4
The raven arrives the following morning with a separate missive for each of us pinched in its beak. He spits them onto the floor.
Niall collects them, warily watching the bird as it lingers in the doorway as he hands mine over. I sit up straighter on the hard wooden chair, studying the folded parchment. I don’t recognize the symbol on the seal, and judging by the crease between Niall’s eyes, neither does he.
At the bottom of a gold wax circle, two laurel branches part and arc upward.
I break the wax before Niall bothers to.
The dreadful feeling in my stomach increases a hundred-fold, because… What?
I flip the card over, then read it again. It’s written in Greek. And though I’m not fluent, I think I’m interpreting it right.
“We’ve been invited to a… a party? Gathering? Is that what this word means?” he stammers, pointing to the one he’s having trouble deciphering.
“I think so.”
He checks the back like I did. “It doesn’t say who’s hosting or what it’s for.”
I think back to Morrigan’s warning. When you face him, she said. Ares didn’t send this invitation, but I wager he’ll be attending this party.
Niall studies the raven still perched in the doorway, tilting its head back and forth, watching us. “Who sent this?” he asks it.
It caws at him, beats its wings, and flies away.
He growls. “Not helpful in the least.”
The paper is thick and imperfect. Pressed by hand. Each of the gods has their own sigil. This isn’t one I’m familiar with, and I’ve never known of a god to change their revered symbol.
“Do you mind if I go out for a walk and try to find the address?” he asks.
I shake my head.
“Do you want to come along?” He glances down at my repaired leg, which had cured overnight and operated more smoothly than it ever had.
There’s a tinge of hope in his voice that I want to squash. I will be civil, but I will not be friendly with him.
“No.”
He plucks at the shirt of his uniform. “I guess we wear what we have?”
I shrug. “If it mattered, she’d tell us.”
He returns frustrated an hour later, covered in sweat and cursing up a storm. After he found the address where the temple should be, he asked some locals for help. They’d never heard of it. “Maybe it’s some kind of joke.”
“Morrigan doesn’t possess a sense of humor, Niall.” She is as serious as she is steadfast.
He sets out again, convinced he must have erred, and searches for twice as long before giving up. The invitation lists a street that bleeds into the glistening sea, which implies that the provided address is among the waves. The fisherman at the shore said there is no temple in the vicinity.
We only have a couple of hours until the party begins.
I don my repaired prosthesis – which sounds and feels so much better – and my dusty uniform just before a courier arrives with a broad black box for each of us. Each is tied with a matching satin ribbon.
“I guess I have my answer about wardrobe,” Niall grumbles.
In his box lays a neatly folded, sleek black suit, shirt, socks and shoes, and underwear to match.
I carry my box into the bedroom and lay it on the mattress, unravel the knot, and toss the lid aside. When I see what Morrigan chose for me to wear, I consider what she might do if I disobey one of her orders for the first time.
Niall walks to my door, but doesn’t come in. “What did she send you?” He stands taller to see over the lip of the box. “Is that a dress?”
I love dresses. Always have. It would have been nice if the box contained something demure and sleek. Even a suit exactly like Niall’s would be preferable to this.
“No,” I answer.
His head tilts and his eyes narrow. “What is it, then?”
With a groan, I press a hand to my forehead.
He laughs. “That bad?”
It’s so much worse than bad.
Just then, a knock at the door draws Niall away. When he opens it, surprise washes over his features.
A sultry feminine voice with a beautiful Irish accent scolds him. “I don’t like to be kept waitin’. Which is why my lovely foot is tappin’. Move aside, boyo. I’m not here for you.”
“Who are you calling boyo?” he asks, offended.
The curvaceous woman pushes past him with a huge bag on her shoulder, long red curls whipping as her head sweeps the rooms until she finds me and starts my way. “I’m here for you.”
“Me?” I bristle.
She presses a hand to her ample chest. “I’m Aisling. The goddess Morrigan sent me to help you prepare for tonight.”
“Prepare how?”
“To dress, silly!” she laughs.
“I’ve been dressing myself since I was three.”
She clicks her tongue. “You act like you have no idea what you’re about to walk into.”
“That’s because I don’t,” I tell her honestly.
“Right,” she drawls, rolling her pretty eyes.
“I don’t. Morrigan told us to come here. We just received invitations to some party. Niall can’t even find the place where it’s being held.”
Aisling takes a frustrated breath and sits on the bed without asking if it’s okay. “Well, I guess I’ll start with that. The island isn’t here yet. But the gods’ll place it any minute now, I’d imagine.”
Aisling is in her early thirties with faint lines bracing full lips. Her brown eyes are as warm as her personality. She’s wearing a wool gown, its fabric far too hot for Olympus’s humid heat.
She shoves sleeves up her arms as far as they’ll go before opening her bag and rummaging around in it. “Came straight from Morrigan’s realm. Didn’t bother takin’ a moment to change my clothes. The goddess seemed impatient.”
And an impatient Morrigan is a dangerous Morrigan.
Niall leans on the door frame. He nods at Aisling and shoots me a look imploring me to find out what else she might know.
I shift toward her. “What are we celebrating tonight?”
She laughs warmly, but her smile fades away as she glances back and forth between Niall and me and answers, “You, of course.”
“Us?”
“Well… yes.” She guffaws. “Morrigan didn’t tell you anythin’? Truly?”
“I’m afraid to ask,” I mutter. If the goddess omitted something so basic, it doesn’t bode well for me. Her whispered warning fills my mind, and I swear I almost feel her breath on my neck. I rub the gooseflesh from the spot.
“I likely shouldn’t say more than that. If Morrigan doesn’t want you to know, there’s a reason,” she says thoughtfully, if not fearfully. As if snapping out of a trance, Aisling claps her hands. “Well, the two of you need to get ready, and fast. Your ride is on his way.”
“Ride?” Niall and I question at the same time.
Aisling rolls her eyes at us both. “The goddess might be indisposed, but she will make sure the pantheons know she’s never too far away from her people.”
Pantheons. My heart skips at the word.
Aisling scoots off the bed, pushes Niall out of the room, and slams the door in his face before yelling at him to get dressed. “Yours will take a little help donnin’, my dear.”
I glance at the outfit and almost snarl.
Aisling leans against the closed door. “Can I offer some advice?”
I nod.
“I know you don’t like the… ensemble. But if Morrigan sent it, there’s a reason. Somethin’ like that,” she nods to the contents of the box, “sends as strong a message as the armor you wore into battle.”
She crosses the space and waits for me to decide, and finally, the wisdom in her words takes root in my heart. She’s not wrong.
“Let’s get this over with,” I grumble.
A wide grin curves over her face before she strides over to help me. “You’re goin’ to look incredible.”
The fabric is far more pliant than I realized. The only way to describe it is as a dark, shimmering bodysuit that stretches from my jaw to the toes of my foot and prosthesis. “What kind of shoes am I supposed to wear with this? My boots?”
Aisling, brushing my hair, pauses in the middle of my back. “Absolutely not. No shoes.”
“What? Why?”
“Because those scarred things’ll blunt the glitter and every speck of you should shine.”
I peer over my shoulder at her. “The less conspicuous I am –”
She’s in front of me in a second, her eyes flashing. “You belong to the Celtics. You were not born to hide or be hidden.”
“I appreciate the sentiment, but drawing the attention of certain gods wouldn’t be wise.”
“If you’re speakin’ of Ares, you already have it. So you can cower – no one would fault you for it – or,” she smiles conspiratorially as she draws the bodysuit’s neck higher, “you can make the most of it.”
My chest feels like it might cave in. “Am I going to die tonight?” I bluntly ask, carefully watching Aisling’s expression.
“No,” she tells me firmly. “Morrigan wouldn’t allow it.”
“Morrigan won’t be there.”
She grins like a fox. “Oh, she’ll be watchin’ well enough and they all know it.”
Knowing something and fearing it are two different things.
Niall’s voice calls from the other side of the door. “Cal, I think our ride is here.”
I stand and look down. In this outfit, you can’t even tell I have a prosthesis. “She wanted to hide my leg?”
Aisling scoffs. “No, lass. Everyone saw you lose it. This will simply force people to look at you before rememberin’.”
Niall curses and something crashes onto the floor. Chair legs rake. Aisling pulls the bedroom door open and laughs. The tip of an enormous, black-feathered wing gouges into the room, swiping at Niall, who’s plastered against the farthest wall.
Awe swells within my chest. “I didn’t know there were any of them left.”
The brightness of Aisling’s grin could rival the sun. “Morrigan wouldn’t let these majesties disappear. She keeps ‘em tucked safely away for times such as this.”
“Parties?” I tease, sliding sweaty hands down my hips.
She chuckles, cooing at the creature as she eases its wing out of the doorway. “Go on now, préachán. Tuck in your wings and let ‘em climb on.”
Niall straightens. His eyes catch on me and flare. Does he think I look like I used to, or can he not see the girl I was at all?
I move to the door, putting distance between his observations and mine. I’m the first to mount the giant crow Aisling calls Ceann ársa – Ancient One.
Its breathing lifts and lowers me as I sit, straddling its back, searching in vain for a place to hold on. I don’t want to hurt him or pull out any feathers or down.