“He is also divine—and a c-c-competitor.”
We veer toward an area of the city with garlands of dried flowers strung between the rooftops. The East Wind walks so fast I struggle to keep up. He does not trust, this god. How I wish I knew what expression creased his features. So much is spoken with the eyes.
“I’m not concerned with Arin. But Demi—” His shoulders creep upward toward his ears. “I warned you to stay inside the palace grounds,” he growls. “Do you have a death wish?”
The East Wind does not care for me, I remind myself. He only cares for what I can provide him. “It w-w-was just lunch,” I puff.
“You know nothing of Demi, or Arin. They are gods, bird. Everything they do is for their own gain. Who is to say you would not have been in some unfortunate accident that left you dead, the poison unfinished?”
Nowmyirritation begins to churn. “So you want m-m-me to avoid Demi. Fine. But have y-you considered the benefits of me s-spending time with her?”
Gods and goddesses leap from our path, granting the East Wind a wide berth. He seems to bite his tongue, but eventually, he relents. “I… did not consider that.”
Shocking.
“What do you suggest?” he asks.
The stitch in my side tunnels deeper. If I push my legs any faster, I’m convinced they will collapse. “Allow m-me the freedom to spendtime with Demi, and I can see if she has heard of anything regarding the w-weaknesses of the other competitors. Maybe about the t-t-trials themselves. You would n-not need to remain in the d-dark.” After all, what is one more thread in this web of lies?
Placing his hand at my lower back, the East Wind steers me through the worst of the crowding. The flutter in my stomach is as unexpected as it is unwelcome.
“So long as you continue your work on the poison,” Eurus says gruffly, “I suppose it wouldn’t be the worst thing for you to spend time with Demi, if you think you can get her to open up. It could prove useful to know her whereabouts, what she’s up to, her interests.” He nods to himself. “Just be careful, bird. You are mortal, easily broken. I would not wish you to come to harm.”
14
FAR WEST OF THE PALACE, in a stretch of open ground, stands the arena.
The immense stone structure is a feat of engineering. Its outer walls curve up and in, the center hollowed out, exposed to the elements. Below, a great field marks the heart of the stadium, tier after tier of stands rising gradually higher to surround its grassy center.
My pulse kicks hard, provoked by the bellow of a hundred thousand spectators. The roar is both declaration and promise. Today, blood will be spilled. It will soak the grassy field. It will splatter the walls and streak flesh.
Gripping the railing in front of me, I lean forward on the bench, scanning the hundred-plus competitors spaced equidistantly around the field’s perimeter. There is every color and shape of immortal: elegant denizens, hybrids of beast and man, some that look no older than children, though I assume they are as ancient as the rest. On the far side of the arena, the red-headed trio stands as a single unit, armed to the teeth. Another goddess with pin-straight, midnight hair and light brown skin shields herself behind a veil of deepest night, while a many-headed creature of serpentine appearance stretches their legs. I don’t see Eurus anywhere. We parted ways at the arena entrance without so much as aGood luck.
Four levels above me, shaded beneath a white tent, sits the Council of Gods. I recognize the lightning god, never far from hisbasket of lightning bolts. Two fair-haired deities, one male, one female, chatter idly with one another, the latter restringing a beautifully ornate bow.
Another god slouches in his cushioned chair, goblet in hand, peering down at the field through weighted eyelids. My brows creep upward in surprise. Of those present at the welcome banquet, he was the most disruptive, having consumed multiple flagons of wine before the second course had been served. I would never have guessed he was a member of the council.
Lastly, seated at the far end, almost like an afterthought, is a scrawny, disfigured man, his face etched in soot. Two of the dozen chairs are empty.
As someone settles onto the bench beside me, I glance over, then stare. “Demi?” I blink. “What are you doing here? Aren’t you competing?”
The goddess eases back with a snort, legs crossed, curves adorned in an elaborate violet gown more appropriate for a musical recital than bloodshed. “Gods, no. I know my strengths, though there’s nothing quite like watching the other deities have their entrails ripped out.”
This last comment she voices with great relish. I shift uncomfortably on the bench. “Surely you don’t mean that?”
Demi continues to monitor the field. “Why wouldn’t I? A little bloodshed never hurt anyone.”
What did I expect? We come from two separate realms, Demi and I. We may as well be fish and bird, stone and tree, sky and earth.
“I’ve already placed my bets,” she goes on, unaware of my internal turmoil. “My money’s on the Fates.”
“The who?”
She points to the red-headed trio. “Extremely vicious. They would be more than happy to hack up the competition. I do worry about some of the weaker participants though. Unfortunately, some will pay a steep price.”
Her ominous tone draws the hair along my arms to fine points. “What do you mean?”
“Only fifty contestants will make it to the next round. And I suspect a great many of those who don’t will die in the attempt.”
