Athena walked at the front of the group, searching the dark hallways and rooms. Lore brought up the rear, her eyes shifting between the dark shapes of the others as they walked a few feet ahead, one hand resting lightly against the knife she’d strapped to her thigh again.

Miles met them near the stairs, clutching at his arms.

“Okay?” Lore mouthed.

He nodded, but there was no color left in his face.

“Imposter,” Athena began, keeping her voice low. “How is it possible the killers did not find you and that you know nothing of their identities?”

Lore had been wondering that herself. It had been hunters—the only question was which house they belonged to.

“I hid myself in one of the crates and stayed there until things got quiet upstairs and the security guards stopped doing rounds— Shit!” The Reveler stumbled as his injured leg buckled. Castor’s hands flew out to catch him, but the other new god twisted away, growling.

“Let me finish healing you,” Castor tried again. “I’d prefer if you didn’t pass out or die before you give us the answers you oh-so-generously promised.”

“Then ask your questions, you stupid ass,” the Reveler said, drawing himself up to his full height again. His eyes flashed. “And let me be done with you all.”

Castor gazed back at him, unimpressed. But he was silent for the same reason Lore was—neither one of them wanted to waste an answer by asking the wrong question.

Even Athena seemed to be preoccupied by whatever strategy she was inwardly developing. Her posture was so rigid that Lore was beginning to fear that one more snide word from the Reveler would be answered with a dory driven into his gut.

“Okay, well, I’ll start,” Miles began. Lore opened her mouth to stop him, but it was already too late. “Why did you agree to work with Wrath while Hermes didn’t?”

“Because I saw potential in his vision,” the Reveler spat. “Hermes neither liked nor believed him.”

Lore was about to ask what, exactly, that vision was beyond Wrath killing his rivals and searching for the poem, but Miles spoke again.

“That must have really stung, him effectively calling you a fool and turning his back on you,” he said. “But you didn’t bail until the Awakening, even though you had to have known that Wrath would kill his enemies, which included Hermes—I’m assuming that means that part of your agreement was that Wrath couldn’t kill him.”

Even in the darkness, Lore could still see the way the Reveler’s top lip curled, baring his teeth.

“And if you’re so sure that Hermes hid something here, in a place that’s meaningful to you,” Miles continued, “it means you were in contact with Hermes before the start of the Agon and knew what he was doing in the years between the Agon. Unless you’re just guessing he left something for you and didn’t abandon you, which is obviously also a possibility.”

“He didn’t abandon me.” The Reveler lunged forward, only to be blocked by

a shove of Castor’s hand. Lore gripped Miles by the arm and drew him back behind her, but she suddenly understood what he was doing—getting answers by testing assumptions, not by asking questions.

Lore clucked her tongue. “So, in the end, Hermes wanted nothing to do with you. He didn’t leave you anything. He probably didn’t even say good-bye.”

The Reveler lurched toward her. “You stupid—!”

Castor shoved him again, this time up against the wall. He pushed his forearm into the god’s exposed throat. “Don’t touch her.”

Athena slashed the dory down between them, breaking Castor’s hold. “Enough.”

But she, too, had figured out Miles and Lore’s game. A frisson of satisfaction worked its way down Lore’s spine as the goddess gave her a small smile.

Hermes had disappeared, not necessarily to hide himself from Wrath, but to hide something—something that the Reveler now assumed Hermes had left for him to find. To use.

Lore was about to ask for clarification on Wrath’s plans when Athena spoke first.

“What is Melora’s involvement in all of this?”

“Wait—what?” Lore began.

Athena held up her hand, silencing her.

The Reveler’s eyes were defiant. But when he spoke again, his tone was more measured. “All of you are fools. Wrath’s plans stretch back decades. He plans to end the Agon, but he needs one last thing to put it all into play.”

“The other origin poem,” Lore said. “We know.”

The new god hesitated, clenching his jaw.

“You are not nearly as hopeless about the hunt as you would have us believe, imposter,” Athena said. “Otherwise you would end yourself or invite a mortal to do it. You want to survive. I see it in your eyes. That longing, that need to feel the ichor burning through you once more.”

The Reveler glared at her, but didn’t deny it.

“You have given answers you know we want, yet not the one to the question I have asked,” Athena said. “What role does Melora Perseous play in all of this?”

“Don’t you already know?” the Reveler asked her.

“Answer her question,” Castor said.

The Reveler spat out blood at his feet. “Fine. Wrath needed me for one thing and one thing alone. And before any of you brainless gnats ask, I don’t know the rest of his plans. I just want to find the deepest crevice in this fecked-up world to try to wait it all out.”

“Still not an answer,” Castor said, this time with a new warning in his tone.

“I made a promise, and I’m not going to break it for you assholes,” the Reveler said. “I can only tell you, girl. That’s what he said. Come with me if you want to know, or don’t. I don’t care.”

The Reveler turned and limped up the steps. Lore looked back toward the others, taking in their alarm and confusion.

“We will keep our distance,” Athena said. “But will not be far.”

Lore trailed behind the new god. The others followed, hanging back as they reached the top of the steps.

The new god stopped once he reached the fountain in the center of the indoor courtyard, forcing Lore to close the distance between them herself. He examined the bodies, his expression odd.

Lore heard the desperation in her own voice as she asked, “What is this about?”