I expect a body.
I find a man, upright and walking toward me with the arrow tight in his fist.
“I’m looking for Artemis, daughter of Zeus and Leto.”
Without thinking, I nock another arrow and say, “You’ve found her.”
His face comes into the firelight and I freeze, fully aware that this is no mortal. I’m spinning this over in my head when he declares, “Then I regret to inform you that your brother, Apollo, is dead.”
2
ARTEMIS
My bow doesn’t waver. It’s still trained on the man’s throat, but his words echo in my ears. “What did you say?”
“Apollo is dead.” His eyes soften. “I’m sorry.”
I become aware of the others behind me, the warriors and fellow encampment dwellers alike. I lower my bow and say to him, “You can’t be here. It’s forbidden.” Then I tilt my head in question. “How did you pass through the wards?”
“I came here as a messenger of Zeus.” Ah, my father could crash through any magic he wished. He looks at the weapons still aimed at him. “I mean no harm, but I do have to speak to you further. Privately.”
Curiosity, along with the numbness of hearing the news about Apollo, makes me careless. “I’ll meet you near the willow tree east of the ridge.”
He nods and vanishes back into the woods. Two of my fellow hunters silently follow him. I let them go. There could be more. This may not be as it seems.
I glance at Victoria, who looks pale in the firelight. I offer her a tight smile while knowing our world has been irrevocably changed. I secure my bow on my back, the quiver in a leather sheath.
“I’ll be back,” I say to my friend.
“You can’t go alone. Take Danielle. She’s our second-best shot.”
I’m the first.
I know I have to do this alone. That world, the one of gods and society and my father and brother, is separate from this one. I won’t allow them to cross. I felt it in the eclipse that day. A light was snuffed. I have no doubt what this man says is true.
“Danielle,” I call, and the curvy woman appears by my side. She carries a blade as well as her bow. “Arm everyone. Get the children inside. You’re in charge.”
She nods. “I’ll protect them.”
“I know you will.”
Victoria gives me a nasty look for subverting her idea. It doesn’t stop her from saying, “Be careful.”
“You too.”
I disappear into the dark. The woods are a sanctuary. I’ve spent countless hours combing the forest each day. It’s how I learned to hunt. To kill. I’m happier with my hands dirty, climbing trees or chasing animals, but something has always told me that my survival skills come as a gift from my father.
The moon lights my path, and just before I reach the willow tree, I pause and assess the messenger. The male. It’s not a fabrication that I’ve never seen one. I’ve never had the interest. I have my friends and companions, my activities and role in the encampment. Men are nothing more than a myth—something girls like Victoria dream about or a cautionary tale in Empanada’s weekly blessings. Beings obsessed with power and politics. But now, there’s one before me. Two heads taller than I am. Hair the color of straw. It’s too dark to see the shade of his eyes but they look light, like Victoria’s. Gray, perhaps. Maybe blue. His jaw is a fine, sharp line and his nose slants evenly across his face. Lithe muscles line his arms and bulk up his shoulders. He carries a blade at his hip. A leather cuff wraps around his wrist.
His clothing is not made of leather—or at least, not all of it. It looks finely made, as if on a machine. The stitches are even and close together. The fabric has vibrant colors, vivid blues and greens, the darkest black. His eyes skim the forest and pause when they reach me. He’s aware, not a fool, although it’s unlikely my father would send someone ill-prepared to find me.
I step under the long, wispy branches of the tree and approach him.
“How do I know this isn’t some kind of ruse? Men have tried to find us before. Taking a member of my encampment would be quite a feat. Are you sure this isn’t why you’re really here?”
“I’m not interested in the women you live with, Artemis.”
“Why not?
“Two reasons. First, I was sent here by your father and the last thing I want to do is have the ruling god of society breathing down my neck for disobeying his orders.” He grimaces. “And second, although I’m sure you and all your forest nymphs are lovely, charming people in your own woodsy way, none of you is exactly my type.”
I consider both of these. He’s right about my father. Crossing him would be life-ending. And the women? “None of them are my type, either.”
He laughs at my blunt honesty, and a touch of the darkness in his eyes retreats.
“What is your name?” I ask. Directness has never been a problem for me.
“Hati.”
“You aren’t Greek.”
“I’m from Odin’s realm.”
“Norse, then.” I’ve heard tales of the Norsemen. Epic gods of war and battle. I find it curious my father would send someone from outside to seek me out—to tell me this news. But nothing Zeus does ever makes sense to me. “Tell me, how did my brother die?”
“He’s been at the Academy, training for the Trials.” I watch the man closely as he speaks. The way his lips move. The lines of his face. They’re hard—not soft like the women in the encampment. Everything about him seems angular, from his shoulders to the tapering of his waist. His voice is deep, so much I can almost feel it in my chest. I move closer and take a discrete whiff. He smells different, too. Musky, like the scent of bears downstream in the fall.
“What Trials?” I ask, then add, “What Academy?”
He tilts his head. “You do not know about these things?”
I shake my head. “I live in a world of hunting and gathering. We’re an isolated community. My father didn’t tell you?”
“He said to be discreet.” A smile lifts the corners of his lips. I don’t trust it. “And to watch my back. I believe his exact words were, ’The women of Artemis’s village are deadly. Tread carefully.’” He looks at my bow. Assesses my muscles. “The Academy is the premiere school for training and educating the most elite gods of the three realms. Greek, Roman, and Norse. Applicants begin when they are twenty-one and typically spend the next three years learning politics, bureaucracy, and climbing the social ladder. Once attained, they will begin a lifelong career in ruling the masses.”
“You still haven’t told me how my brother met his fate or explained these Trials.”
“Apollo’s death was shrouded in mystery, but I do know it took place at the Trials, which,” he adds, knowing I’m only going to ask again, “are a standard challenge for each graduating class, but three weeks ago it was announced that things would be different this year.”
“Different how?”
He looks vaguely annoyed by my questions but continues. “Your father, Zeus, is retiring from his position of leadership over the Academy. Everyone assumed he would give the role to Apollo, who is—was—coming of age and set to graduate this year, but he didn’t. Instead of appointing a successor, he declared a series of trials to take place over the next school year. The winner takes his place.”
I absorb this information. One thing, other than the death of my brother, bothers me. “Why is my father retiring?”
“That I can’t answer.” He gives me a tight smile. “I’m nothing more than a messenger.”
“Again, how did my brother die? In these trials? An accident?”
“Apollo was the shining glory of the academy. There was little doubt in anyone’s mind that he would win. Actually, he won the first challenge easily.” His eyes connect with mine and I feel something—a chill?—creep up my back. “Not everyone wanted your brother as their leader.”
“What are you saying?” I ask.
“Apollo was murdered.” He takes a deep breath. “And your father requests that you come back with me to the Academy.”