Page 23 of Flame and Fury

The Boar raises his eyebrows. He hasn’t said a word the whole time Atlas and I have been fumbling over each other. Frankly, it’s embarrassing and makes us seem like children.

“The gods have selected you as the next challenge in the Olympus Games.”

This time the Boar can’t hide his reaction, and surprise shines in his eyes. I get it. It sucks to be under the microscope of the gods.

“Our latest challenge is to find you and to bring you to the gods.”

The Boar hasn’t moved his hands from the top of the table. He’s relaxed but attentive, and now he looks thoughtful.

“And is that why you’re here? To capture me and turn me over?” There’s no accusation in his question. He isn’t giving away his feelings, one way or the other.

“No,” Atlas and I both answer at the same time. But he doesn’t cut in and try to take over again. He lets me continue explaining things, thankfully.

I push my hair back from my face. The snow has melted and left the wet strands a mess. “To tell you the truth, I had no idea who you were until about an hour ago. No offense, I tend to keep my worries to my own neck of the woods.”

The Boar nods in acknowledgment. “It makes sense. Most of us don’t have the reach to help more than the people in our city.”

A glimmer of guilt swims around in my stomach. I do have the ability to help more than the people of my neighborhood, but I haven’t. I’ve been hiding away and playing superhero when I had the time, but I should have been doing more.

“It was brought to my attention that you’re known in these parts as something of a…philanthropist.” It feels weird to call him Robin Hood to his face. “I get that. It’s painful to watch the people around you, your neighbors and friends, struggle under the weight of trying to feed their families and keep a roof over their heads. Especially when you know it doesn’t have to be this way. And if we have the power and ability to do something about that, why wouldn't we seize the opportunity and help where we can?”

I can’t stop thinking about my old neighborhood and the feeling that I’ve abandoned them to the clerics. I didn’t choose to be swept up in these games, but it’s not just me suffering the consequences. There’s no Dark Hand making sure the clerics aren’t terrorizing my neighbors. No one to keep the scum who roam our streets at night in check.

Unless I count Mrs. Schnelman, who’s been known to chase off the clerics with a broom.

These games have also opened my eyes to the world being a much bigger place than I realized. I can’t keep pretending that nothing beyond the borders of my neighborhood matters.

“As long as we have the clerics ruling our cities and the gods turning a blind eye, or hell, encouraging them to hurt people, then someone like you might be the only saving grace for these people. Your help might be the only reason they eat tonight or why a child has a place to sleep. I don’t know you, but your actions are important enough that I refuse to take you in as a sacrifice to the gods.”

I sink back into my chair feeling sheepish with my long-winded speech. The Boar doesn’t say anything to me, he just turns to look at Atlas. “And you? Why are you here?”

“Well, after Wren’s speech, I’m going to sound like a demanding jackass.” Atlas shakes his head, but there’s more gold flashing in his hazel eyes than normal as he looks at me. He blinks like he’s forgotten where we’re at and turns away. “There needs to be a certain level of trust between us. Because what I’m about to say could get us all killed.”

“How do you know you can trust me?” The Boar steeples his fingers, pressing them to his chin as he watches us.

“I don’t. But sometimes you have to take a leap of faith and hope that you’re putting your trust in the right person. Change doesn’t happen without someone sticking their neck out.”

The Boar cocks his head to the side. He leans back in his chair, shoving his hands inside his hoodie pocket. I wonder if he has any god blood running through his veins. He’s a handsome man, then again, most leaders are charismatic and have a certain irresistible quality that makes others want to follow them. From what Atlas said the Boar has garnered a lot of love over the years.

“What kind of change do you want to see, Atlas Morrison, son of Zeus?” The Boar’s words aren’t threatening, it’s more that he’s reminding Atlas of all the reasons he has not to trust him. I’ve felt those very same concerns, but hearing the Boar say them out loud irritates me.

“This is the part that takes trust on our part,” Atlas says, nodding to indicate he means him and me.

I watch Atlas, frowning with a crease of worry pulling down my brows. He won’t spill my secret, will he? Scratch that, he did exactly that with Kat. But he knows her. It’s his aunt. He won’t tell this random person, will he? I don’t care if he’s Robin Hood, King Arthur, or a prisoner scheduled to die in one minute, he’s still a stranger to us both.

My hands grip the arms of my chair tight enough to make the wood creak. I force myself to unclench and move them into my lap.

“We are working with the Underground. It’s time to rise up. No one deserves to live under the boot of the clerics or be subjected to the fickle whims of the gods. We’re all entitled to a voice and that’s what we’re fighting for.”

A spark of interest lights in the Boar’s eyes. He buries it quickly but not fast enough that I don’t see it.

“And what exactly does that have to do with me?” The Boar’s question feels more like a test than anything.

Atlas waits to answer, cracking his knuckles one by one before he replies. The Boar can’t see that little tick because Atlas’s hand is under the table, but I do. There’s something so human about the gesture that it always surprises me when I catch Atlas doing it. He appears unflappable and prides himself on presenting this stony façade where nothing can break through to his underbelly. But that’s just who he pretends to be.

“We would like to form a partnership.”

The Boar's eyes narrow slightly. He scratches at the stubble along his jaw. “What kind of partnership?”

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