Page 66 of Until the End of Ever
“Your initial, fleshly sperm donor, sure. But that flesh was remade from scratch by a magical daddy. A lineage ritual ought to take your spirit to that entity. And the rune thing is the start of a marriage ritual. Aforcedmarriage ritual,” Lucky added with a sneer. “Back in the day, people weren’t so much into letting girls pick, if you know what I mean. I cited three sources; I’ve seenthe details on bondings in a book, and it’s one of them. Can’t quite recall which. Also, I want in.” She said all that in a bored, detached tone.
“In?” Lucian echoed.
“The Perthro Root. I’ve seen one performed a few times. There are street kids with no clue who fathered them. It makes the child connect with their magical root. It was one of Pan’s kids, so we were all meandering through a forest, super high. When it was over, we all gained a fair bit of wisdom when it comes to nature—and some skills, too. Whichever one of the three gods rewrote you? I’m not missing that.”
“How—” I was about to waste my breath asking how she’d come to any of those conclusions, or perhaps even how she’d managed to walk in my privacy barrier without alerting me at all, but after a second, I knew better. “How are we going to get it right without you?”
I glanced between Ronan and Lucian, wondering if they’d protest. The former sighed, the latter shrugged.
The nymph beamed. “I knew I liked you. Now, my cash, if you please.”
Lucian paid up. At the gasps and mutterings from the kids who noticed the exchange of gold, he stepped out of my shield and announced, “Everyone, Aristeia was indeed insightful, but Professor Night misconstrued the prizes: I’m offering a hundred to thethreemost inventive viable theories.”
I snorted. He’d averted a riot and resumed his status as a richer-than-Midas posh git in one fell swoop.
We remained in the auditorium until the end of the study session, and some of the students came up with half-decent ideas, but none came close to Lucky’s guesses. That kid was something else. Especially considering that she spent the rest of the study session snoring in the back while the other students glared.
A shifter with cat eyes, Juliette, gave us another golden opinion that, once said, seemed rather obvious.
Her own presentation glossed over the how to figure out who could have recreated a brand-new person, but she said, “Whichever god is responsible for the target’s change, it stands to reason that the one responsible for the offensive ritual eleven years later would be that god’s direct enemy.”
On a blackboard, she wrote all three Olympian names, ignoring how the chalk seemed to sizzle a little by the time she was done.
“Zeus was king in Olympus after defeating Chronos. To his two most powerful brothers, he gave the two farthest domains to ensure he wouldn’t deal with their rivalry. By all accounts, Hades and Poseidon were rivals, and envious of each other. When Poseidon got the sea and Hades the underworld, no one was satisfied.” She drew a line between Poseidon and Hades. “But then, Hades got Persephone, who literally everyone desired. He won.” The line was completed with an arrow, pointing at Poseidon. “If Hades recreated the target, Poseidon is the most likely enemy. Hades’s resentment might not be directed towards the sea, but he’s still pissed that his queen has to leave for half a year, isn’t he?” Another arrow pointed from Zeus to Hades. “And the king of Olympus insisted on that to placate Demeter. So if Zeus saved the girl, it’s probably Hades?—”
“Stop, stop with the names!” Lucian snapped.
The girl was literally half on fire.
“Oh.” She looked down at herself and waved indifferently. “That happens all the time in theology. Bless Hera, queen of the heavens!” she called.
All the smoke died instantly.
“As I was saying,” she continued. "This leaves Poseidon. Frankly, I’m not certain here. It seems like everyone hates him equally—just not enough to directly bother him.”
The presentation was messy, not logical enough to be called fact, but the reasoning behind it was worth considering. Lucian himself had pointed out that knowing who created me could give us an idea about who wanted to control me, but Juliette’s reasoning made us realize one thing. Whatever god had remade me, the one trying to control me wasn’t just my enemy. He washis.
Lucian paid her, and Phoebus, for complex rune translations that didn’t lead anywhere.
Still, in four hours, they’d moved everything along more than Lucian and I had in a week.
27
LUCIAN
“That kid is far too excited about blood rituals,” I grumbled.
Kleos bumped my shoulders with hers. “Kid? Lucky’s only four years younger than me.”
My mind had some trouble processing that, given the fact that I had seen Lucky in azure pigtails what felt like yesterday, but she was nineteen, and therefore, fully entitled to perform any blood magic she’d like. I certainly did at her age.
“She’s super short,” I countered. “That ought to remove three or four years.”
“I’m not sure that’s how it works.” Kleos grinned wickedly. “But if you must ask Silver whether her five foot one affects her maturity level, make sure I’m around to watch.”
I knew better. The last time I pissed that crazy chick off, she went after my roast leftovers.
We’d returned to the manor after Night Academy, armed with a few references to check theories—mostly Lucky’s.
