Page 144 of The Mortal Trials

I imagine taking the spear and shoving it into his mouth, then pushing it out the back of his skull. It wouldn’t kill him, but it would certainly piss him off, and that alone might be worth it.

If we don’t survive this, and if none of the divine is brave enough to champion us, I might try it before we’re made to “forfeit.” At least my last moment would be spent on something meaningful.

At some point after we left the feast last night, the gods must have given the laurel to Torsten. It gleams golden on his brow, a contrast to his new silver-plated leathers.

Hermes gestures to the Norseman. “I’ll take the laurel.”

Torsten peels it from his head and smirks. “For now.”

“If the pair of them survive, why shouldn’t they be allowed to participate in the games? What would it hurt?” Morrigan asks Ares.

He crosses his arms and sharply replies, “A mortal without a champion would die.”

“Then the rule about forfeiture serves no purpose beyond your own.” Her words are barbed. Venomous. And they strike true. “If contestants will be advantaged with a champion, the games will naturally sort this all out.”

Ares smiles and shakes his head. “You insisted on being here this morning just to make a final plea on their behalf? Don’t you have more important matters to worry about?”

Morrigan’s midnight eyes meet mine. “There is a rumor spreading that you threatened any god who would champion them. If that’s the case, your behavior isn’t just dishonorable, Ares, it’s pathetic.”

Ares prowls close to her, towering over the goddess, who doesn’t shrink at all.

His eyes flash to August and me. “I’ll tell you what. If they win the trial today. If they enter the arena first, and together, I’ll waive the forfeiture rule.”

Morrigan appears satisfied. “Very well.”

It’s something. And it’s all she can give us. What happens now will be our doing, or our undoing. Her dark stare cuts to me before she disappears in a cloud of night. A reminder and a promise.

Be ruthless without hesitation.

And… even if I fall, Abuela and Cillian will be protected.

Hermes gestures to the portal. “Let the final trial begin.”

We push toward the opalescent, glimmering gold. August and I clasp hands as we take the stairs.

My heart thunders. My head tries to tell me this can’t really be happening. The moment is surreal. But my spear is warm in my hand, three feathers brush my shoulders, and there’s a gorgeous, incredible ally at my side, holding a broadsword and ready to fight alongside me like he promised.

Ulani and Vailea allow us to go in front of them.

We enter the gold and step into the last place I expect.

It’s arid and hot. The sun burns directly overhead, and standing sentinel beside the dirt road my feet know by heart, are saguaro cacti. “You wanted to see them, right?” I beam.

August’s mouth falls open at the sight. “They’re beautiful.”

“That’s my grandmother’s house.” I point to the modest adobe home in the distance. My excitement fades. I hoped to share this with him at some point, but I don’t know why we’re here in this trial.

We jog past acacias, yucca, and agave. Prickly pear in bloom. “Where’s everyone else?” August wonders, his steps lagging as I tug him along.

“I don’t know.” The courtyard gate is latched. I push it open and drag August into the yard.

I smell… pozole. Abuela’s mouthwatering hominy soup. I smell the pork shoulder and red chiles.

My grandmother’s bright door is open. Sunlight spills on the terracotta tile, warmly welcoming me home.

I take two steps into the house and gasp, clutching my heart. Because I hear her. “Carina!”

This makes no sense, but I can’t help it. I run toward the kitchen.