He cast a harried glance toward a girl farther down the table. She had fiery red hair that contrasted poorly with her deep crimson gown and a gap in her teeth that was even more obvious when she laughed.
“But Cora and I trained our whole lives together,” he continued. “We were supposed to be partners.”
“Like Dante and Olympia.” I glanced over to where they’d just burst into laughter.
Milo nodded. “Yeah, like them.”
I frowned. Had my getting paired with someone far above me somehow become a chain reaction, throwing everyone off the partner they were supposed to be paired with? If so, why? And was it even my fault?
“I’m sorry,” I said again, even though I wasn’t sure what I was apologizing for.
“Nothing to be sorry about,” Milo replied cheerfully as if he could sense my confusion. “Now that I’m not training for the Trials for the first time in my life, I can finally focus on the things I really care about.”
“Like what?”
“Books.”
I snorted. “Books?”
Milo nodded fervently.
“I love reading,” he said eagerly. “The more outlandish the tale, the more I adore it. I find that there’s always a kernel of truth in even the most ridiculous of them. Valin the Victorious, Prima’s piety and heroism, the legendary beasts of the era before this, the—”
“Stories,” I interrupted.
“Legends,” he corrected, his eyes sparkling with enthusiasm.
I cocked my head to the side. This boy was a dreamer. That was a rarity in Sanctuary, even among the privileged First Ringers. I was torn between wanting to shatter the illusion andpull him back to reality and wanting to preserve his innocent hopefulness like one does a bird with a broken wing.
“What sort of legends?” I asked, a brow raised, choosing to indulge him this once.
His entire face brightened and he began.
“There are stories traced down through generations that mention a time when magic ran rampant in Sanctuary, when our people could perform incredible feats of strength and skill, when the extraordinary was commonplace. Tales of blinding lights shooting from palms, objects with a mind of their own, people who flew. There’s even mention of a time when the Geist themselves used to walk among us.”
“That’s ridiculous.” I waved a hand in dismissal, though I had to admit, I was intrigued. Even if they were just stories.
“Perhaps,” Milo replied with an offhanded shrug. “Most of the stories I’ve read have all come from our House Journal. And Jamin always was the more eccentric of the heroes. Besides, the preservation of our library falls woefully short of Harlowe’s.”
“If the Geistwereever here among us, why did they leave?” It seemed the most preposterous of all and yet, I couldn’t ignore the thought of it. “Where did they go?”
Milo looked around, then leaned in so only I could hear him.
“Supposedly, they didn’t leave. Not entirely. That’s why we pray to them now. It’s believed they still exist but on a higher plane. The story goes that they came to live among us but were offended by our violence and vulgarity, so they removed themselves from our world and went to live in another. But they loved us too much to let go entirely, at least some of them did, so they exist in another sphere, somewhere above this one, watching us where we can’t see them.”
I stared at him. Did my face betray how skeptical I felt?
“They call it Pavos,” he continued, a proud smile on his lips. “It means City of Peace in the old language.”
“Pavos,” I repeated, feeling the strangeness of the word on my tongue.
Milo’s lips spread into a wide smile, and he chuckled. “I know. Ludicrous.”
I smiled back and opened my mouth to speak, to ask more about Pavos and how he knew so much about the Geist, but was interrupted by a familiar, booming voice.
“Attention everyone.” We all looked up at Cosmo. He stood at his place at the head of the table, his champagne flute in one hand and a fork in the other, which he used to gently tap against the glass. Once all eyes were on him, he set the utensil down. “A toast to my incredible grandson and his formidable partner. May their success in the Trials continue, may they make their ancestors proud in their pursuits, and, gods-willing, may it not be long before we hear the pitter-patter of little candidates’ feet among these halls as my grandson strengthens our lineage with his successful bloodline.”
My jaw dropped.
