Page 206 of The Mortal Trials

“Daedalus?” I greet, sitting up straighter.

“I saw what happened to that relic during the trial.” He closes the door behind him. “And thought you could use my assistance.”

Tears burn my eyes. “I definitely can, but I’m not sure it’s allowed.”

Morrigan commissioned him. She granted his favor in exchange for his help. Would this count as her ‘assisting’ a mortal she doesn’t and can’t champion? Would Niall be killed for this?

“I spoke plainly to Ares in Olympus to be sure my coming here wouldn’t harm you, the goddess, her mortal, or anyone else, in any way. I explained that Morrigan commissioned me, and our bargain was sealed before the trials commenced and the rules set. Therefore, I argued that my craft and visit should not be prohibited.”

“And he agreed with you?” I ask skeptically.

“In a manner of speaking,” he hedges, taking in the details of my room instead of meeting my eyes.

“What do you mean?”

He sighs. “Ares granted me passage to the island, provided I wholly release Morrigan from the deal we made.”

My heart floods. “But it would have helped your entire bloodline.”

“I wouldn’t have been permitted to visit you if I didn’t dissolve it, which wouldn’t have helped you in the least,” he volleys.

“But I don’t matter,” I tell him.

He levels me with a glare as he clears off my only chair and drags it over beside the bed where I sit. “You certainly do matter, and you don’t deserve any of this,” he argues. “I would rather my descendants respect me for upholding my values rather than giving them up. Without principles, what good are we?”

He unzips the leather bag and takes out a beautifully crafted prosthetic leg, fashioned from varying metals – gold, silver, bronze, steel – that seamlessly bend and blend into a work of art that’s as cold and fierce as a fine piece of armor. “I hope you like it. I neglected to ask what material you preferred, so I took certain creative liberties.”

Emotion overwhelms me. “It’s incredible. Beautiful.”

Daedalus nods, studying the artful piece on my lap before glaring at the one I damaged in the trial. “It won’t fail you like that one did today. I’ll stake my reputation on it. Now, let’s try it on in case adjustments need to be made.”

From the bag, he produces a new sheath. It’s soft under my fingertips. “This will breathe with your skin, and it’s threaded through with copper. It has a locking pin like your last one. I figured you’d be comfortable with that mechanism.”

“Of course.” I’m so grateful, my heart feels like it might burst. I pull the sheath on. It’s light and comfortable. Strong, too.

The limb he crafted fits my body perfectly. The length is right, and my thigh securely and comfortably settles into the socket.

I’m in awe.

It bends when I want it to, and is so fluid and natural when I move, I literally have no words but “How?”

How did he make something so perfect in so little time?

He gives a demure smile. “I found a profession at which I am gifted, and I’m even more fortunate that it is one with which I can help others. That, and I’m distantly descended from a demi-god and possess a fraction of his power.” He chuckles at my shocked expression. “I use it to bond my clients’ bodies with the prosthetics I craft for them, so the limb feels more natural.” He points to my thigh. “Are you plagued with phantom pains?”

“Rarely, but it does happen.”

He nods. “Have you tried using mirrors?”

“Yeah, I don’t like mirrors, Daedalus.”

He doesn’t push, seeing my discomfort and honoring it instead.

“I didn’t realize any mortals had abilities in this age,” I admit, changing the subject. Everyone’s heard stories of the demi-gods. They, like the heroes of old, sparked the deities’ jealousy. Any offspring between divine and mortal, anyone with power or great skill, was hunted by the rest and eliminated.

But Daedalus isn’t his powerful ancestor. “The gods don’t bother themselves with the diluted few. To them, it’s a speck of the past and nothing more. Wholly unworthy of godly attention.”

To a god, the drop of divinity Daedalus possesses may be nothing. Theirs is oceans deep. But to a mortal – to me – it’s everything.