I look down at myself. I’m a mess. But Griffin is worse.
“What’s this?” Mother’s shrill question comes from where she’s still occupying the high ground with her terrifying beast.
The God of War stalks forward, and I see her eyes focus on Ares, get stuck, and then sharpen. She recognizes Thanos. Bigger. Scarier. More powerful. But still Thanos.
Quick comprehension has never been a problem for Mother. Driving the mare with her mind, she commands the creature to get down low on its front legs and then jumps on top of the horse with the help of her uninjured arm. The mare rises, and with only a thought, Mother and the monster race away from the meadow so fast they become a dark streak in the air. I blink, and she’s gone.
I missed my chance.
Persephone slides me a sidelong glance, one perfect eyebrow raised, questioning—and patently judging.
Less subtle, Ares whirls on me. “What was that? Did I teach younothing? You froze!”
No, I think I chose. But I keep making the wrong choice.
“What happened to the woman whosurvives!” Ares bellows, livid.
“She survived,” Griffin snaps, dragging himself toward me. At this point, I’m pretty sure it’s sheer stubbornness keeping him upright.
“Not by much,” Ares fumes. “And no thanks to herself.”
It’s true, all true, but right now, my only concern is Griffin.
Hurrying to him, I take some of his weight against my side and lead him to Persephone. She runs a critical eye over us both but then takes out her knife and splits Griffin’s tunic up the middle, baring first his bloody midriff and then pushing his shirt off entirely. The gash looks deep, but it’s not very wide. Even Griffin can’t survive on determination alone, so the blade must not have hit anything too vital. There’s a deep-purple bruise spreading up his side from where the table struck his ribs. I don’t bother cataloging cuts and burns. They’re everywhere.
“This is deep. And there are two cracked ribs. You might want to sit,” Persephone tells him.
“Then you’d have to sit, too,” Griffin says.
She looks up from his injuries, frowning. “So?”
“A Goddess shouldn’t kneel in front of a human,” he replies stiffly.
She stares at him, unblinking. “Are you making the rules now? Should I inform Zeus?”
Griffin’s cheeks color, the splash of heat painfully obvious in his otherwise bloodless face.
“Sit,” Persephone orders, “or I’ll make Ares hold you down.”
Ares scoffs. “You won’tmakeAres do anything.”
“You think I can’t?” Frost laces her magic-heavy words.
My stomach clenches, anxiety gripping it like a fist. It turns me inside out to see them fight.
Ares squares his shoulders, always ready for a confrontation. His eyes race with Olympian power and light. “You, your irritating husband, and that fleabag Cerberus all together might ha—”
“Stop arguing.” I cut through their pointless taunting, my voice like a barbed knife. “Griffin, sit.”
Ares turns to me, crossing his arms. “Oh, there you are. I thought you’d left Thalyria. Maybe went on holiday. Or took a nap.”
My eyes narrow. “Is this a game to you? You’re the God of War. Why are you even helping people who are trying to bring peace?”
Ares smiles. It’s genuine, heart-stopping, and completely frightening. “Peace might be on the horizon, but in the meantime, you’re giving me a damn good fight.” His smile fades into an expression of pure disgust. “Except for today. Today was pitiful.”
I nod. I can only agree.
“Besides, there are always Attica and Atlantis for more wars. Thalyria has seen enough. The magic is too strong here to continue like this. Someone’s bound to destroy the world.”
