A stormy look passed over Cato’s face and Teddy immediatelyregretted opening his mouth to ask. He was here for a map, not gossip.
“What did you do to her?” Stella asked.
Cato looked down at the bar. “I told her the truth. Everyone thinks they want the truth, but they don’t wantthetruth. They want what they expect the truth to be.”
The cryptic answer was exactly the type of thing Teddy expected from the god after years of hearing about his talent for skirting the line of deception and manipulation without people noticing.
“We’re here because of the Gauntlet Games,” Stella said. “Your father sent us to retrieve our cave maps from you.”
Cato brushed his hair back from his forehead, revealing a bright white scar through his right eyebrow. Teddy couldn’t help but stare at it. Although he was mortal now, the scar was depicted in all the art of the god of manipulation back in Argaria. Every time Teddy saw it in paint, he wondered what sort of weapon could permanently mark a god.
“Ah yes, he’s certainly enjoying his chance to have a little vengeance,” Cato said. “I’m sure he meant to demean me by making me a tool in his challenge, but the joke’s on him. I love a bargain.” He knocked his hand on the bar three times and his gray eyes lit with a silver glow. “The task is simple except that it’s not at all. You have to trade with me for something I actually want.”
Teddy tipped his head back and blew out a frustrated breath. Of course. Of course he would have to bargain with the very god his parents had warned him constantly to never make a bargain with.
Long ago, his ancestors had made a deal with Cato—so long as a Savero didn’t make a deal with the god, he would never be able to influence them. His entire youth had been filled with warning stories from his parents to never, ever, under any circumstances, trust Cato.
Teddy was about to break that news to Stella when she reluctantly sat down on the stool beside him and rested her hand on his.
“I’d like to bargain for both of our maps,” she said.
Cato’s eyes danced with delight. “Now, what could you offer that might be that valuable?”
“My mother asked me to give you this.” Stella pulled a wax-sealed piece of parchment from her vest and handed it to him.
Cato opened the letter and read it quickly. From what Teddy could see, there were only a few lines on the paper, but Cato stared at it for a few long moments.
The god walked away and returned a moment later with two scrolls. He handed one to Teddy and one to Stella.
Teddy was stunned into silence. He had expected to have to do something wild to get through this challenge. He hadn’t counted on Stella taking care of it for him. He was so relieved. If she hadn’t, he would have had to break another promise to his parents and he’d already shattered their trust in him by entering this stupid contest.
Cato pulled two pints of ale and set one in front of each of them. “Your mother has not spoken to me in twenty-five years. I fear you’re about to find out why.”
Teddy saw Stella prepping to test the drinks.
“No need, baby dove,” Cato said. “Poison isn’t my style. I just know you two will need a drink in a day or two when you retrieve those memories.”
He nodded at them and ambled off down the bar to wait on another patron.
“What could your mother have offered him in that small letter that was worth two maps in this contest?” Teddy asked. “Did she tell you?”
Stella took a long sip of ale, her bright green eyes vibrant in the candlelight as she said a truly unexpected word. “Forgiveness.”
A full stomachand a pint of ale led Teddy to believe their quest was on an upswing, but his hope was dashed immediately when they stepped into their small room in the boarding house.
It was worse than Teddy had expected. There was no plush chair for him to pretend to sleep in. There was hardly any furniture at all—only a nightstand with fresh candles, a hutch to store their clothes and gear, and, of course, one bed.
He paused on the threshold until Stella shoved him inside.
“Let’s go. I want to bathe before bed and you need to, also.” Her gaze lingered on the bed for a moment. “It’s not a big deal.”
“Speak for yourself. I’m used to sleeping alone.”
She muttered something that sounded like “frigid.”
“Are you not used to the same?” he asked.
“No. I’m not.” She smirked as she unzipped her satchel and pulled out what looked like a scrap of blue silk, a linen towel, a bar of soap, and two small jars, one that contained an oil and the other some kind of cream.
