Page 217 of The Mortal Trials

Breathing becomes easier.

The stars glitter overhead like a coded message I haven’t deciphered.

Carina used to spend hours tracking them across the sky. She said their movements mirrored ours.

I search for one that’s battered and bruised but still burning.

14

August is practically vibrating with fury when he comes to stand in front of me. “What can I do?”

I shake my head. And because of the stress of the situation, I start to cry. I’ve fought many people in battle. Women and men of all ages and from all bloodlines. All of them met me with honor.

Torsten had none. He was a coward. Pretending to leave the party to plot and strategize with the championed, only to come here and ransack my house and attack me when he didn’t find what he wanted.

What did he tell the other contestants who’d followed him from the temple? Did they know he was coming here to steal the spear? Did Niall?

“Thank you,” I blubber, standing up straight and gingerly retreating into my ruined home.

August steps over everything littering the floor and gathers me against his chest. He rests his chin on my head.

“I almost wish the sand locked us in again and kept everyone else out like the first night,” I whisper. But then Cillian and Daedalus couldn’t have visited me.

Music still cascades from the hilltop where the party continues. A waterfall of pretty notes.

“What did he do?” he softly asks, holding me a little tighter.

My voice is weak. “He wanted the spear. He tore my house apart searching for it. When he couldn’t find it, he waited for me to come home.”

August’s back tenses under my hands. “You’re not staying here tonight.”

The floor is littered with glass shards, strewn and torn clothing, the splintered pieces of my last remaining chair, the broken bed and shredded-to-ribbons mattress. A pool of Torsten’s blood glistens wet on the tile. Its coppery tang fills the air. My stomach turns.

I stare at the exposed mosaic of Carina and me and nod. “Okay.”

Would she have deemed this a victory or a defeat? Because as August brings me out of my destroyed home, defeat is all I feel.

“Do you want to bring the spear?” he pauses to ask outside.

“No.” I’ll retrieve it before our next trial, when I’ll inevitably need it. Until then, it’s safe.

Besides, if Torsten, his little followers, or the gods who champion them are somehow still watching us, they’ll learn where it’s hidden, and that spot might come in handy again later. It’s apparently a good one.

I glance over at Niall’s house as we start down the sandy path.

August’s gaze follows mine. “Did he know?”

“I’m not sure.”

“You were right about him if he did,” he tells me.

“I’m right about him either way.” Even if I wish I wasn’t.

The wind plasters the back of my blood-soaked dress against my skin as we walk to August’s oikos. His door is wide open, showing how he’d come running the moment he knew I was in trouble.

It’s warm inside, well-lit, and… oddly tidy. August immediately goes to the bathing room basin to wash his hands. They and his forearms are stained with Torsten’s blood. So are his shirt and slacks.

I’d erroneously assumed all guys were like my brother, Cillian, who is a pig. His room always looks like Torsten’s been searching for something in it.