Ares, Aphrodite, Artemis, and Hades took the lead, walking up a narrow spiraling stone stairwell built into the rock, and we all followed behind them.
Augustus looked back over his shoulder at me as he walked up the stairs. Poco hung off his back eating his hair.
His eyes seemed sharper,brighterthan usual.
Kharon walked behind me, his hand lingering on my lower back, pushing me forward. His fingers drifted up my spine and traced across the blue diamond necklace.Did he slip it on in the dining hall, or did he visit me in the middle of the night?
I wanted to ask, but nerves were twisting my stomach, and the tension between the three of us was mounting.
We emerged from the narrow staircase into the stadium—gray clouds hung low, a stiff breeze whipped back and forth eight colorful Olympian House flags, each section was full of a few dozen House members in matching regalia.
Augustus and Kharon moved so they flanked me, each with a hand resting on my lower back. It was the lightest of touches, but I struggled to focus on anything else.
Yesterday, they’d crawled to me, begging.
Their heady scents—lightning and rain—filled my nose.
I discreetly turned my head to the side and breathed deeply as I scanned the crowd, spotting the lion of the House of Zeus.
Amongst the Houses were pockets of different creatures Ihadn’t noticed my first time here. I recognized a packed section full of sirens, and Erebus sat with dozens of men in similar cloaks. There were other creatures I didn’t recognize.
In the center of it all, the arena sand was empty.
The contestants hadn’t arrived yet.
“Amor fati, memento mori …” Spartan voices trailed off as every head turned to stare at our group.
The black silk of my toga blew against my legs and my wedding ring felt like a brand on my finger.
The Chthonic leaders turned back to look at us, their expressions cold and regal. Power strummed tangibly around them in glittering mist and fog.
Ares nodded, a ruby halo shining creepily around his black irises.
Stomp.
Clap.
Stomp.
The stadium vibrated beneath my feet as the Olympians slammed their feet against stone with anticipation.
Hades had coached me on this moment.
The flag ceremony at the initiation massacre was apparently a centuries-old tradition. It was a great Spartan honor.
Augustus moved from where he stood beside me and walked forward, tailored black suit stretching across his wide back as he raised the charging Minotaur flag of the House of Ares.
Wordlessly the crowd watched, all eyes focused on him.
Augustus’s long legs flew as he ran up the steps, two at a time—he held the House of Ares flag proudly above his head.
The stadium stomped faster.
Kharon stepped forward next.
With a grim expression, Kharon raised the rabid horse flag of the House of Artemis, his face hardening into sharp angles.
As he walked past Artemis, mother and son made eye contact.She’d secretly disowned him, but publicly, he was still the heir of the House. After all, there weren’t any other children left.
