Mind, there’s nothing inherently surprising about finding a drunken old man in the royal garden. I just never expected to see one eating Grandpa’s roses. Horribly undignified behavior for the most respectable house in Phrygia. I leaned over my balcony rail, fumbling through my mental lexicon for the appropriate words to address this situation.
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“You have to admit, Ramses, this round of The Demigods of Demolition was awesome. Watching Hercules pin Nessus the Centaur in three rounds was amazing,” Bernie said.
We were waiting for a taxi and hiding from the varied rush of people and creatures leaving Asterian Arena, home to the Alliance of Legends Wrestling Federation. I’d never seen my partner so animated.
I bury my fingers in the crumbling dirt. The world around me is a dry, desolate place with the broken earth burning into my bare legs where my pleated skirt does not reach. The sun beats down upon my breastplate. Even my own tears have dried out.
The only liquid in sight is Jayson’s blood.
Finding Seph was the easy part. She wore pomegranate-colored sneakers that glowed like taillights in the receding summer light. Stopping her was trickier. Her feet barely seemed to touch the ground as she ran down the boardwalk along the ocean, seagulls following close and squawking at her.
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