“Whatever.”
I tried to not let the dismissal get to me. Yes, I did have a tendency to jump to conclusions, and mistrust people whohadn’t proved themselves to me first. Yes, I’d been wrong about Lucian; it only took a few days to observe just how much he cared about Kleos. I wasn’t wrong this time. A few days of observation had made it all the more apparent that Cas was up to something—something that by his own admission wasn’t good. He said I’d jump to conclusions when I heard, which meant his reasons were nefarious, to a degree. Maybe it wasn’t as cosmically bad as tampering with energy reserves for the king of Olympus, but I would bet my favorite dress that he wasn’t completely on our side. He would be far less cryptic if he were.
My instincts also told me that he wasn’t entirely an enemy, which was why I let it go. For now.
19
CAS
Isaw Silver dressed in the form-fitting black getup most protectors favored. I saw her in a pretty dress the day of her ceremony. My personal favorite was the outfit she walked out of her bathroom wearing Thursday morning, hands down.
“What?” she grumbled defensively, looking down at herself when I stared a bit too long.
She wore gray leggings and a long tunic, with a big knit scarf rolled around her throat. Casual, comfortable, she managed a degree of elegance that shouldn’t be permitted in what could be construed as socially acceptable nightwear.
“We’re going to travel most of the day, I might as well be comfy. Besides, we’re supposed to look like regular tourists.”
“I was not complaining,” I pointed out. “Sit. I made waffles.”
“You know no one’s actually making you cook breakfast for me every day,” she grumbled, nonetheless taking the seat in front of the plate I set up on her breakfast bar.
“I’m doing myself a favor. You’re considerably easier to deal with when you’re well fed and caffeinated. Drink.”
She did as she was told. After a sip, she noted, “Blood again.”
“Ichor,” I corrected.
“That’s only slightly less creepy.” She drank it all the same.
In truth, I was glad she made no real attempt to keep me out. I’d woken up far earlier than planned which meant that I had to fill my time, and I was getting used to my little routine. I got up, went for a jog, a shower, annoyed Silver. Headed to work, annoyed Silver some more. Dinner out, either at my chatty new neighbor’s, or with Silver’s circle of friends in order to annoy her some more. Then I tried to fall asleep, and ended up tossing a ball to the snake who seemed to enjoy playing catch until it was time to repeat the whole process.
I was ideally placed to fulfil my directives, and if I had to admit it to myself, I was having a decent enough time here. Certainly better than on Olympus, surrounded by foes, traps and threats.
I only had one friend in the immortal land of the gods, and it was for her sake that I couldn’t show my hand yet.
The fates had been clear. So long as I remained here, there would come a time when I’d be able to act. I had to trust that the three meddlers knew what they were talking about, though I couldn’t see how the balance of power could change in Olympus in mere years. Everything had been the same for the hundred and twenty-odd years where it had been my home. What was going to happen in Highvale that might affect that? And how were we supposed to enter a completely different age soon, in just weeks, months?
I had many questions that only time had the answer to. Meanwhile, my job was to remain and ensure one small, irrelevant woman remained alive.
Silver ate in silence, before clearing her throat. "I have something for you.”
I watched her hop off the stool and return with a flat white box, intrigued and somehow taken aback.
My mind tried to remember the last time I was given a present. I could only remember one.
People across the mortal worlds no longer worshipped the gods as they used to—not even in places like Highvale. Our temples were taken care of, priestesses ensured they were clean and filled with songs, love, and energy in order to avoid pissing off immortal tossers who had historically destroyed entire civilizations after being slightly neglected. They left flowers, oats, the occasional bloody steak at our altars, but not presents.
I could remember a time when lavish offerings were sacrificed to the gods; but they’d worshipped another version of me. My own memories didn’t stretch that far back.
I was born a hundred and fifty years ago. My family had been poor, and rendered poorer yet by the war that took my father while I was a child and my brother, an infant. Then, a virulent plague started to take out mortals by the dozens.
When I was the only one spared, my mother coughed out a confession that changed everything. The reason I wasn’t sick, the reason I was broad, strong, and faster than anyone else, was because I wasn’t my father’s son. She’d been taken by Zeus. Our world wasn’t protected like Earth, and the eternal prick still occasionally came down to take comely mortals when he could get away with it—generally when his wife was busy elsewhere.
I wanted nothing from the man who’d raped my mother. I hadn’t entered the godly games held in his name for glory or recognition. I just needed the cash prize in order to pay for the medicine my family needed.
I visited the altar of the Fates before entering the competition, like all participants. The others, they blessed with a single nod, a smile if they were lucky, but when I approached, they stared at each other.
“Today will bring you greatness,” one said.
