Page 11 of Flame and Fury

Nathaniel smiles, but there’s nothing nice about it. It’s all sharp edges and frost. “Funny thing, that. The only way to get into the Underworld is to be dead.”

I cock my head and feign ignorance. “Are you saying that the gods set us a challenge that was impossible to accomplish?”

Nathaniel and I stare at each other, locked in a standoff that I can’t win. Irritation flares in his eyes at my words. The low hum of a drone sounds behind me, and I’ve never been so happy to see one of the damn machines. Nathaniel’s eyes flick over my head and then back to me as he smiles with a little less venom than before.

“Of course not. After all, you won, didn’t you? I just wanted to say congratulations. What is that? Two wins for you now? Looks like you’ll be the one to watch.”

Without another word, Nathaniel leaves the room. His dress shoes click against the marble floors with every step he takes away from me.

I don’t think his warning applies to the game. I need to watch my step.

* * *

After we got backto the compound the night before, Billy ordered us straight to bed like children. Secretly, I was relieved. I didn’t want to interact with anyone. Greer kept giving me suspicious looks, and Preston's eyes were stabbing daggers into my back. Once again, I slept with my desk shoved in front of the door, but I was less worried about Preston attacking in the middle of the night. Not because I didn’t think he would, but because he doesn’t have as much muscle backing him. I feel bad about Tyson’s death, but he wasn’t a nice person. Maybe in different circumstances, he could have been decent. I didn’t meet that side of him.

When Preston snuck into my room and beat me up, he had Tyson, Jade, and Saffron with him. Now that Saffron is out of the games as well, it would just be Preston and Jade breaking in. Those are odds I can handle. That doesn’t mean I’m going to leave my door wide open for anyone to waltz right in.

Luckily, I made it through the night without having to beat anyone up.

The dining room is quiet when I enter for breakfast. The television mounted on the wall is showing footage of the parade and the riot that happened afterward. Six clerics and eight guards were severely injured. There’s no mention of any of the regular people who made up the majority of the crowd. The scroll at the bottom of the screen has updates on the clerics’ conditions; stable. Then the footage jumps to Nathaniel speaking outside the Shrine of Olympus before it cuts to a series of smaller temples.

Around the territory, people are being dragged out of their homes and thrown into town squares. The headlining “Suspected Fury Uprising” is tacked onto the screen. I can’t bear to watch as people are beaten and killed by rabid clerics.

Any appetite I had disappears. My stomach was already tied in anxious knots from yesterday. Seeing the pointless violence, so much pain and death, strips away any lingering hunger. That could easily be me. I agreed to help the Underground, essentially promising to betray the gods. Kat never specifically said she knew I was a Fury. Like if she spoke the word out loud, it would call down the wrath of the gods. It’s sort of a relief, in a strange way. Even though one more person knows what I am, if they don’t say it, then I can pretend my secret is still safe.

I swipe an apple off the spread of food and sink down into my seat. It’s the first time we’ve been back in the dining room since before the Hydra challenge. Lark’s absence hits harder than I anticipated. I haven’t forgotten the fact that she’s somehow now a servant for Nathaniel fucking Rogers. How does that even happen?

The skin over my wings itches and I close my eyes, inhaling deeply to control my anger. Maybe I’m not completely on board with the Underground, but they’re right about one thing, something has to change. We can’t keep living this way. We don’t deserve it. I picture water coating my veins and icing over, but it doesn’t work. It’s getting harder to sit around and do nothing in the face of all these injustices.

A foot taps mine under the table, and I open my eyes. Normally, no one sits across from me, but Greer, Drake, and Atlas have all moved down so that they’re facing Nico, Jasper, and me. Jasper has left a small space between the two of us, but he’s also creeping into the spot where Lark used to sit.

When I look up, Atlas’s eyes connect with mine.

“Are you okay?” He mouths the words, tapping his foot against mine once again.

I nod, but the way Atlas clenches his jaw makes me think he doesn’t buy it.

“Finish up in here. You’ll be meeting with your stylists this morning.” Billy doesn’t even bother walking into the room. He makes his announcement from the doorway and then disappears down the hall in a swirl of his red cleric robes.

“Great. I can’t wait to see what they have in store for us today,” Greer grumbles as she gets up from the table.

Me too.

Estella is normally a bright burst of energy and cheerfulness. Today she’s subdued when I walk into her room. Even her colorful clothing is muted. She’s wearing a jumpsuit with a chevron pattern in different shades of brown. Her pink hair is pulled up in a large bun, held in place with some of her other braids.

“Hey, you,” she says when she sees me but her levity sounds forced. She pats the seat in front of her. I keep my eyes on her while I slide into it. Estella’s hands move to my hair, and she messes around with the strands, but she’s distracted.

“Is everything okay?” I typically mind my own business. I don’t get involved in other people's drama, but I like Estella, and something is obviously wrong.

Her head snaps up, and she catches my eye in the mirror. She blinks a few times, shakes her head, and offers me a smile.

“Oh, ignore me. I stayed up too late last night.” Estella looks away from the mirror and focus is back on my hair. “That was crazy with the parade and everything.”

Estella’s eyes dart back to me, and then away, like she can’t figure out where she wants to look.

“I saw on the news this morning that the clerics were doing random house searches all over the territory.” I don’t say anything else, even though I want to rail against the clerics and the gods that permit these actions. Those people don’t deserve to be ripped from their homes and punished just so the clerics can pretend they’re meting out justice. It’s disgusting.

Estella swallows loudly but doesn’t say anything more about the parade. She changes the subject altogether.“I think we’re going to do lots of little curls today,” Estella says as she searches a drawer and comes up with a thin curling iron. “You’re going to need some big hair to combat your outfit.”

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