I almost lost, thought Madoc weakly. Tension stretched between them, tight enough to snap.
“Yes,” said Geoxus. “Deimos already adores its new champion.”
“Just wait until you see what he can do with geoeia,” Petros said, his eyes gleaming. “The Kulans may surrender on the spot.” He laughed loud enough that Ignitus must have heard.
Uncertainty rippled through Madoc’s veins. Petros was taunting him, the way he had in the arena and at the Metaxas’ home, and just like before, Madoc couldn’t stop him. If he refuted Petros’s claim, he’d lose his position in the Honored Eight and the money that came with it. Petros would certainly punish Cassia for the humiliation Madoc caused. Even playing at modesty was a risk; to question his position here was to question Geoxus himself.
“I’m sure he’s very accomplished,” the Father God said with a smile. “He’d have to be, if he’s your son, Petros.”
Madoc gaped. He half expected to blink and find himself in adifferent conversation, one in which Petros was still revolted by his very being.
But Petros did not falter. His shoulders drew back, and his chin lifted in what looked suspiciously like pride.
“Your son?” Lucius barked out a dry laugh. “What game are you playing, Petros?”
“An honest one, I assure you,” Petros answered. “Had I given away Madoc’s lineage, it might have offered him an unfair advantage entering into the war. Young champions must prove their worth to the Father God, not rely on their bloodlines to get ahead, isn’t that right, Lucius?”
Beside Madoc, Lucius seethed, the blood rising in his cheeks. His glare slid to Madoc, accusing and disgusted.
“Great-Grandfather,” Lucius said between his teeth. “Petros has always been hungry for your attention, but even I don’t know what he hopes to accomplish through this claim.”
“Petros’s intentions favor Deimos,” Geoxus assured Lucius. “He only learned of his son’s existence recently, once he pledged to train with you. Madoc came to Petros right after—he had waited all these years until he could truly show his worth.” Geoxus laughed heartily, but Madoc could only muster a weak chuckle. “What a moment that must have been, eh, Madoc?”
Madoc coughed into his fist, his throat as dry as chalk. He could practically hear Petros laying out this story, feigning his delight at reconnecting with a son he’d never known existed.
“Indeed,” he managed. Any lingering doubt that he’d been chosenfor the Honored Eight without Petros’s interference disappeared. Madoc was only here now because his father had willed it.
Sorrow glimmered in Petros’s eyes, as false as his claims at fair play. “Had I known of him, I would have raised him as my own. He certainly wouldn’t have been fighting in the streets. It’s of great pride to me that you found him worthy to train, Lucius.”
Madoc heaved out a breath. Every word his father had said was a lie, from how they’d parted ways to Madoc’s supposed geoeia.
And Geoxus believed it all.
He couldn’t see that this was an act, meant to humiliate and destroy Madoc, and maybe Lucius by default.
“The fact that Madoc has Petros’s blood does not make him qualified to stand in the arena in a war,” Lucius said carefully.
Geoxus’s smile faded, replaced by a hard grimace. “The fact that you have my blood does not make you qualified to question my judgment, Lucius.” When the trainer bowed his head, Geoxus sighed. “I know potential when I see it. Madoc will do great things for Deimos.”
“Yes, Great-Grandfather,” said Lucius.
“Is there something you’d like to say, Madoc?” prompted Petros.
Anger blanketed Madoc’s fear, bringing a sharp, ice-cold clarity. Petros had taken Cassia. He’d lied to Geoxus. He’d pushed Madoc into a war he would certainly lose.
But just because Madoc was Undivine didn’t meant he didn’t have power.
Petros was risking his reputation, his status, hislife, just to punish Madoc, and that righteous hate thinned his reasoning. It made Petros weak, and as he had with Fentus, Madoc sensed his point of attack.Petros would do anything to impress Geoxus, but like so many Divine, he equated worth with energeia. He didn’t see his pigstock son as a threat, but he would soon enough.
Madoc was a gladiator now, and once he had the money to secure Cassia’s freedom, he could ruin Petros in the only way that would truly hurt him.
He would fail in front of Geoxus. Get the money he needed for Cassia, and then, before he had to risk his neck in a match to the death, lose, and shame his father publicly.
“No, Father,” he said, painting a smile on his face as false as Petros’s claims. “I’m just grateful for the chance to fight for my god.”
Eight
Ash
