The people around me gasp, mortals and gods alike. I briefly wonder if anyone would care if my body was returned to the Order.
“Now, champions,” Zeles continues, “you can choose not to play, and your patron god or goddess will select another in your place.”
I turn sharply to Hades, mouth open, ready to opt out. “I—”
He shakes his head, then tells me in a lowered voice, “The last person who tried to pass on playing in the Crucible…Ares selected that man’s daughter instead.”
There’s no one truly close to me he could choose, but even so, I close my mouth on a slow, silent sigh. Message received. Everyone knows that saying no to a deity never ends well for mortals.
No one else declines the “honor.”
“Excellent,” Zeles says. “Any questions?”
Where do I even start?
But the other champions shake their heads, so I don’t speak up. It’s probably smarter to wait and ask Hades when we’re alone anyway.
“Without further ado, I open this century’s Crucible,” Zeles declares. “Champions, prepare for your first Labor. It starts now.”
12
I Never Was Any Good At Tests
I sit ramrod straight in my chair. Now? No time to digest this? Or get ready? Mentally prepare? Just…go play and hope you don’t die.
They aren’t kidding around.
Zeles folds his wings tighter against his body. “This first Labor is more of a challenge to get you started. It is not one of the twelve in which you will compete against one another… And this is the only Labor in the Crucible in which every single one of you has the chance to win.”
He lets that sink in a second.
I’m still stuck on the fact that we’re starting immediately.
“And you want to win this one,” he says. “Those of you who play well will earn two gifts from your patron—one relic and one skill or attribute—both of which you can use to assist you through the rest of the Crucible.”
Zeles claps, and the space around the tables of decadent food is instantly filled with a thousand glittering artifacts of all shapes, sizes, and types, placed and piled all around the platform, even up on the wide balcony rails. It’s so cluttered that it looks like an antique shop vomited.
“Champions…hidden somewhere on this platform is a token, an item that you and you alone must find. A different one for each of you.” Zeles looks us over. “When you find it, you will be taken farther into Olympus…” He waves up the sweeping staircase. “Along with your patron. When you reach your god or goddess, you win the challenge, and they will bestow upon you their two gifts.”
It can’t be that easy. Can it?
“If you do not reach your patron inside Olympus within the hour…” The Daemon points to a sundial on the floor at our feet. “Then you forfeit your gifts.”
Ah. There’s the catch. Not getting magical gifts when the others do would be a serious deficit to start with. That sits with me about as comfortably as sitting here between gods.
I glance at Hades, who I find watching me—studying me, more like. Trying to figure out if I’m smart enough for this little test? Only, he’s not allowed to help me now, is he? And, news flash, I haven’t trained or been tested by the Order in years—and didn’t do well when I was. I’m not sure how my skills as an office clerk are going to help much, either.
My shoulders sink. He picked the wrong damn champion.
Hades’ hand reaches for mine, lifting it up and placing it to rest on the arm of his chair, our fingers intertwined for all to see. So I know this is another little show for the others.
It’s working. To my right, I can see the open-mouthed shock on Dionysus’ face.
Hades’ silky voice curls around me, seeping into my muscles and tightening them like rachets with every word. “Don’t worry, my star. I’ll keep you safe, and this test is cryptic, but there will be signs to help you along the way.”
“Enough of that,” Zeus snaps at Hades.
Even Zeles looks a little thrown, his wings twitching. Given where my hand is perched, I don’t blame him. None of the other gods or goddesses are screwing around with their champions this way. Then again, I think that’s the point.
Hades chuckles darkly but holds up his other hand in a gesture of supposed surrender. “I won’t say more.”
Zeles’ lips thin, but he moves on. “Champions, your time starts…now.”
The other champions surge from their chairs, several running to the riches piled haphazardly before us.
Yanking my hand free, I hop up with more haste than grace and stumble a little—enough that Artemis, seated near us, sneers. Her intelligent, hazel eyes remind me of the hawk she hunts with. She’s built like a huntress—lean and strong yet light—and the way she moves her head, scanning everything, only adds to the impression. Her armor is what I’d have expected, all moons and bows and arrows over a green gown that complements her mahogany skin.
Green for the virtue of…Strength, maybe? Or Heart? I can’t remember, and I could see Artemis valuing either one.
I purposefully give her a goofy grin and a shrug, and she turns away, obviously considering me both clumsy and naive. Not a bad thing. Given where and how I grew up, I learned early that a little misinformation can only benefit me. Boone still thinks I’m afraid of the dark.
Speaking of, what in the world is he thinking right now? Watching me disappear from the den only to show up at the temple with Hades had to be a shock.
Hades, still relaxed in his chair, waves toward the tables and piles. “Run and play, my star.”
Does he really think this is fun for me?
