Let the apple rot, even the minutest bit? Halo didn’t hesitate to take a bite. He did wish to know what Erebus knew. Too many unidentified puzzle pieces remained.
“You fool! Have you never read Snow White?” Ophelia slapped the fruit from his hand. “We don’t eat weird apples.”
He swallowed. “Too late.” He’d never been more ready to see the truth. Had never been so eager for anything, really.
They waited in silence for the effects to emerge. Minutes passed, but he felt no different.
Then a full-blown laugh barked from him, and he frowned. Why had he done that?
“What was that sound?” Ophelia demanded, looking here, there.
Another laugh escaped. Then another and another. They flowed from him continuously, creating a joyous stream. The kind of merriment he’d never experienced. No, not true. He’d laughed like this as a child with his mother when they’d played games. He’d toddled around, and she had chased and tickled him.
“Halo?”
He clutched his stomach and bent over, laughing, laughing. Tears poured down his cheeks. This was true ecstasy. Total ease. Possibilities. Connection. The kind of bliss he would’ve experienced on a regular basis if his mother had lived. The kind of elation so many took for granted.
“You are freaking me the freak out,” Ophelia exclaimed. Except, a laugh burst from her, too. Amusement glittered in her eyes. “Seriously. Stop that. It’s contagious.”
“Deep down, you don’t want me to stop.” Moving faster than anyone could track, he gripped her waist and twirled her. “You yearn to play, and I yearn to play with you.”
He took her to the ground—and tickled her the way he remembered being tickled.
“Stop, stop, stop! Halo!” She squealed and squirmed and thrashed, and he soaked up every second. Breaking free, she bolted through the forest, calling, “Catch me if you can, Immortal.”
Oh, he would catch her all right. Halo gave chase. Flashed closer. Reached for her...she darted to the left, avoiding capture.
She giggled and said, “Some all-powerful assassin you are.” A quick glance over her shoulder. “What’s the matter, darling? Did your nymph wear you out earlier? Poor boy.”
“I’ll have you begging for me in a matter of minutes.”
He flashed. Again, she evaded him. Halo throbbed for her. Throbbed and laughed and chased and dove and throbbed some more. Contact! He plowed into her, wrapping her in his arms and taking her to the ground once again, twisting midair to absorb the impact. They skidded, chunks of dirt and grass flying. Two trees uprooted as they plowed into them.
As soon as they stopped, Halo rolled, pinning his prize to a bed of moss. They had reached the babbling brook. Delicate flowers grew at the edges, where foam frothed. A glockfish broke the water and spit out a smaller fish like a bullet before crashing below the surface.
He summoned a shield faster than most warriors could raise one. As soon as the little fish bounced off the metal, he tossed the shield aside and grinned down at Ophelia. She glowed with passion, locks of sable hair clinging to her damp face. Her irises blazed with lust and good humor. Her lips were parted, ready to receive his kiss.
He rubbed against her. Tone silken, he asked, “Would you care to apologize to your male before he oversees your punishment?”
“Punishment?” Her eyelids hooded as she melted beneath him. “Do tell. What’s my crime?”
“You’ve taunted me mercilessly without cease.”
“If you don’t want to be taunted, you should try not to be the most irresistible male in all the worlds.” She undulated against him, meeting his soft thrusts with harder bucks. “How is Erebus enjoying this? We are far from miserable. I’m not sure I’ve ever been so happy.”
“Don’t know, don’t care.” He laughed as he bent his head for another kiss. Was this the kind of male he was meant to be? The one he should have been...but not who he was?
His laughter faded to nothing as his future crystalized. Doomed from the start. Erebus had indeed played the long game, using the tests to elicit Halo’s misery and set him up for a crash. The god had kept his focus on the labor’s conclusion—overseeing Halo’s demise. The god had chosen Ophelia as his champion but in the end, he would name Halo, as Roux had suggested.
Halo would have to die to win.
Erebus hadn’t cared if he himself won or lost the practice rounds because he himself didn’t care if he won or lost the final match. As the god’s champion, Halo could only win the final battle by dying—worse, he would have to name someone to act as the executioner. Whoever Halo chose as his champion. There was no other way. He refused to name Ophelia, which meant he’d have to name one of the Astra.
One of his brothers would be forced to do the deed.
How sweet the apple had tasted, but how bitter its truth. The Astra would be left in shambles, mourning the loss of their brother in arms. They would be ill-prepared for the third blessing task.