A line formed between Tuck’s eyebrows. “Because he knows I’d never give it up,” she said, but there was doubt in her voice.

We walked the rest of the way in tense silence, both undoubtedly contemplating the same thing. Did Barry know she wouldn’t give the pendant up? Or was there another reason?

I should’ve known—mortals weren’t that difficult to figure out most of the time, but when Tuck wasn’t willing to give me all of the information, I didn’t have a chance. Hard to put the pieces together when they weren’t all there.

Less than fifty paces from camp, I heard it—the faint sounds of rustling behind us. I froze and held up a hand to Tuck, and she stopped midstep.

Climb a tree. Never in a million years should I have talked to a mortal like this, but we didn’t have much choice. Her eyes widened, and all the color drained from her face. Do it. We’re being followed. I’ll explain later.

To her credit, she only hesitated for a split second before she soundlessly climbed the nearest tree. I didn’t have time to admire her skills—I scampered up after her, and together we balanced precariously on the highest branch that could hold us. She clung to the tree, her nails digging into the bark, and I wasn’t sure which she was more afraid of: me or the people following us.

Four men emerged from the trees within seconds. They wore the same black as the guards from that morning, which helped them blend into the night, and the one on point held up his hand. Beside me, Tuck stiffened. And we waited.

And waited.

And waited.

“They’re gone,” whispered one of the guards, and another one nodded in agreement. The leader grumbled.

“Gotta keep looking. I’d rather not be flayed, if it’s all the same to you lot.”

“We’ll have no chance,” said the first guard. “Not without a trail.”

“Couldn’t have gone far. If we split up, we’ll have a better chance of—”

He stopped cold, and in the distance, the sound of Perry’s laughter filtered through the night.

The boys. They were sitting ducks.

Except for the fact that I was a god and had plenty of options. I took a breath, ready to divert their attention and send them in the opposite direction, but before I could tell Tuck I had it handled, she screamed.

It was an earsplitting scream, the sort that would be heard for miles, and I grimaced. There went our chances of getting out of this. The guards shouted and pointed upward, but all I saw on Tuck’s face was grim determination. The scream wasn’t out of fear; she was trying to warn the boys.

But naturally, as Tuck jumped from the branch and landed on one of the guards, the boys came running toward us. Even if Tuck had planned some sort of signal ahead of time, she severely underestimated what they were willing to do to help her.

Sprout charged through the trees, brandishing a club, with Perry and Mac close behind. He caught the first guard by surprise, bashing his kneecaps, while Perry launched himself at the second. Mac sent his elbow flying into the face of the third, and Tuck continued to wrestle with the leader.

I dropped to the ground. It was chaos—limbs flying, shouts echoing through the night, and the screech of metal against metal as the guards unsheathed their swords. Fists and knees were one thing, but they didn’t stand a chance against weapons.

“Stop!” I called, and at the same time, I pushed the thought into each of their heads. Two of the guards fumbled their weapons, while Tuck’s guard was too busy fending off a choke hold to do much. But the fourth—

The cliché about time moving in slow motion isn’t a cliché for no reason. I’d lived for thousands of years, but that moment was the first time I’d experienced it firsthand. Too stunned to react, I watched in horror as the sword sliced through Perry’s stomach, blossoming from his back. As the guard yanked it out, everyone went still, and Perry looked down at his torso.

Blood soaked through his tunic on both sides, and he fell to his knees, his eyes wide. “Tuck?” he whispered, looking to her for help. But Tuck remained frozen.

I darted to his side. Healing wasn’t my thing—Apollo was better at it than I’d ever be, but I didn’t have much choice. I set my hands on his chest, closing my eyes and willing his wounds to heal. Life drained out of him quicker than I could stop it though, and I cursed. Not now. Not tonight. Not with Tuck watching.

“Stay with me,” I commanded. I didn’t exactly have the pull Zeus did, but to a mortal, it was enough. Perry groaned, tearing up in pain, and I poured everything I had into healing him.

Apollo. I pushed the thought as hard as I could. I need your help.

Whether he heard me or not, I couldn’t tell. Thoughts took time to travel through space, and I willed myself to keep healing. There was only so much I could do with a mortal wound though—I wasn’t Apollo or one of the original six siblings, and my powers were limited.

“Keep breathing.” Another command, but this time much gentler. “You will be all right. Just keep breathing. One breath in, one breath out.”

The space between my hands and Perry’s wound glowed with golden light, and that was enough to stop the guards cold. For now, at least.

Soon enough, however, a dozen more men surrounded us, each stopping as he saw what I was doing. I didn’t care—whether they knew who I was or not, whether they believed in me or not, it didn’t matter. The only thing that did was keeping Perry alive.

At last the biggest, burliest guard stepped forward, his sword drawn and pointed directly at me. “What sorcery is this?”