“I’ll be back as soon as I’m done,” I say with what I hope is an encouraging smile. I give his arm a squeeze before I go and when I look back over my shoulder, I see the dogs return to mere shadows.
Chapter 2
It’s quiet in Hades’s House now that the descendant’s trial is down to just Haven and me. It wasn’t until I came here that I learned Hades has more than one property in Olympus and that he conducts all of his trials and some training in a house separate from his palace.
Now, with the third trial looming, Haven and I are the only guests that remain within the house’s walls. The rest are staff. For one reason or another, probably my vicious underworld hounds, the staff have been giving me a wide berth lately.
For just a moment, I think I should ask Haven if this is how they are around him but then I remember that Haven is an ungrateful, goddess-cursed asshole and I will not be asking him anything at all.
As I head for the gallery on the north side of the house, I allow myself a moment to wonder what it would be like should I win the trial. What role would I play in Hades’s House? Hades already has a Head of House. An army general. Several troop commanders. I make a mental note to ask Max about my options later and hope that if I win, whatever my assignment is, it’s far from Nereus.
If I never look at another Knightfall again, it’ll be too soon.
When I enter the double doors of the gallery, I quickly scan the training room for Haven. Monstrat’s note didn’t specifically say it was just me that he would be training today, and I’m not ready to be ambushed by Haven again. I haven’t seen Haven since he took credit for saving the day and I hope it stays that way for as long as possible.
Until you have to defeat him, you mean?
Ugh. I don’t want to think about it.
“Ana,” Monstrat calls from the wall of wooden practice swords. He’s wearing black tactical clothing that’s close fitting to his body, but loose enough to allow for fighting.
This room is another thing that seemed so much smaller when there were ten of us descendants. Now that it’s just me it feels cavernous.
Monstrat checks the door behind me. “No dogs today?”
“No, sir.” I shake my head. “Max is taking care of them for me.”
“A brave friend indeed.” Monstrat selects a practice sword from the wall. “Go on then. Choose your weapon.”
With a sigh, I go to the wall and pluck a random sword from the hooks. The amount of knowledge I have about swordplay and hand-to-hand combat is about the same amount of knowledge I have about Underworld rats, which is to say none at all.
This is only my third day with Monstrat and already I feel like I’m failing.
“Why that sword?” he asks as he starts to circle me.
I shrug. “It looked the best?” I don’t tell him that I had secretly hoped the lighting bolt pattern on it would mean it was blessed by Zeus.
With a speed I can’t seem to match, Monstrat whirls behind me and whacks me on the shoulder with his sword.
“Ow!” I dance away as pain throbs into my bone. Clearly, if this sword is Zeus-blessed that magic is not transferring to me.
“You want to choose a weapon with good weight balance and good proportions for your size.”
He’s a blur again. There’s another whack on the back of my knee and I slam to the floor with a grumble as pain blinds me for one white-hot second.
“Up,” he says.
I rise to my feet.
“Choose a different sword.”
Face flush with frustration and embarrassment, I go back to the wall, hang up my sword and then scan what’s available. There’s a smaller sword on the left that’s about the length of my arm. I take it from its hooks and test its weight in my hand. It’s lighter and easier to slice through the air.
Is this what Monstrat is talking about?
Sword in hand, I join the professor in the middle of the gallery.
“Do you really think I can learn enough about fighting in this short amount of time to defeat Haven? Aren’t you surprised I’ve made it this far?”
Monstrat slows his speed and brings his sword down in an arch. I block it successfully and our wooden blades clack together.
“Surprised?” he echoes me as he darts back. “No. Absolutely not. You’ve been a contender since your very first day here. You possess something the others do not.”
“You mean boobs?”
He frowns at me, clearly disappointed in my perverse sarcasm.
To punish me for it, he swings his sword at my left side. I block it, but he steps into my personal space and kicks my knee, forcing me to the ground.
Gods-be-damned.
“Get up,” he says again.
With sweat now beading on my forehead, I climb to my feet.
“Hades has been impressed with your ability to survive,” Monstrat says. “Don’t let your sword droop. Keep command of your weapon. Hades respects adaptability, which you have. And tenacity. From the moment you survived the first trial, we could tell you were a fighter. And while the Knightfalls have long been favorites of this house, their line is not what it once was. Just between you and me, of course.”
This confession gives me an instant thrill. “Oh, of course, professor.”
He attacks. I block. Our blades clash and he pushes me back. Somehow I manage to stay on my feet.
“But the fight is not over yet.” His voice takes on an urgent tone. “And you still have to defeat Haven if you wish to ascend.”
He attacks again. He slows his pace so I can keep up. I’m not sure if he’s doing me a favor or a detriment. I don’t care enough to ask right now. I’m breathless and already achy. I’m no warrior.
Monstrat swings and catches me on the arm. A deep sting reverberates up my bones.
“Don’t let your guard down,” he warns and surges toward me.
I stop his next advance and sidestep him. I almost land a good blow to his ribs but he darts away at the last second and whacks me on the arm with the flat of his blade.
I hate failing at this. I hate that I’m no good. Even in my old, comfy life at Hestia’s House, I couldn’t perform the most basic of duties—picking flowers for the city. The bouquets withered in my hand from my uncontrolled power.
And now in Hades’s House, I’m not skilled enough to perform the most basic hand-to-hand combat and if I can’t do that, what the hell am I doing here? For one traitorous moment, my heart wishes I had been an orphan sent to Athena’s house—every girl in that place is a warrior from the moment they can walk.
With a frustrated growl, I surge forward, sword raised. Heat builds in my hands. The smell of charred wood and smoke permeates the air. Monstrat bends his knees, preparing for the blow. But just when I’m within swinging distance, he bends forward, catches my wrist and rolls me over his back, slamming me to the floor.
Stars dance in my eyes.
The magic, how little of it there was, retreats from my hands and returns to its source. But not without leaving behind a black handprint on the hilt of my practice sword.
“You won’t win in combat,” Monstrat says.
Humiliation curdles in my gut. “Thank you for your vote of confidence.”
Monstrat stands over me, hands on his hips. There’s a sheen of sweat on his forehead, but his breathing is even like he didn’t have to put in much effort at all. “Every champion must know her strengths and her weaknesses. You can beat Haven if you use your power, but you need to learn how to control it first. And once you do, you will finally be able to fight for what is rightly yours.”
Once the air returns to my lungs, I get to my feet and ask, “How can you possibly know what is rightly mine? I’m the daughter of no one, with unstable powers, who’s up against a competitor who has the legacy and lineage of this house behind him.”
“Exactly.” Monstrat wipes the sweat from his forehead with his shirtsleeve. “Do you not wonder how it is that a daughter of no one has bested all the competition
so far? Does that not tell you something about the lineage you must descend from? Whether you wish it or not, you are in this to the end, and it’s my job to prepare you so that you come out the champion.”
I start to argue with him again, but then stop.
I have made it this far. As much as it feels like a long shot, I’m absolutely dedicated to the idea of watching the smugness wiped from Haven’s face when he realizes he’s lost the one thing he thought was surely his.
“So what do I need to do to win the final trial? How do I get control of my power?”
“A minute ago, your magic came to your hands. What prompted it?”
“Frustration. Anger.”
He nods. “Emotion is your lever. You just need to get familiar with the mechanisms that switch it on and off without having to rely solely on your emotion. Once you can tap into your power at will, you will be unstoppable.”
For a split second, it looks as though Monstrat is elated at the idea. But just as quickly, it’s gone, replaced by his instructor’s cool indifference.
“That still doesn’t tell me how to actually do it.”
“Only you can know that.”
Exhaustion creeps along my limbs. “Can you at least give me a hint as to what the last trial is? Do I have a better shot at beating Haven with my power or my hands?”
“I can’t give you hints.”
“Then why am I here? How am I supposed to prepare without knowing what it is I’m to face? In the other trials, I was lucky, but if this is my last chance, I need to know what I’m walking in to.”
“As with all the trials, this one will be unknown until its not.”
I blow out an exasperated breath. “So glad I have your tutelage.”
Monstrat swings his sword around like he’s keeping his muscles warm for another attack. Sweat glistens in his dirty blond hair, but he isn’t winded like I am. “I can tell you that it will be a test not only of your strength, but also of your cunning and intelligence.”
Hestia-help me, I think, remembering the other trials and how the last thing I felt like I had was cunning or strength. These are skills that Haven has, not me. He’ll beat me even on his worst day.
But if I give up now, he’ll win anyway and I’m so fucking tired of him getting exactly what he wants with zero opposition.
I shove the hair out of my face. “Just tell me what I have to do to win and I’ll do it.”
Monstrat looks pleased at my change in demeanor. “We have two weeks to prepare you. It won’t be fun, but we’ll do what we can to turn you into a champion.” Monstrat goes to the pegged wall and puts his sword back. “Of course, two weeks is assuming Cronus doesn’t start a war before then.”
Cronus.
My heart stops in my chest.
Hades’s father. The Titan who escaped Tartarus whose plans are still unknown. The shadowmen Haven and I fought in the minotaur maze were apparently Cronus’s. We nearly died fighting them.
If those were only Cronus’s henchmen, I hate to think of how it would be to confront the Titan himself.
“If I win my trial,” I ask Monstrat, “will I be expected to join this war?”
“Of course.” He levels his gaze at me and something darkens in his eyes. “Everyone will be called to this war. The descendants of the gods and goddesses are destined for this. It will require those from every house to even have a chance at winning.”
“And what in all the Underworld would you possibly expect me to do if I happen to come up against Cronus? I’ll tell you what I’ll likely do—stand frozen and let him smite me on the spot.”
Monstrat sighs. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”
I go to the wall and, leaning against it, bend over at the waist, hands on my knees. As if the trial wasn’t enough to worry about… I completely forgot about Cronus for a hot second.
Do I even want to win now?
Yes. Yes, I very much do.
Only to show Haven how very much I can.
And, there’s another part of me that wonders if I do win, if Hades will finally claim me as his daughter.
“First of all,” Monstrat’s voice is suddenly low and urgent, “let’s get something straight—you didn’t hear anything from me about Cronus. Do you understand?
“Secondly, what I can and will tell you is that you will not be expected to confront Cronus yet, so worry not. What you need to focus on now is your trial.”
“Which I know nothing about. Other than the fact that it will test my cunning and strength, of which I have neither.”
He comes over to me and urges me to straighten.
“Forget about that. Given that your advantage in the past two trials was related to your ability to outthink your opponents, I would strongly suggest we dedicate additional time to honing your mental powers. That will give you the edge you need.”
I narrow my eyes. “How do you know what I did in the last two trials?”
When Haven took credit, no one spoke against him so I assumed everyone believed him.
“Ana,” Monstrat says and gives me a look like I’m being obtuse.
“What?”
“Do you truly think that Hades and I were basing our analysis of the trials on the word of a Knightfall?”
“Actually, yes, I did think that. They do seem to be beloved of this house.”
“By some maybe,” Monstrat says dismissively. “But Hades—all the gods—are facing an impending war. Hades needs a champion to emerge that will stand by his side to face said challenges and an old hero is no match for a new monster.”
“What does that even mean?”
“It’s an old saying many attribute to the Fates. It means this is a new world, with new problems. Old solutions won’t work.”
“And if I’m not the new solution Hades needs?”
Monstrat stares directly into my eyes, holding my stare with his. “You can do this, Ana. You were born for this and destiny is a path from which you will not stray if you stay true.”
“How can you possibly know what I was born for?” I ask again, mirroring my earlier argument, but with much less anger this time.
“Because the old ways are changing and you, Ana, are something new.”
Chapter 3
Every bone and muscle and hair on my body aches from the session with Monstrat. He might be a professor, but he fights like a soldier and has the corded muscle to go along with it.
After he finally took mercy on me and dismissed me, I left the gallery and took a long, hot shower. I was the only one in the bathroom and it was blessedly silent and still. Now that it’s just Haven and me, I don’t have to worry much about running into another guy in the shower.
And still…when I’m beneath the stream of hot water, I can’t help but think about Haven. About his mouth on mine.
Goddammit.
I hate him.
I hate him so much.
Why can’t I banish his stupid face from my mind? Why does the thought of him pop up like every five minutes like a damn divine weed?
After I’m dry and dressed, I braid my hair into one long braid and trudge back to my room. I find Max there standing watch over the dogs, though watch is a bit of an overstatement. He’s mostly just standing witness to their destruction of my room.
“Sorry,” Max says, looking half-harassed, half-terrified.
I barely have the energy to say, “It’s all right,” and then Max is slipping out the door with an, “Okay, bye,” tossed over his shoulder.
The room is a mess. There’s a broken lamp in the corner. The table is knocked over. A door hangs from one hinge on my wardrobe. There’re feathers all over the floor and one very mutilated pillow beneath the bed.
“You guys were bad dogs,” I say, but that’s about all the scolding I can muster. I don’t even bother trying to clean up the mess. Besides, I think the staff here has some kind of magical ability to snap their fingers and repair whatever damage is done. Just days ago, I burned a hole straight through my floo
r and when I came back to my room later, the hole was gone as if it’d never happened.
But magically cleaning the mess can wait.
At least the bed is intact.
I climb up on the mattress with a grimace and then collapse on my back. Thank the gods, the dogs left one pillow untouched and the down-filling feels like a cloud beneath my head.
Tarter and Russ leap onto the bed and curl up alongside my legs. I scratch absently at their ears.
“Monstrat thinks I can win this,” I say to them. “What do you guys think?”
Russ opens one eye and gives me a blank stare. Tarter pretends he didn’t hear me.
The thing is, sometimes I believe I can win. And when we were in that maze, and I was fighting those shadowmen, I felt it. I felt how powerful I was. In that moment, I was capable of anything.
So how do I get that confidence back?
Me, the girl who sprouted from a damn cabbage?
And how the hell do I destroy Haven Knightfall when I hate him and also sorta don’t?
I grumble in frustration. Tarter huffs his agreement.
Now that I’m in a comfortable spot, with two furnaces flanking my legs, I’m suddenly more tired than I’ve ever been. I only have two weeks before the last trial. Probably I should take the opportunity to rest as much as I can, right?
Except, I make the mistake of drifting off to sleep with Haven’s name still on my mind.
When I wake, the dogs are gone.
Instead, I feel the heat of something else and when I open my eyes, I see Haven looking up at me from the space between my legs.
He’s limned in early morning light.
He’s so ridiculously beautiful it makes my head hurt.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“I missed you,” he says.
It hurts more to hear his confession than it does to look at him.
I want him to miss me.
I want to know that my avoiding him has somehow cut him the way he cut me in the infirmary, when he took credit for stopping the shadowmen.
I want to say it back to him. Because the truth is, I’ve missed him too.
Vicious Champion (Games of the Gods Book 2) Page 2