I drop onto the end of the bed and put my face in my hands. “I have about as much control over my powers as I do the rising of the sun.”
“Errr...well...maybe it won’t be as bad as you think?”
“Oh?” I look at him over my shoulder. “I’m heading into a mountain of monsters with a monster by my side. AKA Haven Knightfall. I think it’s going to be exactly as bad as I think.”
Max grimaces. “Yeah, you might be right.” He nods at the dogs. “You taking them?”
“Definitely. Because of the monsters.”
“Good. I bet they’ll keep you safe. They seem to love you.”
I get up and continue packing. “So if Hades has never sent a descendant to the Fates, why now? What’s different?”
Max sits forward and props his elbows on his knees. “I did happen to overhear Hades telling Nereus that he went to see the Fates and that they gave him nothing but more questions.”
“And you waited until now to tell me this?”
“Sorry. I forgot about it until now! Anyway, Hades is freaking out about Cronus and he’s starting to get desperate. Hades and Zeus and Poseidon and Ares have all been out hunting Cronus and have had zero luck. From the sound of it, you’re the only one who's gotten remotely close.”
I stop mid-fold of my shirt to frown at him. “Me?”
He nods. “In the maze? Monstrat said Cronus was nearby. That’s why the shadowmen were there.”
“I guess I didn’t think about it that way.”
“Maybe you really are the key to this whole thing,” Max jokes. “I mean look, you’re from Hestia’s House, chosen by the Fates for a house that is notoriously only men. And now—” He nods quietly at the dogs. “Underworld hounds are at your beck and call. You aren’t exactly...what’s the mortal term? A wallweed?”
“Wallflower,” I correct.
“Yes, that.”
“What do you think Cronus wants anyway? Does Hades know?”
Max goes to my wardrobe and pulls open one of the two drawers on the bottom. He grabs a dagger. “Just in case,” he says and hands it over. “Do you know the prophecy about Cronus?”
I take the dagger by the hilt. It’s perfectly balanced. Monstrat would be proud of me for noticing. “Sure,” I say. “Cronus was destined to be overthrown by his son, just like he overthrew his father, Uranus.”
Max nods. “It’s why Cronus was in Tartarus to begin with. There was a war between the Olympian gods and Cronus because he had swallowed all of his children to prevent them from overthrowing him.
“It was Zeus, born last and hidden away, that defeated him.”
“That was a long time ago.”
“Yeah, which has surely given Cronus time to plot his revenge.”
I slide the dagger in its sheath into a side pocket of my pack. “You really think there’ll be a war?”
Max shrugs. “I think we’ve gotten away with peace for much longer than nature usually allows. The gods aren’t exactly known for peacefully coexisting with each other under the best of circumstances.”
He’s right, of course, and it makes me sad to think about. People die in war.
“Maybe Hades and Zeus and the others will capture Cronus before it comes to that,” I say hopefully. “They’ve been in power for over a millennium. Surely they can stop Cronus who’s been in captivity just as long.”
Max offers a smile, but I can tell it’s just for show. “Yes,” he says. “Let’s hope.”
Chapter 7
When it’s time to depart, I meet Monstrat and Haven on the footpath just to the north of Hades’s House and the Dark Wood. Hades is nowhere in sight. It’s just me and Haven and the professor. And my hounds, of course, except they’re currently chasing a butterfly around a thistle bush and seem far more interested in it than they are me.
It’s nearly sunset and while I’ve come to find this time of day comforting now that I’m in Hades’s House, out here near the Dark Wood, it feels foreboding.
“It’s important to note,” Monstrat says, “that while this isn’t your last trial, it most assuredly is part of it. In order to win, you must return together.”
Haven scowls. “Yes, professor. This we know.”
“I thought it prudent to remind you.” Monstrat’s expression hardens. “Just in case you’d forgotten.”
“I promise that I will protect the burden I’ve been saddled with,” Haven says.
Meaning me.
“I’m not a burden.”
He looks at me, eyes tight. “Have you ever been to Mount Ida, orphan? It’s no Olympus City. There’re no bread shops. No lantern-lit foot paths. No warm hearths. It’s cold and remote and there are monsters around every turn.”
“I’m not an idiot,” I bite out.
“And what do you know of fighting monsters, Hearthtender?”
Hands on my hips, I say, “I killed the shadowmen, didn’t I?”
Haven drops his bag. “You wouldn’t have made it that far had I not saved you from the minotaur. Or did you forget that part of your victory story?”
“I could have bested the minotaur.”
He snorts. “Oh, you think so?”
“Hey!” Monstrat puts a hand on my shoulder and urges me back. It’s only now that I realize Haven and I are inches apart and his mouth is so close to mine, I can smell the mint on his breath.
“Well, this will go swimmingly, I’m sure.” Monstrat pushes his glasses up on the bridge of his nose. “Try not to kill each other, all right? Work together and you’ll be just fine.”
Haven grunts his assent and then lifts his bag back up over his shoulder. “Let’s just get this over with.”
As Haven starts off down the trail, Monstrat pulls me aside. His sandy blond hair has recently been cut so I can see the black line tattooed around his head from temple to temple. I’ve always wondered why he chose that particular art but never had the courage to ask.
“As much as I hate to admit it, he’s right,” Monstrat says. “It’s dangerous on that mountain. And the monsters are really the least of your worries. When you meet the Fates, bow to them. Do not disrespect them and most of all, don’t be afraid of what they tell you.”
“Okay. Got it. Sure. Don’t be an ass to the Fates. Don’t wander off the trail. Don’t look anything in the eye and most of all, don’t kill Haven Knightfall.” I roll my eyes as I start off after Haven. “Piece of cake.”
Haven stays several paces ahead of me as we leave Hades’s House and the Dark Wood behind us. When we emerge from the shadow side of Mount Olympus and the last of the day’s sunlight hits me, I almost stop to weep. The warmth feels so damn good on my skin.
In the distance, the light hits the top of Mount Ida turning the south side golden.
For all my bravado, Haven is right—I’ve never been to Ida. I’ve never had a reason to stray much farther than Olympus City. As an orphan in Hestia’s House, I’d dreamed of grand adventures and epic journeys, but it was a distant dream like one might imagine themselves fighting dragons or marrying a prince.
Now I’m actually doing it and my stomach is knotted at the thought of what dangers we might encounter. What if I get eaten by a catoblepas? I’m sure Haven will laugh the whole time while the monster crunches into my bones.
Over his shoulder, Haven calls out, “I’m not waiting for you, orphan. Catch up.”
I quicken my pace with a grumble. Tarter and Russ adjust their pace to keep in step with me. They’ve been decidedly quiet since we left home and I’m not sure if that’s a good sign or a bad one.
“What do you think, boy?” I ask Tarter. “Are we walking to our doom?”
He looks up at me with his big puppy-dog eyes. He licks his chops and then pants as a flash of red appears in his gaze.
“Your mutts have names?” Haven asks.
We cross a field of poppies and the dogs disappear in the overgrowth sniffing at the ground.
“Tarter and Russ.” I brace for him to make fun.
; Instead, he says, “I had a dog once. Her name was Sita. My mother gave her to me when I was five as a birth present.”
I don’t know why this revelation feels vital, but it does. I want to keep him talking.
“What kind of dog was she?”
“Opilio canis.”
“They’re the tall, lean dogs aren’t they? And usually they have silver hair.”
Haven nods. “She was descended from Argos’s bloodline.”
“Odysseus’s dog?”
“The same.”
“She must have been fiercely loyal.”
He stops at the top of a foothill. “She was.” He scans the horizon. “We should transition our traveling to the daylight. It’ll be safer.” He looks at me over his shoulder squinting against the sunlight. “Your think your hounds will be good for keeping watch?”
Russ catches the scent of something and goes still, her form turning misty on the edges. A second later, a bunny darts out of a hole and Russ gives chase.
“Yeah, I think so.”
Haven nods. “Let’s cross this valley and find somewhere to camp on the other side.”
I don’t tell him as much, but I’m grateful for him navigating. I would never be able to make this journey alone as much as I’d like to think so.
We keep walking. The valley between Mount Olympus and Mount Ida is without many trees, but what it lacks in woods it makes up for in lush green ground cover. When the last rays of sunlight break across the valley it turns the scene glittering emerald green.
In the distance, to the south, a narrow river winds through the valley like a snake. The water’s surface shimmers like scales.
“This is amazing.”
Haven is downhill from me now and he stops long enough to look up at me. “You really need to get out more, Hearthtender.”
“Apparently.”
He hooks his hands around the straps of his pack. “We should keep moving. It’ll be dark soon.”
I head down the path and Haven waits for me near an outcropping of sharp stone, but when I’m a few feet from him, I hit a patch of loose gravel and lose my footing. When I stumble back, the added weight of my pack throws me off and I have a split second to realize I’m headed right for the pointy end of one of the rocks.
In an instant, Haven is beside me. He catches me just inches from impaling myself on the rock.
I let out a surprised yelp.
He pulls me upright and into him. Away from the danger.
He’s breathing heavily like he just ran a marathon as he winds his arm around the small of my back.
Eyes pinched tight, he says, “Careful, Hearthtender.” A flash of unfamiliar emotion passes over his face and then he clears his throat. “I can’t win if I lose you.”
“Right.” I pull out of his grip as fire chases his touch. The more he touches me, the weaker my will power.
My heart is racing and my breath is thin and hot in my throat. “Thanks,” I say and take a step back. “I’m good now.”
He gives me a quick nod and starts again down the path.
Neither of us acknowledges the fact that he’s slowed his pace to match mine.
Neither of us acknowledges the fact that he now divides his attention between the horizon and me.
Chapter 8
When we started across the valley, it hadn’t looked that far to reach the other side.
Turns out I have horrible spatial awareness because it takes us nearly an hour and a half to cross the valley and another half hour to find a good spot to camp. It’s Haven that finally decides on a clearing that butts up against a wall of shale and looks out over the valley we just crossed.
Haven drops his pack and takes out his water bottle and guzzles it down. I try to busy myself with staring intently at the trees but Haven draws me in as he always does. I watch him drink. I like the way he tips his head back. I like the way his hair, sweaty from the hike, sticks up every which way. I like the way his Adam’s apple bobs in his throat as he swallows and his shirt lifts up just enough that I can see the V of his hip bones and the sliver of flesh that would lead right down to—
“Orphan,” he says.
I blink and look up.
Water glosses his lips.
He’s sweaty and so fucking hot.
Gods be damned.
I’m tingling and clenched tight.
Get it together.
“What?”
“We need fire,” he says. “You want to start it or gather the wood?”
My mouth is parched like a desert. “Hmm? Start what?”
He frowns at me. “The fire?”
“Oh sure. Yeah. Right.”
Tarter and Russ have left me for some grand adventure in the woods to the north of our campsite. I’m not absolutely certain they would come bounding to my rescue if I happened to come face to face with a cyclops or something. I’m not sure I want to risk it.
“I’ll start the fire,” I say.
Haven nods and sets off into the woods.
“Be careful,” I call out.
He stops long enough to look at me over his shoulder. “Did you hit your head in that fall?” he asks.
“What? No.”
He frowns again and disappears into the trees.
I am seriously losing my shit. Is this Hades’s idea of torture? Because if so, I’m waving the white flag. I give up.
With a grumble, I start clearing a spot for the fire and as I do, I realize I’ve never actually, intentionally, started one before. I know there’s something with rubbing sticks together? Maybe? And I need tinder. Something that will catch fast and burn hot.
I find a clump of dry thistle weed in a rock crevice and then remember something I read in a book once that said bark is good tinder. I go to the nearest pine tree and manage to get my fingers beneath a few chips of bark and pull it from the trunk. Last, I scavenge a good-sized stick from the forest’s perimeter.
I place the bark on the ground, stick the end of the stick on it, and then pile the thistle weed around it.
So, I just start spinning the stick?
“Here goes nothing.”
Immediately, friction builds up between my hands. If nothing else, my hands will be warm after this. I spin and spin and spin. For a second, I think I see smoke and just a flicker of a spark…but no, it’s just my hope playing tricks on my eyes.
Haven returns with an armful of wood and drops it beside me. He sits across the clearing and props his back up against the rock wall.
“If you managed to burn down the dress shop,” he says, “I’m sure you can manage one measly fire.”
“Shut up,” I say. I’m really starting to sweat now and my shoulders are aching from the speed with which I’m spinning the stick. But I don’t think I’m any closer to getting flame.
“Would you like me to take over?” Haven asks.
“No. I got it.”
“It doesn’t look like it.”
“I can do it!”
“Uh huh.”
I spin faster.
The sun has long since set and darkness is creeping in around us. There’s a new chill in the air. The sweat coating my back turns cold.
Haven spreads out his long legs. “How much longer do you think this’ll take?”
“Do you think you can do better?” I shoot daggers at him.
“I can, yes,” he answers easily.
“You think you’re better at everything.”
He stands up and comes over. “That’s because I am, orphan.” He makes a move to shove me aside, but I grip tighter at the stick.
“I said I can do it!”
Heat surges to my hands. A neon orange light crackles like tiny bursts of lightning around our campsite and the stick between my palms ignites with a WHUMP.
I drop it instinctively, thinking it’ll burn me, but somehow it doesn’t. My skin is unmarred.
The tinder catches and Haven hurries to stack wood around it. Within minutes, the fire is blazing.
&n
bsp; Haven says, “Looks like you needed help after all.”
“You’re an asshole.”
He smiles at me. There’s no triumph in it, only amusement and I allow myself a moment to glow in it. I used my magic and didn’t crumble the mountain beneath us so I consider that a win.
Except now I think Haven might be aware that I was bluffing earlier outside his bedroom door—I don’t have control of my magic. If I did, I would have used it from the beginning instead of spinning and spinning until my arms nearly fell off.
We sit in silence for a while. As the fire crackles and licks up the stacked wood, the chill retreats, but my clothing is still damp with sweat. I unzip my pack and pull out a fresh long-sleeved shirt and black pants. Haven pretends not to watch me, but I think there’s some lack of willpower on his part as much as there is on mine and it makes me ridiculously happy.
In fact, when I strip my shirt from my body, I go extra slow. I stand up and pull the pants off too so I’m only in my black bra and panties. Then I unplait my hair and let it fall around my shoulders in long, kinky waves. I tousle it with my fingers and then look across the firelight and find Haven’s eyes on me.
“Stop,” he says, his voice strangled.
“Stop what?”
There’s a dangerous edge to his gaze. Like he likes what he sees but hates how it makes him feel.
I make a show of turning and angling my body so Haven can see my backside. I feel his eyes on me as I bend over to pull up my pants, then again when I push out my chest to slip into my fresh shirt.
When I look over my shoulder at him, I swear his eyes are full of fire.
Welcome to the club, asshole. Two can play this game.
Just then, Tarter and Russ come bounding up the slope. They yip at each other and then Russ comes to a sliding halt in front of me, a bunny clutched between her teeth. The poor animal’s neck is twisted and its head is unnaturally floppy.
Russ drops the bunny and blood splatters over my bare feet.
“Russ!” I shout.
“Good girl,” Haven says and Russ hunkers down and takes Haven’s congratulatory scratching behind the ears.
Vicious Champion (Games of the Gods Book 2) Page 4
