The seating arrangement restricted any chance for normal conversation due to the distance between the chairs. Unfortunately, the blonde sat next to me and immediately started yelling down the table to talk to me. Her name was Nikki Starr, and she was an actress. It was hard to keep myself from asking what kind of actress, considering how much of her was on display. She was here to get the funding to produce her own movie. Mumbling a few polite replies, I mostly focused on my food.
Twenty minutes of nonstop chatter later and my head was aching. Somehow, Nikki had managed to eat two heaping plates of food in the midst of all that talking. I would kill for her metabolism. Maybe running your mouth that much burned up the calories.
Something was happening with the guides on the other side of the table, but Busty Bigmouth—as I now called her—was ruining my chances of hearing anything. The giant guide stood at the end of the table with a goblet in hand, leading what appeared to be some sort of toast. The other guides lifted their black goblets in the air and shouted something in unison before sipping their drinks. My stomach was becoming uncomfortably full in my attempts to avoid a conversation with Busty. Eventually, she had to run out of things to talk about, right?
No, I don’t want to know about your cousin’s childbirth. That’s it, bring on the bourbon.
Two shots later and not even Busty could harsh my mellow. Seeing that her audience had drunk herself into a state of blissful oblivion, she set her sights on the person on her other side. The Geek. Oh no, not flirty Busty on top of the chattering. Poor kid, she would eat him alive.
A sigh escaped me as I snuggled back into my chair, feeling deliciously relaxed. From my half-closed lids, I studied the occupants at the table. We were an odd group. Not only in appearance but in personality. What brought this particular group of people together at this point in time? Life was funny. It could lead you down some interesting roads. Here I was in the middle of an island that had never been on any map that I had ever seen. Surrounded by these beautiful people that I didn’t know. Participating in a game that I knew next to nothing about. As strange as it was, at that moment it felt like this was exactly where I was supposed to be. Why had I been so worried about coming here?
Dia would really like it here. But she was keeping an eye on my gallery. The mess waiting for me back home stole some of my comfy buzz. Molly’s worried look sobered me even more. Drunk wasn’t the first impression I was going for. I poured a glass of water and sipped it to clear my head.
The giant was standing once again at the end of the table. Busty quickly stopped talking when his dark gaze pinned her down. Huh, that was a neat trick. Maybe he would teach me.
“Good evening. My name is Devon Harris. I am the Kafàli—or Leader—of the guides.” His deep rumbling voice filled the room. “Your guides are here to provide you with what information they can to navigate you through the Games. Heed their advice. They will never be allowed to physically interfere in the Games unless permission is given by the Kyrion. That has never happened.” He looked at each of the contestants, his black eyes hard and assessing. “It is almost time for us to ascend to the throne room.”
He nodded to the guides, and they moved to stand behind their contestant’s chair. “Each guide wears a symbol. No doubt you have seen these symbols elsewhere throughout the day. These symbols represent the six Houses that host these Games. The Kyrion are the rulers of these Houses. All who bear their mark are considered to be under their protection as a representative of that House.” His piercing gaze told us all that that this was a special privilege that we weren’t worthy of. “You—the contestants—are called Potentials. This means you are the uninitiated champions who have been selected for the Houses. You will be presented to the Kyrion as such for their acknowledgment. They may offer you assistance during the Games, but it is not guaranteed. There are three restrictions placed upon the Kyrion during the Games. Those you will learn in time.”
Devon nodded again to the guides. “Your Kyrion have gifted you each with a symbol as the Potential for their House. You must always wear this item while on this island.”
Molly’s hand appeared in front of my face. Resting on her palm was a torque necklace. The band on this one was much thinner than any the guides wore and had a symbol—almost as large as her palm—of an arrow with intricate silver wings spread wide. Molly bent down and whispered next to my ear. “Put it on and never take it off. It will keep you safe.” My gaze searched hers for a moment, waiting for the joke. Safe from what? How could a necklace keep you safe? She must have seen the questions coming because she shook her head. “I can’t tell you. Just trust me,” she whispered.
Trust. That was in short supply these days. Molly’s expression shone with genuine hope, and her eyes were filled with a silent plea. My hand hesitated above hers. There had been an instant connection with Molly since the first moment of our meeting as if we had known each other forever. I had felt more confident about my decision to be here because she was by my side. It seemed she had already wormed her way in without me even noticing.
Picking up the torque, I placed it around my neck. A sudden wave of dizziness rushed over me. My hand smacked the table, causing a clatter as I braced myself. Deep down inside me, a fissure formed, and something slipped from the crack. It moved along my skin, leaving goose bumps in its wake as it coated me from head to toe. Everyone was staring as I fought to gain some equilibrium. Damn it, I was the center of attention again.
Molly loomed over me, brow furrowed and hands poised, ready to grab me if I fell over. Luckily the sensation passed. My shaky smile must not have been too convincing because her hand gripped my shoulder tightly. When nothing else happened the attention quickly shifted back to the Kafàli.
Devon leaned over the table, eyeing each contestant. His intense gaze lingered on me longer than the others, as if he was searching for something. Whatever reaction I’d had to putting on the necklace seemed to have passed. The silence stretched on. Moments later he straightened up as if satisfied with the outcome.
“The symbol is your calling card. It will assist you if you let it. Once you have taken your oath, your guide will provide more information. We will make our way to the throne room now. Stand on your symbol in silence until you are acknowledged.” He looked harshly at Busty as he said that last part, and I fought to suppress a smile. “When you are called upon, address yourselves to the Kyrion as Potential and your full name. Then repeat the words they ask you to say.” Devon nodded again to the guides. “It’s time to meet the Kyrion.”
9
The elevator ride to the top of the tower was made in silence. The others looked to be feeling as nervous as I was. Even Busty kept her mouth shut. The guides stood stoically by us with their heads bowed and hands folded before them, as if preparing themselves for something monumental. I started worrying about cults again.
Don’t go there. You decided to trust Molly. Besides, it’s a bit late to be getting cold feet.
Finally, the elevator came to rest. We stepped out into a small round stone room with dim sconces flickering along the wall. The guides walked us toward an opening to a long hallway and began to line us up in some order that made sense only to them. When they were satisfied with our placement, they paired up with us, and we all began to walk down the hallway.
I kept wanting to catch a glimpse of the other contestants’ faces as we walked. Did they feel as creeped out as I was? Unfortunately, being at the back of the line didn’t offer me the opportunity to gauge their reactions to this silent pilgrimage. Not that the dim light from the sconces would have let me see much anyway.
We walked for what seemed an hour before the hall curved to the left and a wide stone staircase appeared. The line halted and the first pair ascended the stairs. I fingered the material of my skirt as we waited. Pair by pair, the guides and contestants went up the steps until Molly and I were the only ones left. Molly silently clutched my clammy hand. I was tempted to cling to her but instead gave a squeeze in re
turn before we too headed up the stairs.
The steps curved further around to the left in a gradual incline. Soon a large square opening at the top of lit our way. It took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the brightness after having been in the dim hall. When they did, they were immediately drawn to the place where the rough stone of the hallway gave way to smooth marble. There was something different about the wall there.
My pace picked up as a full three-dimensional relief sculpture in the elegant and sensuous grace of the Greek Hellenistic period came into view. The scene depicted a giant man giving people gifts that looked like the symbols the guides wore. Then the man was being attacked by twelve men and woman with various weapons. The next scene showed a star-like symbol split in two and all of the people fighting. My toe caught the step in my haste, and I would have face-planted if Molly hadn’t caught my arm. I glanced at her in thanks, and she arched her eyebrow at me as if to say “pay attention.” I nodded.
With difficulty, I managed to keep my focus on getting to the top of the staircase. When we stepped out onto a beige polished marble floor, my mouth dropped open in awe.
No way!
My breath caught in my throat as I gazed upon a familiar scene. I had been dreaming of this platform of thrones since I was ten. This can’t be real. The bizarre sense of déjà vu made the hairs stand up on my arms and the torches along the walls suddenly flared higher. Molly gripped my arm, and they immediately died down.
The room was a vast open circle, easily twice the size of the contestant floors. Sculptures and friezes ringed the entire room. One sculpture showed a group of young feminine-looking men fighting around a crumbling throne. A frieze showed a three-headed dog ripping apart a nude woman and her child. A rotunda ceiling, at least two stories above our heads, surrounded a central opening through which moonlight poured. Across from where we stood, several steps led up to a large platform. In the middle of the platform against a solid white wall stood a giant statue. The Greek style of the statue most likely made him a god of some kind, but I couldn’t remember one from my art classes that looked like that.
Long hair floated in a vortex around his face, obscuring all but the eyes, which peered back at me as solid white orbs. It could have been the moonlight reflecting on the black marble, but it looked like stars were glowing all over his muscular nude body. He was poised with his arms bent and held out to his sides, palms up, as if gesturing to the sets of three sculptures on either side of him. All six were much bigger than the others in the room and the only others bearing any color. They depicted what appeared to be gods and goddesses each holding the familiar symbols of the Houses. In front of each sculpture was a large black throne. Upon each, a person sat at attention, faces hidden behind hooded robes in colors matching the symbols.
Molly nudged me forward. When we were about two-thirds of the way across the room we stepped into a circle on the floor that looked like a picture of outer space. White stars twinkled against the black background toward the edges of the circle, and a riot of colors that looked like a nebula took up the center. The colors were so vibrant that the nebula appeared to undulate beneath our feet.
Six black rays spread out from the circle and ended at the base of the steps directly in front of each throne. It looked very similar to the image that had appeared on my laptop when I submitted my application. Each contestant stood on the colored symbol at the end of the ray in front of one of the thrones. I started to head toward the only open spot to the far right, but Molly stopped me with her hand on my arm. Following her lead, I bowed my head and waited.
“So nice of you to join us. Perhaps you would like to go ahead and forfeit the Games to stare at the decorations a bit more?” A deep male voice filled the room and seemed to boom from every direction at once. “Well?” the voice barked when I didn’t answer.
Hairs stood up on my arms. A shiver raced down my spine. That voice was potent. My mouth felt dry as the Sahara. With a struggle, I managed to unglue my tongue to croak out, “No . . . sir?” What exactly did you call someone who sat on a throne in a hooded robe—besides creepy? I doubted they would appreciate my gallows humor.
“You do not sound very sure.” The voice now seemed to be coming from the figure in the black robe to the immediate left of the black marble statue. “Are you dimwitted as well as disrespectful?” it mocked.
A feminine laugh issued from under the white hood at the far left.
Shock at his rudeness finally knocked me out of my daze. Oh, so the Manson family has a sense of humor. Good for them, but I’d had just about enough of people’s nasty remarks. Straightening my spine, I raised my head to stare at whoever was under that black hood.
“I simply admire good workmanship when I see it. You appear to have an impressive collection of Late Classical Greek sculpture that, if I didn’t know better, could have been carved by Praxiteles himself. But then what would a dimwitted girl like me know about that?”
Molly drew in a sharp breath as silence filled the room. What the hell was that? It was as if my mouth was possessed. Nothing to do now but own it. I propped my hands on my hips and glared at each hooded figure as if I wasn’t shaking inside. Way to make a lasting first impression. Did they give out a prize for the quickest time a contestant was ejected from the Games?
“I think my Potential is feeling a bit overwhelmed. A good night’s sleep will probably help her put things into perspective. So, can we move this along?” The amused male voice came from the throne on the far right.
Thanks for the save, red hood. Even if you did imply that I learn my place.
When no one responded immediately, he added in a teasing voice, “I meant—may we proceed with the ceremony, my brother?”
A smirk tugged up one corner of my lips before I could control it. Uh oh, someone was poking fun at their ceremony. Guess I wasn’t the only rule breaker.
“Take your place, Potential,” the rude male in black clipped out.
Molly and I walked along the last unoccupied black ray until we stood on the symbol of the flying arrow. Molly stepped in front of me in a similar position to the other guides. By some unspoken signal, the guides all began to speak as one.
“I come to you, a servant of your House, to offer the pledge of this Potential. May they be fleet of foot, wise in judgment, brave of heart, and loyal of character. The die is cast!”
There was a rustling sound, but I couldn’t see what was happening from my position. “Ruler of the House of Night, I gift you a champion.”
“What is your name, boy?” The white robed female demanded.
“Chris—I mean, Potential Christopher Erickson,” one of the male contestants—the Geek—replied.
“And do you, Potential Erickson, consider yourself a worthy champion for my House?”
“I—yes, I think so,” Chris said hesitantly.
“Humph. We shall see,” the voice proclaimed, clearly less than impressed with her gift. “I accept what fate intends, Potential Erickson of the House of Night. You may call me Nyx, and I will answer.”
A moment of silence enveloped the hall. Then all of a sudden Molly kneeled to the floor and addressed the figure on the throne before us. “Ruler of the House of Arrows, I gift you a champion.”
“What’s your name, little lioness?” the amused male voice from earlier asked.
“Potential Jillian Davies,” I stated, trying to catch a peek at who might be under that red hood.
“Ah, a lovely name for a lovely lady. Do you consider yourself a worthy champion for my House, Jillian?”
“I’ll certainly give it my best shot.”
A chuckle escaped from beneath the hood. Then long masculine fingers gripped the edges and pulled it back to reveal a gorgeous smiling face. One that had graced the cover of billboards and magazines. I couldn’t believe I was staring up into the face of one of the most famous male models in the industry, or so the latest issue of People magazine claimed. His blond hair fell in loose waves to his shoulders to f
rame his lightly tanned face. His midnight blue eyes sparkled with humor, and his full lips were pulled into a sensual smile.
“Oh, I have no doubt, my little lioness.” He winked at me. “I accept what fate intends and look forward to the ride, Potential Davies of the House of Arrows. You may call me Eros, and I will answer.”
One by one the guides alternated sides “gifting” their contestants and the Kyrion accepting them. My fixation on the gorgeous man upon the throne before me prevented me from catching the others’ names. He was practically a celebrity. And his name was definitely not “Eros.” What was he doing hiding under a robe on this remote island? Was this some kind of role-playing group? He sat slumped back in his throne, knees spread wide, that same look of amusement still plastered on his face as if all of this was a show put on for his entertainment.
Dragging my attention away from the eye candy, I saw that five of the people on the thrones had revealed themselves. There were three men and two women, all of them beautiful beyond belief. Yet there was something about these people that had my guard up and senses tingling.
I shifted my stance trying to find a comfortable position. My movement caught Eros’s attention, and he quirked a brow at me. My gaze must have looked askance because his eyes dipped to the floor then back to mine. Was he trying to tell me something?
I glanced down. Oh, that.
During the time I had been contemplating the Kyrion I had unknowingly edged back until my feet barely touched the symbol on the floor. Goosebumps were standing up along my arms. Rubbing them, I stepped back onto the symbol, nodding at Eros in thanks. My gaze got lost momentarily on all that beautiful maleness. The devil actually winked at me. Heat bloomed in my cheeks and traveled down my chest at my inability to control my wandering eyes. His chest shook with silent laughter, and I ducked my head.
Paldimori Gods Rising Box Set Page 8