Now I realize just how wrong I was.
Haven isn’t easily supplanted like a pompous ass might be.
Haven’s power is greater, more pervasive.
He is the power. A force that can’t be fought, much like the wind or rain.
Theo giving over his bracelet—his entire life and everything he’s known—is proof of that.
I step forward, suddenly blind with anger and a little dizzy with envy.
“That isn’t fair!” I shout.
Haven gives me a look that’s gratingly pleased and I realize my reaction has given him exactly what he wants.
He slips the bracelet over his wrist and steps through the torch line.
He takes two steps to me, grabs me by the throat and runs me back against the oak tree.
The bark bites through my overshirt. Pain burns down my neck as Haven presses his fingers against the bruise Ely already gave me.
“Do you know who I am, Hearthtender?” His mouth is close, so damn close, I can hear the gritting of his teeth. “I’m Haven Fucking Knightfall and I will win this trial and I will assume my rightful place in Hades’s elite. And if you, or anyone else gets in my way, I will make sure that your fate is worse than the mortal streets. I will not just wipe your memory from divine minds” —his grip tightens and the bruise blooms with pain— “I will wipe your very existence from the earth you tread.”
When he lets me go, I double over, rubbing at my raw throat.
Everyone is silent.
I’m a spectacle that they don’t want to risk missing.
Every time I think I’m getting ahead, Haven reminds me of who I am and where I came from.
I can’t best his brutality or his cruelty. I can’t fight the force of him. I can’t become a predator like him. He was born that way. I’ve only just arrived.
But maybe...maybe I’ve been going about it all wrong and maybe Haven was right. Maybe I need to be weak in order to be strong.
I’ve been trying to meet Haven at his match. Playing his game on his board. It’s a game that I don’t entirely understand the rules of. I need to be more subtle about my own moves. I need to start playing my own game.
I stand upright and gingerly clutch at my neck, as if I can rub the rawness away. There are tears in my eyes. Mostly from the pain, but instead of hiding the tears, I let them run down my face.
“You’re right,” I say. I close my eyes, forcing out more tears. “I’m just...I’m scared.”
When I open my eyes again, Haven is staring at me with a look that’s unreadable. The boys behind him are still watching. The torches snap as the wind shifts. Dry leaves skitter into the clearing.
For the briefest of moments, Haven frowns, caught off guard by my admission and my submission.
For the briefest of moments, I’m sure that what I see on his face is no longer angry and vengeful—it’s sympathetic.
And there...there is my in.
The way to take out Haven Knightfall is to make him believe I’m exactly who he thinks I am.
A weak, stupid girl.
Chapter 19
When I get back to my room, I find a parcel on the bed tied tight with twine. There’s a letter with it.
I tear into it hungrily, immediately recognizing the looping script on the outside of the envelope that reads, My Dearest Ana.
If you’re reading this, you’ve won your first trial. I am so very proud of you. Please accept this gift as a symbol of our commendation. Sura has been working on it day and night.
I must admit, I was worried when the box chose your name. Only the Fates know the road you are to travel, but I suspect your future will be worthy of an epic ballad and I look forward to the day that I will hear it sung.
Your Mother Goddess,
Hestia
When I reach the end of the letter, tears blot out the ink.
Hestia was always a kind mother goddess, but it isn’t in the gods’ nature to be overly involved with their descendants, or their orphans in Hestia’s case. I saw her for ceremonies and festivals. On infrequent occasions, she would treat one of us orphans to a journey across the outlying lands to bless the houses of the farmers. And every now and then, she’d come to the house for a special dinner and would converse with us older orphans by the fire afterward.
But never, in all my years at her house, has she ever said she was proud of me.
Never has she told me she sees great things for my future.
It means more than she can know.
I set the letter aside and untie the parcel. There’s a dress folded inside. I take it by the shoulders and hold it up. It’s made of fine silk the color of the blackest night. It’s buttery between my fingers. It’ll be the perfect dress to wear for tonight.
I’m to report to Hades’s Hall just before dusk for the departure ceremony and then immediately after will attend a celebration for all descendants from all God Houses.
I finally get to see Clea! Though she wasn’t chosen, I imagine Hestia will extend an invitation for her.
For the rest of the day, I doze in bed. My body is still fighting the new schedule and I find I still want to be awake in the daytime despite the constant exhaustion.
When I summon enough energy to get up, it’s mid-afternoon and knowing most of the boys like to keep even later hours, I hurry to the bathroom and shower as quickly as I can.
Back in my room, while my hair dries, I dust rouge on my cheeks and run pomegranate paint over my lips. While the curling iron Clea gifted me for last Festivus warms by the fire, I braid two small, delicate braids into my hair and then join them at the back with a pin I found in my wardrobe. At the center is Cerberus. It feels bold to wear Hades’s House symbol when he hasn’t even claimed me, but I don’t care. I won my first trial!
When the iron is ready, I wrap chunks of hair around it creating large curls that hang around my face.
When I’m finished, I slip into the dark dress and appraise myself in the full-length mirror. The dress flows over my body like it’s made of the water of the River Styx.
I look like Ana Hearthtender, but also like a revered descendant of Hades.
Like night and shadow and glory.
I made it through my first trial and I nearly beat Haven at it too.
“Thank you, Sura,” I say to my reflection hoping she can feel my gratitude all the way over here in the shadow side of Mt. Olympus.
Just as Apollo’s chariot descends below the horizon, I enter Hades’s Hall. It looks like I’m nearly the last to arrive again, but I’m beginning to like being fashionably late. And when Haven’s eyes land on me across the great room, I’m even more pleased.
His gaze drinks me in. From the silk of my slippers to the dress hugging my curves, to the braid crowning my head.
There’s a look on his face that reminds me of the malefactors chained to rocks of the northwestern shore. The look of a starving man.
My skin goes to goosebumps and I have to repress the shiver that wants to race up my spine.
He doesn’t look so bad himself in a black suit that’s tailored to precision to skim his broad shoulders and the rise and dip of his biceps. His hair is just slightly wet, like he took a shower not long ago. From across the room, his amber eye seems to glow in the dim.
There are two clear groups standing on the dais and I know which side I’m on.