“I have a token to find,” I say to Hades. “Stay out of trouble.”
His low chuckle follows me and lodges under my skin like a splinter I can’t see.
Followed shortly after by yet another gong and time check.
That sound is really starting to jangle my nerves.
While time slips away, I continue looking for patterns in the items while surreptitiously watching the other champions. But by the time two more gongs go off and Zeles calls out, “Thirty-five minutes,” I’m starting to rethink my plan. It’s not getting me anywhere. The others must be wrestling with similar doubts, because their movements all turn a little more rushed, faces more pinched.
I pause on Zai, giving him a closer look.
He has picked up a delicate glass bauble, I can’t tell of what exactly, and is trying to surreptitiously study the underside more closely. Long enough that I start to wonder what he sees. He coughs when he sets it down. Then he moves on to the next item and does the same, looking at the underside, though he puts that one down quicker.
My heart beats a little faster. Maybe patience paid off. Is he onto something?
Starting well away from Zai to keep from drawing attention to him, one at a time, I pick up different items—a scepter, a chalice, an orb. All priceless. Felix would fall over in a dead faint if he saw these riches.
I mix looking at the bottoms with other actions as I gradually make my way to the trinket he stared at first.
I set down an orb and sigh, glancing around, which is when Hermes steps into my line of sight, his winged feet and iconic helm the fanciest parts of his ensemble. Other than a gold cape that flares behind him when he walks, his armor holds no further adornments, no symbols. I’ve always liked my patron god.
I get the feeling that he doesn’t like me, though. Shrewd eyes in a narrow, arresting face are trained on me as he weaves through the antiquities, stopping only when he’s close enough that I can hear his lowered voice. “I know who you are—one of my Order’s pledges.”
Not now, I’m thinking. Talk to me later when I’m not under the gun.
I bow before him like I never have with Hades—or any of the others so far, for that matter. “I have always honored you as our patron god, Hermes. I hope—”
He jerks a hand up, and I stop, mouth hanging open until I remember to close it.
“I am not your patron during the Crucible.”
Unsure, I rise slowly from my bow. “Of course—”
“Stop talking,” he snarls.
I snap my mouth shut so quickly, I bite the inside of my cheek, but I refuse to wince.
He stares at me hard like I hold the secrets of the world. “Why you?” he mutters to himself. “You’re nothing.”
Ouch. But I guess I’m not the only one asking.
Meanwhile, the clock is running, and he’s wasting too many ticks.
Be warned,” he says. “Watch your back.”
“Are you threatening me?” I ask, glancing in the direction of the four Daemones watching every soul on this platform very closely.
“That would be against the rules.” Something in the way he looks when he says that—everything about him, his eyes, his jaw, his shoulders, rigid—keeps me from relaxing. “Then again,” he muses, “the rules will no longer apply after the Crucible is over.”
So this is a threat.
I’m not hazardously brave enough to call him on it, so instead I lean to the left slightly to peek around him, right at Hades. I don’t say a word, but I guess Hermes gets the hint when he turns his head to see where I’m looking.
Does he really want to tangle with that particular god? Even after the Crucible? Not that Hades will give me a second thought when this is done, but Hermes can’t be sure of that. “I get the impression that Hades is very possessive of anything he considers to be his, and he seems to be one to hold a grudge.” I look at Hermes. “Am I wrong?”
Without another word, Hermes stalks away.
Fantastic. The Crucible has hardly started, and I’m already public enemy number one.
The gong goes off again, stringing my nerves tighter. “Thirty minutes,” Zeles announces.
I look around at how many items are here. Thirty minutes isn’t going to be enough to check them all, and I still haven’t made it to the thing Zai saw to even know what I’m looking for. I move faster now, making my way across the platform to where he was, still trying to hide what I’m doing. I can practically hear the sundial ticking down the seconds like a clock with cogs. It’s not until one of the other champions shoots me a sidelong glance that I realize I’m humming. Again.
I clear my throat and pick up a slender baton, only to jump when it suddenly turns into a hissing snake in my grasp. It winds its way up my arm. Another trick of the gods, I see. Am I supposed to scream? Run away and hide? They’re amateurs at pranks compared to pledges.
“Not so fast, little fella.” Reaching up, I grasp it gently by the head and peel it away before it can loop around my neck. I look at it. “I don’t have time for a distraction right now.”
“Oh, give him here,” an impatient female voice says. Demeter’s golden armor sets off beige skin and wheat-colored hair. Even her eyes seem to spark with gold. I give her the snake, which winds around her wrist and snuggles into her like a beloved pet.
But she’s focused on me. “Why would Hades pick you?”
Everyone’s number one question, it seems. “You should ask him.”
I turn away but pause when she says, “He probably just wants to fuck you.”
Wow. I open my mouth but stop myself just in time. What if this isn’t her being a bitch? What if this is a mother jealous on her daughter’s behalf? Persephone’s death must still hurt her terribly. “My condolences,” I say, “on the loss of your—”
Demeter’s expression turns poisonous, and it leaks into her voice. “Don’t dare speak of her, mortal.” A nearby urn of beautiful lavender-colored hydrangeas withers, turning black at the edges.
