. My father just gives me a pointed glance, reminding me that these are the terms. I huff out an indignant breath and motion for him to continue, not wanting to continue arguing over the semantics right now.
“You’ll train with them for now.” My father pauses and gestures to the four gods. “They have some of the most powerful gifts of the gods,” my father admits grudgingly and refuses to look in Mateo’s direction.
