Page 65 of Leda's Log

“A pyramid?” I stared at the enormous, pointy-topped building in front of us.

“Yes, they are all over these parts,” Faris told me. “The top is merely decorative. The most interesting parts are below ground.”

He was right. When we entered the pyramid, there wasn’t much to see except a big, empty, stone chamber of nothing and a staircase leading down. We opted for the staircase. It continued down, down, down…and then split? There were now three staircases, each leading down in a different direction.

Sierra stood there for a moment, then declared, “This way.”

We followed her lead, hoping she was right. None of the rest of us could sense the ring at all.

“Stop,” she said many twists and turns later, when we finally reached the bottom.

“What is it?” Nero asked her. “Is the ring close?”

“Yes, very close now,” she said. “But first we have to get past that.” She pointed at the long, empty hallway that stretched out before us like an underground tomb.

Sierra bent down, filling her hands with dirt. The dirt was dry and loose, a soft powdery sand that had accumulated on the ground over many millennia. She flicked the sand in front of her, illuminating a web of crisscrossing lasers.

“Sensors.” She squinted at the walls. “But where are the traps?”

“Let’s not find out,” Nero advised her. “Best to avoid the sensors altogether.”

She nodded in acknowledgement. “Right.” She frowned.

“I can take the lead,” Nero offered.

“No, I can do this. I just need to see the pattern again.” She grabbed two more handfuls of dirt and tossed them to reveal the pattern once more. “Right. I’ve got it now.”

“In that case, after you.” Nero extended his arm in front of him, indicating for her to go first.

Sierra led us through the web with the grace of a dancer and the composure of a soldier. I was so proud of her—and so terrified for her. She was twelve. It just wasn’t normal for twelve-year-olds to spend their days bypassing boobytraps inside ancient pyramids in search of magical treasure.

“Well done, Sierra,” Grace told her when we’d all made it through safely. “Such a well-considered, orderly solution to the problem.” She stole a glance at me. “So unlike your mother.”

“Thanks, Grace,” I said with a tight smile.

Whereas her smile was radiant, genuine, and one hundred percent victorious. “Oh, you are very welcome, Leda.”

Damn it. You’d think that after all these years, I would have learned not to thank a deity. Like angels, they took the words as an admission that you owed them a favor. And they didn’t consider sarcasm an adequate excuse to discharge you from that favor either.

Well, there was nothing I could do about it now except grin and bear it—and hope that future favor didn’t bite me in the ass.

“Sierra learned from the best,” I said, smiling at Nero.

In so many ways, she really was just like her father.

“Yes, well done, Sierra,” Faris said as we approached the underground treasury. “I knew there was a reason you were my favorite grandchild.”

“I’m your only grandchild,” Sierra pointed out.

Faris shrugged off her comment. “You will always be my favorite.”

“Well, you’renotmy favorite grandfather.”

Faris’s smile faded. “You prefer Damiel Dragonsire,” he cut out.

Sierra shrugged. “Grandpa Damiel treats me like a person, not like a weapon.”

I grinned at Faris. “See? I told you she noticed.”

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