“But you never said anything to him?” I asked. “Not even when my mom left him and the academy for good?” Metis shrugged. “After Grace left, Nickamedes was
so angry for such a long time. He threw himself into his job here at the library, and I did the same thing by getting my teaching degree and then working at some of the other academies. Several years later, I came back here to teach. We had kept in touch while I’d been gone, but seeing him again . . . all of my old feelings came rushing back. But there just never seemed to be a good time to tell him how I felt.”
She paused. “No, that’s not right. There were times that I could have told him. I just . . . didn’t. I suppose I didn’t want to ruin our friendship, in case he didn’t feel the same way. Or couldn’t, because of Grace.”
I could understand that too. Before we’d gotten together, I’d told Logan how I felt about him, and he’d told me that we couldn’t be together and then went off with another girl. That had been painful enough. I couldn’t imagine how much harder it would have been for Metis if Nickamedes had rejected her, since they’d been friends for so long. Even if he’d let her down easy, which he would have, she was right. It would have made things awkward between them for a long time, if not forever.
“And then you came to the academy last fall . . .” Metis’s voice trailed off.
“And I reminded him of my mom all over again and how much he’d loved her,” I finished. “How much you both loved her.”
She nodded. “And I felt it would be . . . disloyal to
Grace to say anything to Nickamedes.”
We sat there in silence, both thinking about my mom and everything she’d meant to us. Finally, I let out a breath. My mom was gone, but Metis and Nickamedes were still here, and I wanted them to be happy together, if they could. And I knew that’s what my mom would have wanted too. In fact, I was willing to bet that nothing would have made her happier than knowing her two best friends were finally together.
“You should tell him how you feel,” I said. “Before it’s too late.”
Metis cocked her head to the side and looked at me. “Why do you say it like that?”
“Because I still don’t know how to kill Loki,” I said in a flat voice. “I still don’t know how to use the silver laurel leaves that Eir gave me. I don’t even know which artifact the Reapers were after today, and I doubt that looking at them again will give me the answer. Some Champion I am, huh?”
Metis leaned over and put her hand on top of mine, and I felt a wave of understanding surge through me— along with rock-solid faith.
“I believe in you, Gwen,” she said. “You’ll figure it out, and I’ll be here to help you. Along with Nickamedes, Geraldine, and all your other friends too.”
“I haven’t told them. I haven’t told Logan or Daphne or any of the others about the bracelet or the fact that I’m supposed to kill Loki. I don’t know how to tell them.”
“Why not?”
I looked at her. “Because what if I fail? What if Vivian or Agrona or one of the other Reapers kills me before I figure things out? I don’t want them to give up. I don’t want them to think that I’m their only hope, even though Nike made it sound like I pretty much was. I . . . I just don’t know what to do. About anything.”
Metis squeezed my hand, and I felt another wave of understanding and faith surge through her and into me. “Being a Champion is never easy, Gwen. But Nike believes in you, and so do I. She wouldn’t have made you her Champion if she didn’t think you could somehow defeat Loki.”
“But all she ever talks about when she appears to me is free will and things happening because they’re supposed to and other stupid riddles,” I muttered. “I’m sick of it. I’m sick of all of it. Sometimes, I just wish that it was over—one way or the other.”
“I know,” she said. “Your mom said the same thing to me so many times.”
“And what did you tell her?”
Metis looked at me, her green gaze somehow sympathetic and stern at the same time. “That you’re a Champion. That it’s your duty to do the best you can do and to keep going, to keep fighting, as hard as you can for as long as you can. Because that’s what Champions do.”
“Now you sound like Nike,” I muttered again.
She shrugged, as if she didn’t know what to say to my comparison. Sometimes, I forgot that Metis was a Champion herself, one who served Athena, the Greek goddess of wisdom. So she definitely knew what she was talking about, especially since she’d been fighting Reapers ever since she was my age. Still, despite my own doubts, talking with her made me feel better, the way it always did. Or at least it gave me the strength to keep on going, to keep on fighting, for a little while longer. Just like she said. Just like she always did.
“Well,” I said. “You’re right about one thing.” “What’s that?”
I sighed, then got to my feet. “We might as well go on inside. Duty calls, and all that.”
Metis nodded and got to her feet as well. She started to head up the stairs, but I put my hand on her arm, stopping her.
“But promise me you’ll tell Nickamedes how you feel,” I said. “No matter what happens. My mom would want that. Because you deserve to be happy, and so does he.”
I grinned. “Even if he always gets way too grumpy when I’m late for work.”
Metis laughed, her face a little lighter. She nodded and looped her arm through mine. Together, we went up the steps and headed into the library.
Metis led me through the library, through the door in the wall, and down the stairs to the basement. We moved past the stacks to find Nickamedes and Linus standing at the conference table we’d all gathered around yesterday.
Only now, the table was covered with artifacts.
The shield of Ares, the spear of Sekhmet, the diamond rings of Aphrodite. They were the same artifacts that were in the photos Linus had given me yesterday, the same artifacts I’d seen and touched earlier today at the airport. Weapons, jewelry, armor, garments, and other miscellaneous objects. All just sitting there, glinting dully underneath the lights, and looking perfectly innocent, perfectly ordinary, and not at all like the powerful objects they really were.
Linus and Nickamedes stopped their conversation and turned at the sound of our soft footsteps on the marble floor.