Home, she thought fiercely. Oh please let us in. Just listen to us.
Iyana dropped most of the wind and guided the Gryphiekin with slight pressure. He obeyed the direction in which her wind ushered him, navigating toward the open plains on the Southeastern slope. Iyana braced herself as the boundary drew closer. Not twenty feet from the barrier, the Gryphiekin flapped, then reared as he landed, claws digging into the earth.
Between the guard towers, behind the magical boundary, half a dozen guards gaped, waiting for them.
“I think they were alerted to our approach,” Braxtus said wryly.
Iyana’s throat was tight, and she locked eyes with Galene.
“Now what?” Galene asked.
There was a brief moment of silence, then Iyana pushed herself up and flew from the back of the Gryphiekin, toward where the guards were drawing their weapons.
She recognized their faces, and the faces of others running down to join them. They all knew her, too, but as their eyes darted among the ragged group, they always fell back to the creature behind her. Few of them even gave more than a glance to Iyana as she stopped before the barrier, only feet in front of them.
“We need to speak to Zeus,” she told them. “It’s urgent.”
They exchanged glances. The head guard muttered instructions to Myron Unnamed, and he ran off.
The next few minutes stretched for eternity. Then …
“Iyana Unnamed.”
She jumped. The voice was clear, magnified far beyond its normal capabilities. Even the trees seemed to recoil from the power behind it.
Iyana straightened, a sudden determination steeling her weary body.
“Father.”
“Did I not remind you of the consequences of exile?”
“You did.” Iyana gradually released the wind that supported her and touched down on the path. She scanned the open space of Olympus before her, trying to pinpoint her father’s location.
“Did you not make the decision to walk away from Mount Olympus?” His voice was stiff, with an undercurrent of anger. “Knowing full well you would not be allowed to return?”
“I did, Father. But—”
“Begone.” He dismissed her more harshly than she had anticipated. “I will not hear what you have to say.”
“But you’re in danger!” Iyana raised her voice, letting the wind carry and amplify it. “Galene was framed as part of a plot to overthrow Olympus—”
A derisive laugh rang out over Iyana’s words, and she ground her teeth, knowing instinctively who the voice belonged to. Hera would do her best to keep her husband’s daughter off Olympus forever.
“It took you all that time to come up with this story?” Hera sneered. “I’m amazed you didn’t run home sooner.”
Braxtus groaned, and Iyana clenched her fists. “It’s the truth. Give me a chance to explain—”
“I have stayed my hand this long only because you’re my daughter, but the laws of Olympus won’t allow me to let you linger much longer,” Zeus cautioned. “I command you again to depart.”
“At least let Braxtus and Kostas in!” Iyana said desperately. “They’re here with us, and they are not exiled. Kostas needs immediate help, and Braxtus can explain our story.”
“Braxtus Unnamed left Mount Olympus and joined the exiled,” Hera returned coldly.
Iyana sucked in a breath, glancing back at him. His jaw was set as he returned her gaze. “He left with Kostas, God of Games. He was escorted by an Immortal.”
“Does Kostas speak for him?” Zeus asked stoically.
Iyana’s stomach clenched.
“Zeus, King of Olympus.” Braxtus raised his voice as well. One arm was still around his best friend to keep him from slipping. “Kostas is on the verge of death. He cannot speak at all. He needs to see my father, Apollo, for healing.”
There was a long silence before Zeus spoke again.
“Leave Kostas where you are, then depart. We will take him back in, heal him, and hear his story. Depending on what he has to say, we may contact you. In the meantime, do not return to Olympus again.”
Galene’s shoulders slumped. Iyana shook her head, a sick feeling settling in her gut. We don’t have time for that. A furious wind rushed around them. The Gryphiekin raised his head, closing his eyes in enjoyment.
The Gryphiekin. Zeus hadn’t said anything about him … which meant he didn’t know. He wasn’t looking at them. Her father was probably speaking from his throne through one of Iris’s messageways.
Iyana raised her hands and the wind grew stronger. Her hair rushed into her face as she made one last attempt to get her father to hear her.
“Zeus, Father, though you can’t see us, you must have sensed the power we brought with us. We flew here on the back of the Gryphiekin.”
The silence stretched so long that Iyana began to fear he’d stopped listening.
“The Gryphiekin?” More than anything, Zeus sounded amazed.
“The Gryphiekin has been banished to the avyssos for eons,” Hera hissed.
“Come see for yourself,” Iyana invited. It probably wasn’t the best time to mention she had taken the power Zeus had given the Gryphiekin.
“You have the avyssos!” Hera screeched. “That is further proof of their treachery! Zeus, take it and expel them—”
“We don’t have the avyssos,” Iyana corrected loudly. “But that is part of our story. Let me explain. Please, Father. Olympus is truly in imminent danger.”
“No—” Hera started.
“Hera.” Zeus silenced her with one word, and Iyana’s heart leapt. She knew she had him. If what she had to say involved the Gryphiekin and the avyssos, it was obviously important.
It wasn’t immediate. Every second felt like an eternity as she waited for his decision.
Then the translucent boundary rippled vibrant blue, humming and shimmering before fading back to its usual color.
“Iyana, you have been granted temporary access to Mount Olympus,” Zeus announced. “Enter. Bring Kostas, God of Games. Tell us your story. If it’s plausible we’ll grant the rest of you temporary admittance until we have confirmed the truth.”
Iyana felt a jolt of nerves that her father had chosen her to speak for them instead of Braxtus. She looked at him and Galene again. They gave her encouraging, hopeful nods, and she raised her hand, calling her wind to lift Kostas from Braxtus’s arms. It swept under his body and supported him. She focused on keeping him steady as the billowing wind guided him to her.
She faced Olympus. “Thank you, Father.”
“Straight to the throne room.”
She nodded, then, keeping Kostas afloat beside her, crossed through the barrier back into her home.
* * *
THE OLYMPIANS LOOKED down coldly at her from their golden thrones. She felt like a bug; a tiny insect they were considering, ready to squash. Zeus, who had gone to the boundary line to see the Gryphiekin in person, was the only one absent.
They all waited for his return in silence. Zeus’s empty throne seemed to glare at her as much as the eyes of the others. It took so much effort just to stay standing, Iyana worried if she would be able to get through a whole hearing.
Finally, the door opened and her father swept in. His gray eyes landed on Iyana as he dropped onto his seat. They searched her, and she forced herself not to fidget. “Speak.”
Iyana ignored the pain shooting through her head and the weariness in her bones, then began.
“Poinê, the exiled Goddess of Retribution, recruited Demitri Unnamed to set Galene up to be exiled.”
A few mutters rose, but Zeus didn’t speak, watching her intently.
“You’re back at this argument, are you? Have you so quickly forgotten the vision that proved Galene Unnamed guilty?” Apollo asked.
She bowed her head in respect before speaking. “The vision you recieved, Apollo, was inaccurate.” He stiffened on his throne. “It was twisted by Demitri Unnamed.”
Silence fell as the O
lympians considered her words.
Finally, Ares scoffed. “My son, with power to manipulate prophecy?”
“Dreams,” she corrected. “Apollo’s prophecy came to him in a dream. Demitri never declared a second ability, but he has tampered with my dreams as well. And others. He admitted all of this to me.”
“Even if that were true, why would Poinê want Galene exiled?” Athena questioned.
Iyana took a steadying breath. “Because Galene had the ability to steal the avyssos.” She hesitated. “Which she—we—did.”
A commotion rippled through the gods, Hera’s outcry louder than the others. “Once exiled, you turn immediately to steal one of our most guarded artifacts, and now you ask us to trust you?” The Queen angled her scepter toward her threateningly.
“You must listen to our story!” Iyana shouted above them. “I will explain it all.”
Zeus raised a calm hand. A hush fell upon them and the eyes of the Olympians, more burning and untrusting than ever, stared expectantly.
Iyana flew through their tale, from the encounter with Poinê and Chrysander, to their plan to save Olympus from the rebels, through the race to the avyssos and all the trials they had faced.
Then, swallowing hard, Iyana finished. “Demitri must have prearranged a meeting with Poinê on an island where we stopped to rest. He betrayed us there. Poinê and Chrysander arrived, and the truth came out. He admitted to everything, how it was he who created the beasts, he who twisted Apollo’s prophecy to show Galene in his place.” There were many raised eyebrows, but no one stopped her. “He decided to join me in exile when I was a potential threat to his plans, and”—here she looked apologetically at Galene’s father—“twisted a dream of Poseidon’s, planting the idea to give Galene a boon. That way we could all travel with her underwater.”
All eyes turned to the Olympian with the long, dark silver hair. Poseidon blinked his sea-green eyes at her, then nodded slowly. She let out a breath, legs trembling.
“We did our best to stop them and take back the avyssos. Kostas was pushed from a cliff.” Her head started to get fuzzy. “They … they got away. They left us to die fighting the Gryphiekin, which Poinê released from the avyssos.”
She paused, looking uneasily at her father again.
His lips twitched. “And, if I might take a guess, you bested my creation by claiming the power I’d given him as your own.”
She ducked her head, but Zeus didn’t seem to be angry. The power thrummed inside of her quietly. “Yes, Father.”
When he didn’t say anything further, she addressed them all. “We’re here to warn you that Poinê is drawing everything willing to fight from the avyssos. She plans to wage war against Olympus within the month.”
Athena appraised her. “That is quite the story. Saving Olympus is the perfect way to redeem yourselves. The only way, in fact, after your friend tried to destroy it.”
Her head throbbed distantly and black fringed her vision. She was too exhausted to protest.
“I do not believe this is a fabrication,” a new voice said suddenly. Iyana turned to see Hermes, with his dark skin and black eyes, staring at her. Hermes, Kostas’s father and God of Thieves, didn’t speak often. The other Olympians hushed to listen. “This can’t be from her imagination. People lie to be believed. If this is a lie, she would have thought of a better one.”
The Olympians looked at each other.
“If this does not sway you,” he continued, “look at what she and my son have been through. Kostas has a long recovery ahead of him. They have obviously faced many challenges.”
Silence. Then Ares spoke. “Battle leaves a mark. I sense its presence.”
The gods considered this.
Zeus nodded. “We shall allow Galene and Braxtus Unnamed in for now, and send scouts to see how much of their story we can confirm. All in favor?”
Iyana didn’t see the results of the vote. The last, feeble dregs of her energy depleted, and her knees buckled.
39
KOSTAS
Kostas shifted on the bed. His head throbbed in unison with his aching ribs. Despite holding back his groan, Galene’s aura clouded with worry. She studied his face.
“I’m fine,” he assured her for the tenth time.
She scowled. “When any certified healer tells me that, then I’ll believe it.”
“I’m healing quickly. I’m in good care. I’ll be out of here in no time.” He stroked his thumb across her palm and felt her emotions blush, soothing her worry, but not dissipating it.
“You were on the brink of death when we got back here. Skull fracture, broken ribs, internal bleeding in your abdomen and brain, along with a few other broken things. It’s only been two weeks, and you’ve been ordered to stay in bed for at least one more.” She sniffed. “I’m only here so often to make sure you don’t go running off prematurely, because you think you’re fine.”
“Come on, we both know I’m smarter than that. That’s just your excuse to spend time with me.” He winked.
She smacked him.
“Watch it! I’m still healing.”
She rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide her amusement.
“I just hope I’m healed enough to fight when the time comes.” His eyes drifted to the open door where there was a constant, unusually high amount of bustle—a stream of gods and goddesses coming in for physicals.
The Olympians had sent their scouts to track Poinê, and as pieces of their story came back confirmed—the missing avyssos, movement in the Land of the Taraxippi, and a small ship along its coast—battle preparations began. Their first move had been to summon all gods and goddesses back to Olympus to fight. They had started trickling in from all over the country, leaving their established temples to answer the call. The entire mountain was readying for war, and Kostas could only watch from the window.
“I’m just glad you’re alive,” Galene said softly.
He met her eyes. He was being selfish, wasn’t he? He was lucky to be alive. Lucky his friends had survived, too, and managed to get back to Olympus. Lucky they’d let any of them through the gates. Especially Galene.
He smiled. “How’s my temple? Braxtus isn’t raiding my Linked Chamber, is he?”
“No more than is to be expected.” Humor lit her eyes.
“Good. And you and Iyana are comfortable in the guest rooms?”
Though the Olympians had not revoked Galene’s sentence or Iyana’s self-banishment, they had allowed the three of them to stay in Kostas’s temple. It was heavily guarded, and they had a curfew, but Galene, Iyana, and Braxtus could move about freely otherwise. Kostas suspected it had something to do with needing every available arm to train and fight.
Iyana and Braxtus were practicing now. They spent most of their days that way, Galene pretending to grow tired sooner than the others to visit him. “Yes, thank you.”
“And everyone is recovering well?”
“Braxtus is nearly at a full sprint again,” Galene reported. “Iyana is practically blooming, loving her new power. She uses it constantly, sometimes just to see what she can do. Yesterday she tried to float a pitcher full of water to the dinner table and pour it into our glasses.” She chuckled. “The goddess can nail a target with a spike, but that did not end well.”
Kostas smiled. “And you?” he asked.
Her eyes rose to the high windows as she took in a deep breath. “I’m well.”
Physically, he knew she’d recovered from her ordeal, but … “But you’re not content.”
She hesitated, and her unease washed over him. “I’m home but, not really. Not yet.” He nodded. She was still a prisoner, still a suspect in what had triggered all of this. They were all still under suspicion until further notice. “And can anyone be content knowing a war is coming to their doorstep? It’s just a waiting game.”
“Tell me about it.” Kostas could empathize with that aspect of things at least.
“But games are your specialty.”
H
e pressed his lips in a tight smile.
Galene smirked, then sighed, settling deeper into her chair. “Well, hopefully soon, everything will be back to normal.”
“I hope not.” She gave him a quizzical look, and he clarified. “Demitri and Chrysander are wrong in their methods, but things do need to be different here. Hopefully, this opens the Olympians’ eyes.”
It was her turn to offer the tight-lipped smile. “Maybe they’ll change their minds, and I won’t have to wait ten more years before re-attempting my Immortality Trial.” She was hopeful, but he could sense her reeling back that emotion, not wanting to be disappointed in the future.
“They’d be insane to ignore everything you’ve done over the past few weeks. You’re more worthy than anyone I know of becoming an official deity.”
“Thank you,” she said, leaning in to give him a peck on the cheek. She’d started doing that since he woke up, and every time she did, his insides warmed like coals.
“I really should be thanking you. Not only for saving my life”—she rolled her eyes, but he pressed on—“but for starting me on the greatest adventure I’m sure to ever go on.”
Her smile turned crooked. “If you don’t recall, I was framed, and you left of your own accord.”
“Fine,” he conceded, taking both of her hands in his. “Then for being there for it.”
40
BRAXTUS
Iyana looped around Braxtus once in the air before landing on her feet in front of him. “Again.”
Braxtus couldn’t help but smile at her, decked out in battle-armor, hair pulled back tightly into a braid, which meant she was serious. They stood in a private section of the training grounds, away from the hordes of other practicing gods and goddesses.
After just two days of rest, Iyana had asked Braxtus to help her train. They’d been out every day since.
Braxtus was more than a little worried for her. Anger threatened to boil out of him every time he thought of how Demitri had manipulated her, but Iyana hadn’t even mentioned his name. If Braxtus didn’t know better, he’d assume she wasn’t grieving his betrayal at all. But she had loved him, and every once in a while he saw the shadow in her eyes that proved it. Every time he caught a glimpse of her pain, Iyana threw herself back into practice with fiery dedication.
The Immortal Game Page 23
