“I just think it’s time he claims me as his daughter. I’ve made it to the last trial. Why hold out any longer?”
Sura turns the dough.
“He put my name in the box for the Choosing Ceremony. I mean, why pretend anymore?”
Sura shakes flour onto the dough’s surface and rubs it in.
“Sura, do you remember when Hestia found me in the garden? Do you know anything about my parents?” I had meant to broach this subject casually as if the question and the resulting answer mattered hardly at all. But there’s a pleading tone in my voice that I can’t hide. If this is my last chance to speak to Sura or anyone at Hestia’s House, I want to know. “What about my mother? Who is she?”
Sura is quiet for a long moment, rolling and twisting what will likely be the festival’s centerpiece—a large, knotted cake with sugared berries on top.
Finally, she sighs. “There’re some mysteries in this life that are not meant to be known.”
I catch myself about to roll my eyes and bite back the weariness. “My last trial is tomorrow,” I say. “If I lose, Sura, no one will remember me. I may not even survive. This is my last chance to learn of who I am and who I’m supposed to be.”
My voice shakes with desperation. Now that I’m here, I’m realizing just what’s at stake. I still don’t know what will happen tomorrow, or if given the choice, what decision I’ll make about it, but this…my identity…this is more important than anything.
Sura wipes off her hands on the towel hooked to her belt. She comes around the table and takes my face in her grasp. “My child, you are already exactly who you are supposed to be.”
Tears prick at my eyes and the edges of my vision blur. There’s warmth and kindness in Sura’s gaze. I always took Sura for granted while here in Hestia’s House. I chafed beneath her rules and was annoyed at her fondness for tradition. But now I realize she’s the closest thing I’ve ever had to a real mother.
When I skinned my knee playing in the garden, it was Sura who cleaned the wound. When I lost my favorite bracelet playing hide and seek in the house, it was Sura who hunted for it late into the night and found it.
I already had a mother all along.
When a tear escapes me now, Sura swipes it away. Her expression turns into a frown.
“I know what it feels like to wish to be claimed,” she says. “But I cannot give you what you wish, sweet girl.” She pushes a lock of my hair behind my ear. “However…” Her gaze goes distant as if she’s weighing something. “There is…something,” she says finally. “Something that might help.” She nods once, mind made up. “Come and I’ll show you.”
She turns and walks soundlessly out of the kitchen and I hesitate for only a moment before I follow her down the hall. We pass the open doors to the garden, where the younger girls play a game and my chest aches at the memories that it brings, of the friends I will miss and the young ones I will not be here to see grow. It doesn’t matter if I win or lose my last trial, I will never get this back.
Sura continues down the hall until we reach the door at the end that leads to Hestia’s study. Sura reaches into her apron pocket and pulls out the long, silver, skeleton key that she uses to open every door in the house. As children, Clea and I were forbidden from entering this room and now that I’m at the threshold, I have a hard time crossing over it.
“Shut the door behind you,” Sura says as she hurries over to Hestia’s large armoire.
I do as she instructs, hands trembling the whole time.
If Hestia catches us, will we be in trouble? Am I pulling Sura into my troubles by asking her for answers?
With the same skeleton key, Sura unlocks one of the armoire’s drawers. She reaches inside and pulls out a large package wrapped in silk. Sura takes it over to Hestia’s desk and sets it down gently.
I stand beside her as she carefully opens the silk to reveal a large, fraying book with gold lettering and symbols etched into its dark leather cover.
Immediately I sense magic on the air. It’s a tingling on my tongue like the fizzy candies sold at the confectioner’s. “What is this?” I ask.
Sura runs her hand over the markings on the leather front. “This,” she says softly as she pulls back the cover, “is one of Hestia’s most treasured books. A collection of prophesies from the time of the creation of the written word. It was gifted to her by one of the first oracles, a woman named Lopatia.”
I forget sometimes just how old Hestia is, how old all the gods are. They’ve been around for thousands of years and there hasn’t been a new god or goddess since.
As Sura carefully turns through the pages, the paper rasps. I worry they might just burst into dust at the slightest provocation.
Sura finally stops midway through the book and gestures for me to look.
There’s a sketch of a beautiful garden with flowers and vines intertwined around just one line of text.
“The stories will tell, the ballads will be sung, of the girl who sprouted from the earth beneath the stars and the sun, for she shall be the dawn of a new era in Olympus.”
It’s an echo of the letter Hestia wrote me just days after I survived my first trial.
“…I suspect your future will be worthy of an epic ballad and I look forward to the day that I will hear it sung.”
Those were her exact words.
“Are you trying to tell me…that this is a prophecy about me?”
Sura smiles at me, her eyes glassy as she says, “Hestia and I have long believed that you were set upon the path of greatness from the start. That your destiny would be one for the ages.”
After Hestia revealed the truth of where I’d been found, I kinda figured Sura must have known too. She was always harping on me to take extra good care of the prized cabbage in the garden.
But this is the first time Sura has admitted she knew.
“I didn’t exactly sprout from the earth, Sura. I was cast out like unwanted garbage.”
“Are you so sure?” she says.
I furrow my brow. “What are you getting at? You can’t possibly believe the cabbage birthed me.” I laugh at the absurdity, but Sura is serious now. She clearly believes it and when she believes something, there’s no arguing with her.
I decide not to even try. Instead I say, “This path I’m on, it doesn’t feel like I’m headed toward greatness.”
It doesn’t feel like I’m headed toward anything. And the truth is, I’m just tired.
I’m tired of feeling like I have no control over my destiny.
In the maze, Haven said I was lucky because my family didn’t decide my fate, because I was free to choose what I wanted out of life, but that’s no more true for me than it is him.
I feel like a leaf trapped in a river current, unable to control anything about where I’m going.
And the most frustrating thing is I can’t seem to get a straight answer out of anyone. Not Hades, not Hestia, not Sura, not even the gods-be-damned Fates.
Sura carefully shuts the book and ties it into its silk wrapping before depositing it back into the armoire. She locks it and then guides me back into the hallway. “Take heart, my child, that the Fates know exactly where your path leads.”
I sigh and say nothing. There’s nothing to say.
None of this has helped me. As always, in my pursuit of answers, I’ve managed only to uncover more questions.
If this is a game, I’m almost glad it’s going to be over soon.
I just wish I felt more like a player in a game of my own, and less like a pawn in everyone else’s.
Chapter 19
Though I wanted to wait for Clea and Marigold to say goodbye, after Sura’s revelation, all I want to do is go home.
And how odd it is to think of home as Hades’s House.
As the sun sets in the distance, I trudge back to the house. The late evening rays paint Lake Nisa in splashes of gold and pink and orange. Swans fly over the lake’s surface honking at one another while a group of kids skip r
ocks from the eastern bank near the statue of Zeus depicted in battle.
By the time I come around to the shadow side of Mount Olympus, the sun has already dipped below the horizon and torches flicker on the path leading up to Hades’s House. Two guards are stationed at the front doors. They weren’t there when I left.
A sense of foreboding washes over me.
“Evening, Hearthtender,” one of the guards says as the other man opens the door for me.
“Everything all right?” I ask and pause on the landing.
“Everything is fine.” He smiles at me and tips his head in respect.
I don’t think he’s being truthful. Either that or he doesn’t actually know why he’s positioned at the front door.
I head inside and find it’s bustling with activity. Staff run here and there preparing for what, I don’t know. Since my life might be about to end here in Olympus anyway, I decide I don’t care and go to the dining hall to bury my head in food. While I missed Sura’s sweet cakes, now that several are digesting in my stomach, I feel worse for it. I need something substantial to soak up all that sugar.
Never thought I’d say that.
I round into the hallway that leads to the dining room when I hear Haven’s voice inside.
Since he and I are the only descendants left, I can only guess who he’s speaking to. I stop at the cracked double doors and peer inside.
Haven is finishing off a bowl of stew while Nereus paces beside the table, arms crossed over his chest.
“We have to find out what the Fates told the orphan,” Nereus says.
“Why?” Haven challenges. “They already told me what we need to know.”
I slide out of sight of the door’s crack, but keep my ear trained toward their conversation hoping that Haven reveals exactly what the Fates told him.
My heart pounds in my chest. This might actually help me.
“Why?” Nereus echoes. “Because her very presence in this trial is circumspect. There’s more going on here that we don’t know about and having that piece of information will help us moving forward.”
Haven grumbles. “I tire of this game.”
There’s a jostling of silverware. I take another peek and see Nereus bent over Haven, his hands flat on the table. “This isn’t a game, Haven! This is your future. The future of the Knightfall dynasty. The future of Hades’s House. The future of fucking Olympus! Cronus is closing in and I don’t want to have to worry about an orphan leading an army into a battle she’s ill-equipped to face. I need you at the helm. Do you understand me?”
Haven looks over at Nereus, jaw flexing with irritation. “I know what’s at stake.”
“Then do what you must and stop fucking whining about it.”
When Nereus paces away again, Haven’s shoulders drop a fraction as if some of the tension has leaked out of him.
“Find out what the Fates told the girl.”
“And how do you propose I do that?”
Nereus gives a dismissive wave of his hand. “She’s clearly infatuated with you.”
My mouth drops open. I am not, thank you very much!
I almost burst into the dining hall to tell Nereus and Haven just how very not infatuated I am. But no, that would be stupid. Gotta play the chess game.
Nereus paces back around and stops at the table. “Seduce her as you’ve done before. When she’s purring like a kitten, she’ll tell you whatever you want to know.”
Haven stares at his bowl and says nothing.
“Time is running out,” Nereus says as he heads for the opposite door. “Get it done before the trial, or I’ll get it done for you.”
What does that mean?
I steal one more look at Haven. I can’t stay here long—I don’t want to risk running into Nereus if he happens to come this way—but I want to know what Haven’s thinking. I want to read the expression on his face.
When I take another look though, Haven is turned away from the door and is staring out the dark window to the garden. All I can see is the furrowing of his brow and the grit of his teeth.
I know Haven doesn’t like doing what his brother tells him to do, but I also know that in the past, he’s never gone against his brother’s words.
And now it makes me wonder…was our intimacy on the mountain a ploy? Did Nereus tell Haven to do that too?
I turn away from the door and hurry back to my room, the cakes in my stomach suddenly feeling like rocks. If Haven Knightfall thinks he can seduce me to get what he wants, he’s got another thing coming.
He shows up at my door less than an hour later.
When the knock comes, I leap off the bed and Tarter and Russ lurch upright and sniff at the air.
They don’t bark. They go on point on either side of me like the good little guard dogs they are.
Heart racing in my chest, I pull the door open. I expect Haven to be loose and charming, but he’s tense and guarded.
“Hey,” I say.
“Hey,” he says. He lingers at the threshold. “May I come in?”
Do I turn him away now or later? I decide there might be an opportunity to get some information out of him, so I let him in. Tarter and Russ mob him and he ducks down to let them lick his face.
“Gross,” I say, but I’m laughing as I plop down on the edge of the bed. It hasn’t been that long since we last saw him, but the dogs are acting like it’s been weeks.
When Haven straightens, he snaps his fingers and the dogs heel. He comes over and sits beside me. Our knees bump together and it sends a thrill down my spine. My traitorous, traitorous spine.
I think I understand Tarter and Russ a little more because everything in my head says to keep my shit together, but my body is like…yeah, take me. Take ME NOW.
I shouldn’t have let him in because now that he’s here, I don’t want him to leave.
“Max said you left earlier,” Haven says. “You go home?”
“Hestia’s, yeah.”
“You get to say goodbye to Clea?”
“No.” I fold my hands into my lap like I need to restrain them or there’s no telling what they might do. “Clea wasn’t home, but I got to see Sura.” And got more than I bargained for. “What about you?” I say, fishing for details. “You see anyone?”
“Just my brother.”
“How is he?”
“As insufferable as always.” There’s an unmistakable growl to his voice.
“What’d he do this time?”
Tell me the truth, Haven.
I want to trust you.
Just tell me the truth.
“I won’t bore you with it,” he says. He doesn’t look at me when he says it. He’s hunched over, elbows on his knees.
My hope deflates. The little bit of faith I had in him is gone like ash caught in the wind.
I’m not angry about it, I realize. I’m sad. Sad for him and sad for me. I wanted to believe that we could figure this thing out together and find a way to both win.
Now I know that’s impossible. But of course it is.
I should have known better.
Haven Knightfall will never go against his brother. His reputation is too important.
Haven isn’t my partner. He’s my opponent. And I keep forgetting that.
Maybe Haven even likes me, to some degree, but that will always pale in comparison to his duty to his family.
“Ana.” Haven reaches over and takes my hand in his. His is warm and solid.
What I want right now isn’t to tear his clothes off and drag him into my bed. What I want is to go for a walk with him through the garden and hold his hand and let that be enough.
Does he know that? Has he known all along how to pull my strings?
I lurch upright and yank my hand away.
My heart is beating in my chest and my stomach is full of butterflies.
I’m on dangerous ground.
We go to our last trial tomorrow.
I don’t want to have these feelings about him.
We can’t be friends. We can’t be anything.
“Don’t,” I say as tears well in my eyes.
He stands next to me, a frown on his face. “Don’t what?”
“What’s the point in this? Come tomorrow, one of us will lose.” I gesture between us. “Let’s not make it any harder.”
“Come tomorrow, Ana…” He trails off, jaw clenched. “If tomorrow is the last day I have with you, then I want to spend tonight with you.”
I shake my head. “So you can find out what the Fates told me?”
I see the moment he realizes I overheard him and his brother. He flinches and rocks back. “You know, you would make an excellent spy, orphan. You excel at eavesdropping.”
“It’s not like I meant to!”
“And yet here we are.”
“Isn’t that why you’re here? Because your brother told you to come?”
He shakes his head. “I’m here because I want to be with you. I’m here because tomorrow, you will lose. I’m being a hundred percent upfront with you. You want to know what the Fates told me? It’s that.” His good eye flashes with defiance. “Tomorrow, I will win the trial.”
I go still as I digest this news. Is it just another strategy he’s playing? Maybe he’s just trying to get beneath my skin.
Except…when he came out of the cave…what we did…it almost seemed like he was relieved. Like he knew his future and therefore could relax and take what he wanted from me.
And why not try to get into my pants when he knew in a matter of days, he’d forget about me?
Oh gods.
The realization hits me like a bad batch of stew. I suddenly want to vomit.
Here I was worrying over what the Fates told me and whether or not it meant Haven would die in the mortal realm, but they just told me a hypothetical. If Haven went to the mortal realm, he wouldn’t survive.
But now I know it won’t come to that.
This really is my last day on Olympus.
This proves my suspicions—I never had a choice at all. I was delusional to think I did.
I fucking hate this place. I hate that my destiny is not my own.
Vicious Champion (Games of the Gods Book 2) Page 11