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“I don’t know.” Her heart broke as his face dropped. “I do know that I will help you, though. Maybe Vesper planned for us to meet during your trial. Even a god isn’t immune to the tampering of a mortal life.”
He gave her a sad smile. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“So, that kiss…” a smirk spread across Aiden's face.
Tempest gave him a playful shove and rolled her eyes. “Don’t even start. Do you have any idea when your mortal self will be back?”
Aiden shook his head and shrugged.
“Do you remember anything about your mortal life?”
“I remember all of it.”
Tempest started walking towards the gate. “Let’s get you back to your party, then, before you’re missed and I get blamed for it. Maybe you can clear things up a bit; you know, help make everyone in your palace a bit less hostile towards me. I’ll come up with an excuse for your mortal side, since he won’t remember any of it.”
Aiden followed closely behind. “This is weird.”
She laughed. “You’re telling me.”
The two parted ways as soon as they walked through the gate, Aiden making his way back to his seat and Tempest back to a very drunk-looking Sylvia.
“How much did you drink?” Tempest asked her now-hiccupping friend.
“Just this one, I swear.” Sylvia repeated the last word a few times, emphasizing different words with each pass.
Tempest sat at the table and snatched the half-empty glass from Sylvia’s hand. She focused on it and found it glowed a sickeningly green hue. Tempest hadn’t expected her sight to work, but occasionally the residual intent of someone would be left on an item, and Tempest could use that to help judge a soul. The residue matched the soul it came from, and she was very familiar with this one.
She quickly glanced through the crowd and easily found Isabella, the representative of Aloysius, the god of war, sitting at a table with other contestants. If she didn’t have a similar green hue around her soul, she would still have been one of Tempest’s suspects. She was also the only one who looked even slightly sober in the group.
Sylvia tried to stand and stumbled. Tempest caught her, stopping her from smacking her chin in the corner of the table, and helped her back to her feet.
Deciding to wait until later to confront Isabella, she helped Sylvia back to her room. If the worst of it was everyone getting drunk, then so be it. But something irritated Tempest. Isabella seemed awfully comfortable with everyone else being tipsy around her. Something just didn’t add up right.
She laid Sylvia on her bed and pulled the covers over her before heading back to her own room. Though the sun was still high, Tempest was exhausted. Her injury was still healing, she’d written an extensive essay as part of Dei Electi, survived snubs from snobs, and discovered the god of the dead in the midst of his mortal trial. The day had already drained her completely. She slipped under her covers and quickly fell asleep.
She twisted and turned, at once both awake and asleep. In her dream, Aiden was attempting to explain his reasons for playing a mortal life, and Tempest was sitting across from him with a puzzled look and a glass of wine. They were on a patio, and above them, the stars were bright.
“Tempest, wake up. We’ve got a big day ahead of us.”
Sylvia’s voice pulled Tempest out of the dream. She had been so wrapped up in it that she hadn’t even noticed that her room was no longer empty.
Tempest found Sylvia sitting on the floor in her room, a tray of fruits and cheeses in front of her. “What's going on?”
“Isabella attacked one of the contestants last night. She’s been put in the dungeons until she can be punished.”
The covers flew off of Tempest as she suddenly sat up. “What?! Who?”
“The god of luck’s representative, Aurora. That’s not even the craziest part. The sun never set last night, either. It’s sitting at midday.”
Tempest saw beads of sweat on Sylvia’s face and realized it was several degrees hotter than it usually would be. If the sun never set, the temperature would never drop and reset for the day.
Sylvia picked the tray up, set it on the nightstand, and then sat on the edge of the bed. “There are rumors that it’s the goddess in mourning for the death of her representative,” she whispered, as if afraid someone would overhear her.
Tempest doubted it was done in mourning for the hapless woman. She guessed that it was instead a punishment for her death. A punishment, and a warning, for Tempest.
“You mentioned Isabella is in the dungeon. How did she attack Aurora?”
