Only the Olympian descendants knew how the Ritual of the Blood Runes ran. How could Hell’s prince know about it? Axel had insisted that there were moles among the ranks of the Dominions. Just when I was about to question Loki, it dawned on me that the God of War was the biggest traitor of all. He’d sold out Earth and the demigods a long time ago while he pretended to be a superhero and basked in the mortals’ worship.
“The demigods’ trials are child’s play compared to the Hell’s,” Loki spat. “You’ll have to prowl through carnage tomorrow. The weak will be cut down brutally, and you’ll prove to me and all who are watching the game that you aren’t weak. Tomorrow, five hundred contenders will be culled to one hundred, and those one hundred strongest will be admitted to the Academy. Tomorrow, in the middle of the arena, you’ll be their main target.”
“Is it in your best interest that I survive?” I asked.
“Do you have to ask?” he said softly.
“Then why are you still making me walk long distances with no food or drink?”
I swallowed hard. I could no longer feed from my demigods. But somehow, Hell didn’t let me fade, unlike what happened on Earth.
“I thought it’d be nice for us to have some alone time,” he murmured, then put his fingers into his mouth and whistled.
A neigh rippled through the air.
A hot wind gusted over me, tossing my hair into my face.
A stallion with shining black hair appeared in the sky and shot toward us, a chariot hurling behind. He exhaled a plume of smoke, and his hooves galloped along hellfire.
I stumbled back and ducked. If his flaming hooves hit my head, it would crack my skull.
Loki’s large hands grabbed my waist without warning. Just as I was about to punch him in the face, he lifted me and tossed me onto the seat of the chariot.
The next second, he stood beside me, cocked his head back, and laughed.
“Why is this funny, fucker?” I hissed. I was so not in the mood.
“I aim to impress, Princess,” he said. “Your adventure in Hell just started.”
“Adventure my ass.”
The sadist was going to throw me into a pit and let me fight my way out of the carnage tomorrow.
Hell’s psychopathic prince only laughed harder and wiped a tear from the corner of his eye.
The stallion soared into the burning sky while I tried to find my balance at the sudden jerky motions. The horse had to be doing it intentionally.
“Fucking animal,” I said.
“Picasso won’t appreciate name-calling,” Loki warned. “He’s very sensitive.”
CHAPTER 7
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