Felix stumbled forward. ‘Stop hurting him.’
‘Control your reactions,’ Servius said. ‘You allow yourself to be taken advantage of.’
‘Maybe others should learn not to take advantage.’
Sizzling rock landed inches from Felix’s foot. It fumed in the dirt before spluttering out. Another followed, and this one caught, snaring the grass in growing flame.
‘Is that what your father taught you?’ Servius smiled. ‘He was terribly young when you were born. An accident, too much to drink at a festival. He almost quit our guild to raise you, but he was our best sneak, so light on his feet. Magical, how he moved. I convinced him to leave you at the temple with the priest while he worked. A solution that favoured everyone.’
Felix spat. His strength still bogged down by the drug, it didn’t fly far, landing in the altar bowl to crackle in the ashes.
‘I can’t imagine the gods will appreciate that,’ said Servius.
‘If the gods gave a damn, none of this would be happening,’ Felix said, needing it to be true.
Seconds of silence passed. An act. An effect. ‘You truly don’t remember who he was. Who your father’s own father was. The reason you carry no family name.’
‘He was human.’ The word fell from Felix’s lips without a thought to how strange a defence it sounded. Of course his father was human.
In his grip, the helmet hummed.
‘He was the last of a dying breed. The blood that flowed from his veins – the same that fills yours – was priceless. I’d spent years tracking rumours, hoping to find something like him, and he was in my lap in Rome all along. Of course, had I known then, I would have kept him. Kept you.’
‘Shut up.’ Felix bared his teeth against another roll of the earth.
‘That first night, you didn’t recognise me,’ Servius continued. ‘But I understand what happened. Your father didn’t want you to remember, so he locked the memories away. Heroes’ minds were made to be manipulated. How else would the gods ensure their children did their bidding? Wouldn’t grow too powerful to be controlled? Think of Hercules. Achilles. What they did when left to their own will.’
‘Felix,’ said Loren, ‘what’s he saying?’
Darius kicked Loren in the ribs, and he stifled a gasp. Flames spread through the grass, a hungry, licking animal. If this didn’t end soon, they would all be made ash.
Servius’s hypnotic gaze locked Felix in place, and he only stared, breathless, waiting.
‘Your father,’ said Servius, ‘was the son of Mercury. What does that make you?’
Numb.
Felix was numb and cold and silent. The impossible revelation floated on the surface of his understanding, refusing to sink in, his mind’s final attempt at keeping him safe.
‘Imagine the possibilities, Felix. Who you could be if you were made whole again, with your power intact. Put the helmet on. Find out.’
‘No, Felix, you can’t—’ Another kick, and Loren doubled over.
Felix’s vision tinted red, but he was shutting down. Words refused to come. Memories tugged at his ankles, his hands, demanding he follow. He couldn’t.He couldn’t.He hated the way Servius said it, as though his identity hinged on the past he lacked instead of who he’d grown to be. That what lay behind the gate in his mind defined him, and nothing else.
‘You wield power I’ve searched for my entire life,’ Servius urged. ‘We could sweep the empire in days, reclaim what was stolen from us. You would make us legendary. Put it on.’
He was Felix. Just Felix. Why couldn’t that be enough?
Felix stared at Mercury’s helmet, its silver wings and empty eyes, the promises and threats stored in its hollow crown.Plane-crosser. Dream-walker. Traverser between the living and the dead. Power waiting to be used.
Abruptly, his question shifted, transformed, glass catching colours under new light, and the helmet echoed with a sharp jolt. He was nobody. He was a pickpocket.
He was just Felix.
But what if that meant something more?
Servius waited, then sighed. He looked to Darius. ‘Start with his hair.’
