Page 35 of The Mortal Trials

Not a single deity dances with me. None approach or even speak to me, though Thoth meets my eyes before leaving the temple with Isis.

He’s no longer willing to champion me.

From across the room, Ares watches me wait alone, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips.

When a girl wearing white garners the courage to approach him and gestures toward those lining up to waltz, inviting him to join her, trying to convince the Greek god of war to champion her, he denies her. But he stands up straighter as she trails away, because she wanted him. I bet he thinks we all do.

And maybe he’s right. Every mortal still unclaimed eyes him as they waltz across marble that might be splashed with their blood tomorrow. Not only do mortals watch him, several of the gathered divine do, too. Their stares are vastly different from the desperate ones of the contestants, however.

The gods are competitive. Prideful. They’re always vying for something to set them apart from their equals. Something to raise them onto a higher pedestal, even if only for a breath.

Could I do that for one of them?

If I win the first trial. If I conquer it, surely one of them will find me worthy of championship. They won’t be able to resist beating Ares at his own game. And if I secure a powerful enough champion, I can beg them to extend their protection to Cillian and Abuela.

They’re vulnerable in the desert between realms.

My heart thunders with new resolve. I must win the first trial and beat my sister’s murderer at his own game. What poetic justice that would deliver.

Dancing and laughing like tomorrow is nothing to fear, the other contestants are already playing. They intend to win, too. Only time will tell which of us will.

The musicians pause to take a drink and rest their hands. The contestants and divine part, most looking for someone new, someone different. Another chance, another option.

August Aymes notices me from a few paces away and walks over. “Hey,” he greets in the gravelly voice Carina and I swooned over, undoing another button of his shirt.

If I didn’t know who he was, I would assume he’s an athlete with those shoulders and tapered waist.

But that voice…

I focus on the other contenders. All of them are competition. I need to learn their strengths and overcome them, know their weaknesses so I can exploit them. Distractions, however attractive, won’t help me survive tomorrow. And August Aymes is a beautiful distraction. Maybe that’s why he was brought here.

“You should find another partner before they’re all taken,” I encourage, nodding to the number of divine that keeps shrinking as mortals invite them to the next waltz. The musicians take their seats again.

“I was hoping you’d do me the honor,” he says, flashing a hopeful smile.

Is he genuinely this nice or is he playing the game better than I am already?

Shrugging, I playfully inform him, “Alas, I’m not eligible to champion you.”

“Please?” He holds out a hand, waiting patiently for me to decide whether to take it.

“Why?” I ask, eyes narrowing.

He quirks a dark brow. “Because it’ll be fun.”

I shake my head. “None of the other contestants are dancing with one another. They’re all seeking a champion. Why aren’t you playing their little game instead of making up your own rules?”

“Maybe I want to do something unexpected to draw the gods’ eyes.”

“Maybe?” I ask with a teasing smile.

He grins and comes closer. “Or maybe I’d rather enjoy the rest of the moments I have left – whether they are few or plenty – instead of letting the ones who want me dead dictate how they’re spent. Maybe we can be dance partners, and partners in these trials. I think we’d work well together.”

“You want to be allies?”

He nods. “Allies and friends.”

“You don’t know anything about me.” Except that I’m a headcase who can’t bear the sight of my sister’s face – or mine. That I’d rather stay outside with the monsters guarding the waters than face my past. Can he tell that the present moment is always too close to the future for my liking?