Chapter 10
Alexios
It feels like an age, waiting for the few brave enough in the milling crowd to put their names in the urn.
I’m not in the least bit surprised to see the angry redhead put her name in. I know exactly who she is. And I suspect her motivation has less to do with an eternal life, and more to do with the competition.
I glance over at her father. The three heroes on stage are clearly bored now. Chairs have been brought for them, and the waves at the crowd are less frequent.
The giant is fascinating, and I look forward to getting to know more about him.
“Now?”
I smile at the voice in my head. “No. Not yet.”
“Are you sure?”
“Quite.”
I hear a mental sigh. “But I’m hungry.”
“You’re always hungry. Self-control is a hard-won victory. Ask me how I know.”
“Five minutes left! And then we will, with no further ado, announce our final hero!” The commentator’s voice booms through the space, and the chatter renews with vigor.
“Ah, Alexios! What a pleasure!”
I plaster a smile on my face as the ghastly Mrs. Codridae saunters over to me. She’s wearing something huge on her head that, ironically, has come from a peacock.
I take her proffered hand. “You look delightful as always,” I say, beaming.
Fuck, but these people are boring.
“As do you.” Her eyes roam obviously over my bare chest. Exactly why I wear no shirt, special girl.
“I’m quite sure one as lovely as you has heard everything there is to hear today,” I say, fixing my eyes on hers and projecting my smile into them. Just a tiny bit too slowly, I lick my lips.
I see her cheeks tint and her eyelids hood. Easy pickings.
“Well, I hear Hercules is keeping his crew small. So as not to share the prize, of course.”
“Wise.” I nod. “And Theseus?”
“Already chosen his crew too, four of them.”
Shit. I expected it, but it’s still annoying to have it confirmed. “Including the goddess of pleasure, no doubt?”
“Of course.” She smiles. “And two warriors.”
“If the Trials are as deadly as we’ve been led to believe, also wise,” I say.
“Indeed.”
There is no point asking about the giant’s crew. “And who do we think the gods will choose as their fourth hero?”
“Well, I have to assume it will be Achilles or Perseus. But neither are here today.”
“Perseus is currently lost to the mortal realm,” I say, musing out loud. Her interest instantly piques.
“He is?”
I tap my nose. “Information only for you, Mrs. Codridae. And do you have something as juicy in return for me?”
She leans in, smiling. She smells like lavender. I fucking hate lavender.
“Rumor has it that the girl who fled Hercules is here.”
Useless. I already knew that. I school my face, though, and play the fool. It doesn’t do to look too well informed. Folk stop risking their secrets with you, when they think you know everything.
“Really? His daughter?”
“All that nonsense about him killing his family.” She waves her hand. “Look at him! Does he look like a killer to you?”
We both look over at Hercules. He’s famously a killer. All his victims started out being dressed by those in charge as villains, but over the years, they’ve seemed more indiscriminate.
But wealthy aristocracy like Mrs. Codridae rub shoulders with the likes of Hercules, and if she has to lie to herself to sleep at night, then that’s her problem, not mine.
“Why would his wayward daughter be here? Nobody has heard of her in decades,” I say, instead of answering the question.
She shrugs. “One of the gods wants her here, I suppose.” Her smile broadens. “They do love drama, our mighty deities.”
“That they do.”
“And they’re not exactly known for playing by the rules.”
I smile again. “They make the rules. Why should they play by them?”
She gives a tinkling laugh that gives me an instant headache, and is mercifully cut off by the commentator.
“Citizens of Olympus, your attention please!”
Everyone falls silent. The three heroes already on the stage stand up.
Slowly, and to rapturous applause, the twelve gods re-emerge onto the opposite stage.
I avoid looking at my father, instead scanning the crowd.
It could be any of us.
I fix my easy smile in place.
“Please meet your fourth and last hero, granddaughter of Zeus, captain of the Alastor, the fiery Lyssa!” bellows the commentator.
A few dozen feet away, the red-haired girl floats up from the marble, eyes wide with alarm. Her feet kick as she’s levitated toward the stage, and then she tenses, rigid, when she locks eyes with Hercules.
For a beat, he looks startled, then a slow smile takes his face.
I clench my teeth under my own smile, a mix of emotion whirring through me as a I clap along with everyone else. Hercules’s name can be heard in every group of chatter as they piece together who “Captain Lyssa” is.
“Now?” says the voice in my head.
“No. Not yet.”
“What are we waiting for?”
“We need a new plan.”
“Why?”
“We weren’t chosen.”
“Oh.”
“And the girl who was chosen is not going to give us an invitation.”
There’s a pause. “Girl?”
“Yes. Woman, I guess, if you want to be age specific.”
Another pause. “I may have a new plan.”