“Since you were chosen by a goddess, I see no reason to drag this out,” she says, fire dancing along her fingertips again. “And since neither of you seem inclined to partake in a meal, we can skip the pleasantries.”
Riven folds his arms. “Meaning…?”
“Meaning,” she says, arching a brow, “that you didn’t come here for food or hospitality. You came seeking answers. And you’ll find them by speaking with spirits from the Underworld. After all, the dead know far more than the living. And unlike the living, they have no reason to lie.”
The words send an icy prickle down my spine.
Riven looks unfazed.
Of course, he does. Since he was already aware of the moly and what it would do, he likely already figured out what the riddle meant, too. And then proceeded tonot tell me.
I turn back to Circe, unable to keep looking at Riven without blasting a gust of wind at him to knock his smug self onto the sand.
“Will you help us?” I ask the sorceress, keeping my voice steady through the anger brewing inside me.
“I have no interest in angering the star goddess. So yes, I will help you,” she says, and then she goes on to list the ingredients we’ll need—the majority of which we already have.
They’re the ones the cloaked girl gave us, which I proceed to explain to Circe.
“The only thing we don’t have is the blood,” I finish. “She didn’t give us anything to sacrifice.”
Which is likely a good thing, since there’s basically a one hundred percent chance that I would have given in to the hunger and feasted on the animal before we arrived at the island.
“Not to worry,” Circe says, her golden eyes gleaming in the firelight. “There are plenty of pigs here for the sacrifice. Now, wehave no time to waste. Follow me, and we’ll head to the location where we’ll conduct the ritual.”
