Prologue
There was blood on Haven Knightfall’s face. Minotaur blood. He’d killed two of the monsters in the maze. From what he could tell, there was one left.
He raced down a row and went right, then raced down the next. He’d trained for this moment his entire life.
He was destined to win the God Games.
Victory was in his blood.
Every Knightfall that came before him was a champion of the games. And up until a few days ago, Haven believed he’d be the next.
He came to a halt at an opening in the maze wall. The opening spilled into the maze’s center and there, by the fountain, stood Ana rimmed in the glow of the firelight.
Ana, the orphan that had been plucked from obscurity. Picked to compete alongside him in the God Games.
Everything about her made Haven furious. He hated how fucking gorgeous she was and how stubborn she was and how she refused to bend to him.
And now she was the only thing standing in his way.
Did she really think she could steal the win from him?
It was his by birth right.
The minotaur roared from beyond the wall. The monstrous sound made the hair on the back of Haven’s neck lift.
Fear etched itself onto Ana’s face as the monster’s hooves beat at the earth. It was close now. It’d be in the maze center in minutes.
Haven should keep moving. If he left Ana to face the minotaur alone, she’d likely lose.
And if she lost against a minotaur….
There wouldn’t be much of her left.
He’d be the winner. Just like he was supposed to be.
As the minotaur thundered closer and Ana froze up, Haven had to decide: help the girl or win the game?
Knightfalls were not known for their mercy.
Haven gritted his teeth and surged forward.
Chapter 1
Eight days earlier…
Here’s what they don’t tell you about being a descendant of a god—sometimes your godparent doesn’t give two flips about you.
And when your godparent doesn’t give two flips about you, you end up at the House of the Virgin Goddess Hestia as a half divine being, half unwanted brat.
I’ve been at Hestia’s House since birth.
The Virgin Goddess of Home and Hearth was the one who took me in from my mortal mother. She was the one who fed and nurtured and cared for me when my birth mother either couldn’t or wouldn’t.
I owe everything to Hestia.
And yet…
And yet…
I really really really hate picking wildflowers.
“Look at this one, Ana!” my best friend Clea says and holds up a peony she’s just cut from a meadow on the northwestern side of Mount Olympus. The peony is the size of her head and its bloom lists to the right it’s so heavy.
This is our daily chore. We pick wildflowers and fill vases in Hestia’s House and the houses of those who dwell in Olympus City.
It’s an absolute bore.
I’d rather be scraping barnacles from Poseidon’s fleet of ships. At least in that duty, I’d be doing something practical. The flowers will be dead in a week.
And besides, everything in Olympus is beautiful. Even the dirt glitters in the sunlight.
“That’s a lovely pick,” I tell Clea and then go about my business snipping lilies and bluebonnets from the ground, both of which are bigger than they ought to be, and smell sweet like the seeds of a pomegranate. Nothing in Olympus is as it should be.
Including me.
With a full bouquet, I turn for my basket, but by the time I scoop it up, the flowers in my hand have wilted. The petals curl in on themselves and then turn black.
“Son of a nymph,” I mutter and toss the dead bouquet beneath a bush.
That’s been happening more and more lately.
The one thing I’m supposed to do and I can’t even do it right anymore.
“Did you say something?” Clea asks.
“I said look at that patch of daisies!” I hurry to the flowers while Clea heads further downhill to the rambling hibiscus bushes.
Once I’m out of sight, I drop to the ground and fold my legs beneath me. A faint breeze kicks up and the grass sways around my knees.
I’m only midway up the mountain, but the vantage point is a good one.
The world of Olympus spreads out before me. In the distance, the rolling hills of farmland and beyond that, the ocean and all of the islands that make up a chain of divine domains and monster haunts.
And down below me, slowly coming alive in the dewy morning light is Olympus City. It hugs the northwestern side of the mountain and then curls around Lake Nisa to meet back up with the southern tip of the mountain. Sura once told me that our city rivals the size of the mortals’ Manhattan. I’ve never been, but I’ve seen photos and I have to say I agree.
Hestia’s House sits prominently in the heart of the city and shines in the sunlight like a jewel in a golden bezel. Across from it and down the slope from the shops, Lake Nisa is quiet and still. It’s a perfect reflection of what’s above.
Swans skim the water’s surface, noisily honking at one another.
It’s paradise. But sometimes it’s too perfect and I’m too...well...not.
Even in Hestia’s House, I’m like a blackbird in an aviary of sweet chickadees. A child of one human and one god, but with no knowledge of either. No clues about who I am or should be or could’ve been if I’d been claimed by either parent.
I twist around and look up the slope of the mountain to the peak just barely visible through the cloud cover. All of the Olympian gods have palaces in Olympus City, but most of the time they reside up there above the clouds where none of us half-breeds and demi-god descendants are ever allowed to tread.
If I’m a blackbird, they’re the golden phoenixes. Rare. Fiery. Invincible.
Clea calls, “We should be getting back. We’ve much to do before the ceremony!”
“Right. The ceremony,” I mumble to myself, where I’m forced to face other descendants who are going on to bigger and better things while I pick wildflowers and stoke the Eternal Flame in the sacred hearth.
When this day is over, I might just lock myself in the wine cellar and drink myself stupid. Maybe the desire is a clue that I could be a child of Dionysus.
“Ana!” Clea calls again.
“Coming!” I call back and grab my basket, careful not to touch the new pile of flowers I somehow managed to leave untarnished.
Chapter 2
“Anastasha,” Sura says, using the full name I was gifted and hate about as much as I hate thistles in my fingers. “Did you water the cabbage before you came in?”
Clea has already abandoned me to prep for the ceremony tonight. She seems overly worried about her appearance, though I’m not sure what all the fuss is about. It isn’t like we’re going to the ceremony to be chosen. We’re going to work.
I set both flower baskets on the worktable across from the sink. “Yes,” I reply to Sura. “I watered all the vegetables including the monster cabbage that we never harvest or eat. Someday that thing will overtake the house and then where will we be?”
Sura huffs at the stove, her back still to me. “You know Hestia has her reasons, and who are we to question a goddess?”