Two days have passed since we returned from the challenge. After a night of rest and a clear head, we figured the route home.
Although my mind is on the trials ahead, I haven’t stopped thinking about kissing Dion. If there’s anything I’ve learned from the event, it’s that hormones are distracting, because all I want is to track him down, throw him against a wall, a bed, or any other surface, and kiss him again.
Unfortunately, with the next trial coming up, I still feel behind. My allies have had years of formal schooling, something I’m not used to. I had tutors when I was a child, sent to the forest enclave by Zeus. The academics weren’t easy—the expectations were high even though I didn’t understand why at the time—but the situation at the Academy is not something I’m accustomed to. The competition in class. The judgment from the teachers. I feel I’m slipping behind already, consumed with the Trials, gods, and the secrets carried in this place.
Determined to research everything I can about past trials, I carry my assignment to the massive library adjacent to the Academy. It’s crowded, the tables filled with students poring over books and papers. I feel incredibly out of place. This isn’t where I’m most comfortable. I’d rather be outside. Really, I’d rather be anywhere else.
To make things worse, I feel the eyes of the students as I walk down the center aisle. The whispers continue even after all this time. It’s turned from me being a feral wild child to being some kind of mythological succubus. They think I’ve lured Apollo’s mates to the woods with my unquenchable need for sex.
Like with all rumors, it’s only partially true.
Word spread after none of us appeared at dinner or breakfast while we were lost on our challenge. Even Fulla arrived at my door bursting with questions. Unfortunately, I had little to share. Sure, Dion and I shared a kiss—well, many kisses—but beyond that he was a gentleman. And other than some awkward glances between the allies the following morning, it hasn’t been discussed.
Well, I think, as I pass the leering eyes of Eros and the sly grin of Adonis, at least none of them has discussed it with me.
I’m aware that Skoll lurks near the stacks of books. I feel like a warrior entering into enemy territory and keep my relieved face blank when I finally find an empty table in the corner. Spreading my books and papers across the surface, I force myself to work.
Or, I try to.
Ugh. I hate this side of it. Loathe it, and soon I’m staring out the window at the open sky. I shouldn’t be caged in here, but I remember the worn leather journal I keep in my bedding. It’s selfish to whine about my life. Apollo is dead and I’m not doing nearly enough to figure out who killed him. The journal has been nagging at me, and I pull it from my bag. I’ve read the pages a dozen times, very few of my brother’s entries make sense. I can’t tell if he was trying to be poetic or vague. But I’m close to giving up (again) when I spot Triton walk in through the front doors.
I watch him for a moment, astonished at his beauty. Maybe not classical like Dion, dark and mysterious like Loki, or a shining glimmer like Thor, but there’s something about him that draws me in. It could be the lack of awareness to his physical being and the focus on his mind. Whatever it is, he’s gorgeous, and my lips tingle like they do when I think about kissing Dion.
I wouldn’t mind experimenting with Triton as well.
He places a stack of books on the return desk and looks across the cavernous room. I take a chance on getting his attention.
“Triton,” I call, my voice louder than a whisper. The closest people stare at me, offended at my volume. Skoll scowls in my direction. I roll my eyes and hiss at him again. “Triton! Over here!”
He glances up and I’m caught off-guard by the color of his eyes. Gray-blue like the sea surrounding the Academy. I wave him over and clear a spot on the table. “Come sit with me. I have something to show you.”
He looks at the mess on the table, obviously disturbed at my disorganization. But he does sit and hangs his satchel on the back of the chair. “What did you want to show me?”
I lean over, noticing the conch shell hanging from a chain around his neck. “Did you know Apollo kept a journal?”
He straightens and glances around him before beckoning me to sit. “No.”
“I found one—or rather, I think someone left it for me to find. None of it makes sense to me. I don’t know if it’s because I don’t know him well or if it’s not that important? Would you take a look at it?”
I don’t know what to expect, but it’s not the hesitant expression on his handsome face. He picks up the book but doesn’t open it. “I’m not sure I feel right reading Apollo’s diary.”
I nod. “That’s fair, but what if it helped find his killer? Or helped us with winning the Trials? I don’t think he’d mind, do you?”
He pushes the book back toward me. “Pick something that’s bothering you. I don’t want to read the whole thing, but I’ll help if I can.”
I open the book and skim down. “Well, he talks a fair amount about you all being in his alliance. He points out that Adonis, Eros, and Skoll are definitely not. He’s wary of their game-play but he also sometimes worries about Loki. Do you think there’s anything to that?”
Triton rests his hands on the table. “Loki isn’t an enemy—not in the way that the others are. You saw him after the other competition. He carries his demons, but all evidence points to him being loyal and that is what matters to me.”
I don’t admit that I’m asking about Loki for myself as much as my brother. I like Loki. A lot, and I want to trust him. Apollo’s commentary made me nervous but —how paranoid was he before his death? That leads me to my next question.
“What do you know about a goddess named Cassandra?”
Her name comes up more than once in the journals. I get the feeling Apollo had a crush on her. A big one, and it’s unrequited—something my brother wasn’t used to, judging by other entries in his journal.
“Yes, I know Cassandra. She’s quiet. Spends a lot of time focused on her work.”
“Any rumors?”
“You’re asking me to gossip? You of all people should be above that.”
“Why me?” I ask. “Because people talk behind my back? Trust me. I know and I don’t care.”
“You don’t?”
“No, I actually find it helpful to know what people assume about me. It says more about them than about me. Although I am of the belief that there’s a dash of truth in every sordid piece of gossip.” I run my hand over the leather journal. The rings on my fingers glint in the lamp light. “Like the one where they say I sleep with my bow and killed the first two messengers my father sent, in my sleep.”
He swallows and watches me with those intense eyes. “Rumor?”
I smile and shrug. “So tell me Triton, what do people say about Cassandra?”
“Not that I believe it, but I’ve heard that she’s a prophet.”
“For real?” Apollo said as much in his journal, and from what I’ve read and heard, it could be true.
“I don’t know. You asked for a rumor, so I gave you one.”
“Do you think my brother was in love with her?”
“Love?” He chuckles quietly. “Apollo was not a one-woman man. It’s more likely she had a crush on him or maybe they had a one-night fling, but I don’t think your brother ever loved any of the goddesses he was with more than the other.”
That doesn’t match Apollo’s diary. I may need to find this woman myself. I slide the journal back in my bag. Triton watches me closely, I can’t help but mess with him just a little. “You know, I’ve heard rumors about you too.”
“What would anyone say about me? He studies a lot? That’s not really a rumor, Artemis.” His eye twitches. Barely, but it’s a tell. Triton is hiding something.
“I’m sure it’s no big deal,” I say, stacking my books.