19
My leg aches by the time we reach the top landing. I’d slowed my stride trying not to push it too hard, pretending that Akira’s dress limited my movement.
The truth is that we have a trial tomorrow and I don’t want to chafe or blister my skin tonight.
August and I are the last to arrive and everyone notices, divine and mortal alike.
When Aymes offers me his arm, I beam a smile at him and watch his brow flinch with surprise. Then enjoy the sight of his grin stretching to match as we move through the gathered crowd to find our friends.
With two trials out of five complete and the third one tomorrow, many of the deities mingle with the mortals, seeming motivated to select one of them tonight.
Tae stands with Isis across the room. She gestures to her own dress and nods to the one she chose for me. A silent compliment. I grin my thanks.
Ulani is in deep conversation with his champion, the mighty Polynesian sea god Kanaloa. Vailea waits nearby, waving briefly as we walk past.
Koda uses his cane to reach us, so we hurry over to keep his journey brief. His worried eyes calm with relief as he comes within earshot. “I thought something had happened. You’re never late.”
He opens his arms and I hug him. “Did you get some rest?”
“I did. This old body can’t keep up with the demands of these trials, I’m afraid.” He smooths his red shirt, looking between August and me. It’s a slightly darker shade than what he wore into the labyrinth.
August shifts the conversation toward the rich scents of the banquet feast spread over long tables at the far end of the temple. Smaller round tables for dining are set around the room. Some sit empty. Others are already occupied – in part, or wholly.
Musicians warm up in the corner, and sweet notes rise to the ceiling. They ricochet and drape over us.
“Do you think the gods experience music as we do?” Koda asks August.
Aymes gives him a kind smile. “I’m not sure.”
For a musician, August rarely talks about music. Especially his.
I imagine the divine would say that our senses are dull and pitiful. But as I sway to the chords, I can’t bring myself to care, even if they’re right. Regardless of how we experience it, I’m glad we do.
“Are Anansi and Ogun here?” I ask our friend, scanning the crowd for them.
Koda aims an apologetic look at August. “Anansi sent word that they won’t be attending tonight.”
My heart sinks. I’d hoped August and Ogun might talk and come to an agreement. He needs a champion. And it seems Koda was thinking along the same lines.
Koda takes one of my hands and beams. “But look at you, Callalie. As pretty as a pearl.” He nudges August. “Isn’t she?”
After the thoughts I had about him this evening, I can’t bring myself to look above the long column of his throat.
August folds his hands behind his back. “She certainly is.”
When Koda shifts his weight, then a breath later shifts again seeking relief, I know the climb to the temple for the second time today has taken its toll. “Should we find a seat? Some of the tables are already filling up.”
“Of course,” Koda easily agrees, and we move to a free one.
August pulls out a chair for him, holds the next one out for me, then slides into the seat to my right.
I nod at the empty one on his other side. “Let’s hope Ares doesn’t join us this time.”
His features harden at the mention of the Greek god of war, then he grins. “At least he won’t be able to sit beside you.”
The three chairs across from us remain unclaimed as the game pivots around us like the stars August likes to track outside his window.
Hera, radiant in shimmering cerulean, asks the musicians to stop playing for a moment. When all is quiet, she invites us to fill our plates and glasses. A line forms to the buffet and slowly wends through the room.
We stay at our table until the crowd dwindles so Koda won’t have to stand as long. I’m aware of the way certain gods move across the room. Some I’m curious about because I don’t know them, but they feel like power, like familiar forces I can’t quite place.
Others I’m wary of. Particularly the divine beings I know by heart – for better or worse.
Ares.
Athena.
Susanoo is here, looking far more haggard than when he disappeared from the arena floor.
Lovely Chang’e sits at a nearby table, discreetly speaking to a man who’s near fifty. I recognize him as one of the men who fell to the arena floor after their large group arrived, his white clothes sprayed crimson.
Candlelight slips softly over the goddess’s pale pink, silk robes and caresses her flawless skin and black, coifed hair. She nods emphatically at something he says, then leans in to tell him something. I hope he can convince her to champion him.
“That’s Peng,” Koda says of the contestant. “He lives a couple houses down from me. Nice fellow.”
Peng’s dark hair gleams as his stark clothes turn pink to match the goddess who has just claimed him.
Koda gives his neighbor a nod and a proud grin when he glances our way, earning a humble, relieved wave from the man.
The tables are full, and the line to the buffet is largely empty now.
As Koda stands, relying heavily on his cane to stand, then walk, August offers to prepare and carry his plate.
Too weary to argue, Koda accepts, insisting on at least walking over with us even when August tells him he should stay and rest. They work their way through the excess of food, Koda telling August what to add to his dish and how much.
When they trail away to our table, I feel Morrigan approach.
I continue placing slivers of cheese and bread on my dish, feigning mortal ignorance, because somewhere in the room, Ares is watching.
There’s not a person alive who wouldn’t notice Morrigan beside them. Her presence fills the room and when she draws near… there’s no escaping her.
On her other side, Niall spoons honey over his figs.
Morrigan is darkness. That’s what I told Carina when she asked what the goddess was like the first time I was allowed to visit home after being conscripted. It was just after my first brief war ended.
Most people describe darkness as the absence of light.
But anyone who says that hasn’t been close to Morrigan.
There’s a warmth and depth to the goddess that is anything but cold or empty.
And in it – in her – lives an unmistakable, deadly sharp edge.
Perhaps they should define light by the absence of her.
She steps so close, her dark sleeve brushes my forearm. “Tell me, Callalie, is August Aymes still in want of a champion?”
The muscles in my back tighten as I add a cluster of grapes to my dish. Joy rushes through my veins. Morrigan and her pantheon may not be able to champion me due to Ares’s shifting rules, but she can help August. “He is.”
Morrigan spoons some sort of custard onto her plate. “Brigid is considering him. I understand Ogun has already made his interest known to your ally…”
“Interest isn’t an offer,” I counter.
She hums. “Brigid would consider any hesitation an insult.” And no one, god or mortal, wants to insult Brigid. Her anger is a bright, scalding thing.
I stop and meet her eyes. “I’ll talk to him.”
And silently add, Thank you.
Her nod is nearly imperceptible.
I grab a glass of water and head back to speak with August, but his seat is empty. He’s rejoined the line to build his own plate now that Koda is settled.
Koda points out a few of the delicious things he’s tasted thus far, but his words evaporate as Elias, Athena, and Aphrodite claim the three unoccupied chairs at our table.
Koda stops chewing and grabs his drink, looking uneasily between me and our new guests. The fire on the wicks of the pale tapers in the centerpiece gutter as Athena’s sharp gray eyes slip to me and hold.
The scent of ambrosia wafts from the goddesses’ cups, rich, sweet, and timeless. It beckons to mortals, a decadent poison to any who try to drink it. Our fragile forms can’t handle its potency.
Aphrodite’s hair is a cascade of bright gold, with tan skin so supple it glistens. Her body is an alluring mix of toned muscles and sensual curves. She’s a bow, drawn and ready to deliver the decisive tip of her arrow.
Though they are often rivals, tonight, both goddesses wear blue. Athena’s is the color of the ethereal midday sky, while Aphrodite’s is periwinkle, a lush shade that flirts with purple while remaining true to her pantheon’s choice.
Then there’s Elias, who’s wearing a velvet sapphire suit despite the warm evening air.
Elias, who made his way through the maze with us. Who ran out to fight the minotaur today. Who swims like an eel because his mother loved him enough to teach him.
Elias, who tried to kill me because I almost killed him.
Elias… Who looks terrible. Sweat beads on his brow and above his lip. His back is ramrod straight. He doesn’t look up or even touch his food in the presence of his champion, and doesn’t seem to remember the feel of the sly grins he usually flashes.
What has she done to him?
“My mortal has informed me that he’s entered into an alliance with you,” Athena succinctly informs me.
He aligned with an entire group of people, but I’m the one with whom she takes issue.
She hates me on behalf of her brother, but I wonder if there are other reasons for her disdain.
Ares is war and brutality and bloodlust, but Athena is strategy and battle and brains.
Could she genuinely be concerned for Elias’s safety?
“Your mortal has a name,” I reply.
Koda clears his throat. His foot nudges mine in warning.
“I’ve advised Elias that it was foolish of him to cast his lot in with you.” Her tone is biting.
I sit back, swilling the water in my glass. “Did you at least tell him who would make a better choice?”
Aphrodite gives a conspiratorial laugh. “She has.”
Elias tugs at the collar of his velvet jacket.
“Who would you suggest he align with?” I ask.
“Anyone else would be better,” Aphrodite leans in to loudly whisper. She punctuates her sentence with a wink.