I don’t want to anger him. I don’t want to challenge him. But I also don’t want to be here and I think he might be the only person who’ll actually listen to me.
“This is the first time I’ve ever had a female chosen one sitting in my office,” he says and laughs like this is all a big funny joke.
“Oh ha ha ha,” I say nervously.
Stop being an idiot!
Appeal to his senses!
“This seems like a huge mistake,” I say.
He nods. “It’s certainly unprecedented.”
“I know the Fates rarely make errors, but there’s a first time for everything.”
He keeps nodding. “Or it could be you’re needed in the mortal realm for some profound future.” He smiles, but it’s not charitable.
Now his gaze is firmly on me and there’s a disdainful glitter to his eyes.
He already thinks I’ll lose.
Well, obviously I’ll lose.
How can I stand against an entire trial panel of Hades’s descendants? Let alone a Knightfall?
I’d never make it out in the mortal realm. What do I know about pop culture and fried food and public transportation?
The mortal realm would devour me sooner than the Olympian one.
But the only way I’ll get to stay in Olympus is if I get out of this damn house.
“I wonder if perhaps I could ask to see the Fates?” I say. “Surely they’d want—”
Behind Nereus, a swath of black mist appears and then quickly solidifies into the towering figure of Hades.
I swear he sucks all of the oxygen out of the room because I’m finding it hard to take a deep breath.
Nereus stands up and bows. “My lord.”
I stand and follow into a deep bow and mutter, “My lord,” though it sounds hollow even to my ears.
“The Fates don’t make mistakes,” Hades says, jumping right to the point.
I sink back to the chair, defeated.
“You’ll fare much better if you accept that fact and move on.” Hades comes around the sofa and sits on the other end opposite Nereus. He spreads his long arm over the sofa’s back. His dark, wavy hair is tied back with a black leather strip. There’s scruff on his face that’s nearly cut in half along the left side where a scar has made the skin puckered and white. Gods rarely bear scars, but I heard Hades got his from his father, the titan Cronus.
The war between the titans and the gods was long before I was born, but yet the stories still prevail.
Hades goes on. “You’ll do well to remember your place here.”
I inhale through my nose trying to quell the conflicting emotions rolling in my gut. Fear from being before the dark god. Worry over insulting him. Anger that I might be sitting across from my father and yet still remain unclaimed.
What I want to ask is, What is my place here?
Instead, what comes out of my mouth is, “Of course, my lord, I’m sorry to—”
“I don’t want your apologies, Hearthtender.”
His voice makes my skin pop with goosebumps. “Of course,” I say again, because apparently I know no other words at the moment.
I avert my gaze, afraid to look the God of the Underworld directly in the eyes now that I know I’ve disrespected him. I can feel the power coming off of him in waves hotter than the fire.
What in the hell have I gotten myself into?
Don’t say more words. Keep your mouth shut.
“To be chosen is an honor,” Hades says. “Don’t forget that.”
“I won’t.”
Eyes still trained on the floor, I sit baking in the silence and the heat.
Finally Hades says, “You’re dismissed,” and I jerkily rise to my feet.
“Thank you, my lord.” I bow, low and deep.
When I’m free of the office and the door is shut behind me, I suck in a full breath. I’m not entirely sure which direction to take, so I just choose one and go.
I’m relieved that I survived the meeting, but my stomach is still in knots. All my hope (though frail it was) is now gone. I’m not getting out of Hades’s house. I’m not getting out of the trial.
I’m not going home.
Tears burn in my eyes at the realization. I’m stuck here, destined to fail, and surrounded entirely by boys that clearly hate me.
When your first plan doesn’t work, mortals like to say, Time for Plan B. I read that in one of Hestia’s books.
Plan B. Plan B. Okay...what’s my plan B?
I take another deep breath and surge forward. Though there are no windows in this hallway, I can still sense the sun rising outside. So I’ll take a long, hot shower and see if anything comes to me. And if it doesn’t...well, there’s always tomorrow. I’ll keep trying to escape this horror…
Until I do.
Chapter 10
After grabbing what looked like pajamas from my room, I make my way up the stairs to the dormitory bathrooms. Max said all of the descendants share the bathrooms, and as I’m standing there in the doorway to the large space I realize what this means: I’m sharing a bathroom with nine other boys in a house that’s historically only ever been boys.
Great.
No one is modest in Olympus. I spent half my childhood running naked through the poppy fields on the western side of the mountain and you can’t turn a corner in Olympus City without running into a nude statue or painting of one of the divine gods, but somehow this is different.
Somehow this feels like a vulnerable place to be.
I turn my ear to the bathroom and listen for any signs that I’m not alone.
There’s only the dripping of one of the faucets.
Plink. Plink-plink. Plink.
Maybe if I hurry, I can be done and out before anyone even realizes I’m here.
I set my clean clothes on the wood bench outside one of the shower stalls and take my towel in with me to hang it on the iron hook. Once the stall door is locked behind me, I hurriedly undress and toss my clothes into the wet corner.
The water is deliciously hot when it comes out of the copper pipes. We only had one shower at Hestia’s, so most of my washing has been done in a giant tub in bath water we shared.
This long, hot shower almost feels like a luxury.
I could get used to this.
I allow myself to linger just a few minutes longer after I’m clean, face turned into the spray of the showerhead, before I finally make myself reach over and turn it off.
I quickly wrap the towel around my body and push the stall door open…
...and nearly slam into Haven Knightfall.
I let out a startled yip that makes Haven’s friends laugh.
“She must be part mutt,” the large boy on Haven’s left says. He’s the same boy who Clea and I met on the path to the amphitheater. Was that only last night? It seems like eons ago. Like another life.
I think the boy’s name is Pearce if I remember correctly. His red hair is mussed like he has yet to be introduced to a comb. Next to Pearce stand two other boys I can’t name.
They stand between Haven and the door, blocking my escape.
Shit.
Shit. Shit.
“Hello, orphan,” Haven says.
I meet his gaze and then quickly look away.
It’s hard to look into his white eye and not catch a chill.