Page 209 of The Mortal Trials

“She seems nice,” August says with a chuckle.

“Her name’s Veronia and she’s championed by Devona.”

Koda nods. “One of the huntresses.”

“She noticed I didn’t bring my spear tonight,” I tell them.

“She’ll try to take it,” August warns.

“Let her.”

His eyes glint with mischief. “Where’d you hide it?”

I wink. “Not even my allies know.”

A horn is blown from within the temple as we’re called inside to the feast. August holds up the swath of sheer fabric to allow us under, dropping it before Niall and Veronia catch up. The lavender-clad contender tosses the panel aside with a frustrated growl.

A throaty laugh bubbles from my chest.

Was it petty of him? Yes.

Do I approve? Heartily.

In the center of the temple, two long tables run parallel to each other, laden with a glorious bounty. Steaming platters with cuts of venison, pork, mutton, goat, and boar. Mussels, oysters, squid, perfectly seared fish, and eel. Cooked vegetables with herbs sprinkled atop them. Freshly baked loaves of bread.

There are crocks full of fresh honey and butter. Plates of figs, olives, pomegranates, grapes, and apples. Bowls of horta – wild greens drizzled with olive oil – Cillian’s favorite, which he sometimes gets to enjoy when his master treats his protégés with Olympian fare to celebrate small victories during their jobs.

In my gut, I feel a stab of guilt because Abuela and Cillian have never eaten anything as grand as this. I wish I could send some of it back home to them. No doubt, plenty of it will be wasted.

The divine still interested in seeking a mortal to champion wait for us on the other side of the tables. Ares towers over all of them. He stands with Athena, whose sharp gray eyes waste no time flaying me in a dozen ways.

Of the Greeks present, only Demeter, Poseidon, Helios, and Apollo are missing. Hera watches Zeus laugh after finishing the ambrosia in his cup. Given the ruddiness in his cheeks, it’s not his first.

Morrigan is across the room with her husband, Lugh, and the lovely Brigid, goddess of protection and poetry. Her hair is long, curled, and as red as her forge’s glowing coals. Brigid meets my stare and nods, acknowledging me – her descendant. Her blood.

I nod back.

Slender Anansi laughs with Ogun, African god of war, metal work, and craftsmen. Ogun is enormously muscled but smiles genuinely as he scans the room. He’s not afraid to get his hands dirty, and he’ll want someone with callouses. I used to have plenty, but in the past several months, they’ve faded away.

Thoth and Isis are still here, as are deities from the Norse, Inuit, Mesopotamian, Chinese, and Japanese pantheons. Devona, Veronia’s champion, stands with the powerful Polynesian sea god Kanaloa and the fiery, stunning Pele.

Hermes greets the throng. “Mortal friends, prospective heroes, and survivors of the first trial, we welcome you. If you are unchampioned, please take your seats, saving a space between yourselves.”

The gods will be sitting between us?

“The champions and their mortals will dine here.” He gestures to a smaller table I hadn’t noticed beyond the two massive ones.

Koda pats my shoulder, and August’s. “I’ll see you after the meal.”

“Of course,” I tell him, wishing he wasn’t seated separately.

August leans down to whisper, “This should be interesting.”

I inwardly groan. “It certainly should be.”

I start toward the table, stilling when August gently fists the back of my dress to stop me. Shivers spread across my skin and I look back over my shoulder. “What are you doing?”

“What are you wearing?” He grins, eyes sparkling like the sea.