Spartan Heart (Mythos Academy: Colorado #1)(10)

A glass display case sat at the end of one of the bookcases along the wall. The case was one of hundreds in the Library of Antiquities, which got its name from all the, well, antiquities that were housed inside. Weapons, armor, jewelry, clothing, and more were displayed throughout the library, all of them used and worn by gods, goddesses, warriors, and creatures over the centuries, many of them possessing magical powers and properties.

I had spent a lot of time in the library over the past year, and I didn’t remember seeing this case before. Curious, I walked over and peered through the glass.

A silver sword that glimmered like it had been freshly polished lay on a bed of dark green velvet inside the case, along with a black leather scabbard. I glanced around, but I didn’t spot an identification card inside the case or a metal plaque attached to the outside that would tell me whom the weapon had belonged to, what battles she had fought with it, and what magic it might have.

Swords were a dime a dozen in the library, and I had started to turn away from it when another gleam of metal caught my eye. I stepped forward, peered through the glass again, and took a closer look at the sword.

Was that…a face…engraved in the metal?

For a moment, I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me, but they weren’t. A round bulge of an eye, a pointed cheekbone, a sharp, hooked nose, a curved chin. All those things joined on the sword’s hilt to form a face—a woman’s face, judging from her heart-shaped lips and the delicate eyebrow etched into the metal. Surprise jolted through me, and I held my breath, wondering if the sword’s eye might pop open and the woman inside the metal might look up or maybe even talk to me.

Nothing happened.

The sword didn’t talk, blink, yawn—nothing. It was like the weapon was, well, just a weapon, albeit one with a very pretty face. Disappointment filled me. Gwen had a talking sword named Vic, who was totally bloodthirsty. Ever since I’d met Vic, I had thought it would be so cool to have a talking sword of my own, but of course, something that amazing could never happen to me.

Sometimes I felt like nothing good ever happened to me.

Sighing, I hoisted the heavy library books a little higher into the crook of my elbow, turned away from the sword, and looked up—and found myself staring at a goddess.

I was standing directly across from Sigyn, the Norse goddess of devotion and the former wife of Loki. Unlike all the other statues, who were standing proud, straight, and tall, Sigyn had her head bowed, and her hair trailed over her shoulders, almost as if she were trying to hide her face behind the long locks. And her expression…it was so sad and mournful and full of regret that it made my own heart ache in response.

Loki had tricked Sigyn into freeing him from the prison the other gods had placed him in long ago, and countless people had suffered—died—because of her mistake. Gwen had told me about Sigyn, how she’d masqueraded as Raven, an old woman who did odd jobs around the North Carolina academy, and how she’d spent years watching over the students there and shielding them from all the evil things the Reapers did on Loki’s behalf. Sigyn seemed to be one of the few goddesses, perhaps even the only goddess, who fought her own battles here in the mortal realm, instead of asking a Champion to do it for her.

I admired the goddess for trying to make things right, for trying to clean up the mess she’d made, for trying to help and protect the people who’d been hurt by her mistake. Those were some of the reasons I’d decided to write my term paper on her.

But the main reason was that I knew exactly how she felt.

I had trusted my parents, believed in them, loved them, and they’d still done all these horrible things. My parents had always told me to help people, to be a good warrior, to fight against the Reapers, when they had done the exact opposite. I just didn’t understand why my mom and dad had been Reapers, why they had thought it was okay to bring pain, death, destruction, and suffering to so many innocent people. I felt like I didn’t know them at all—that I’d never known who they truly were.

And now they were dead, murdered, and I would never know the answers to my questions. Why my parents had been Reapers, why they had tried to leave the group, what kind of future they had really wanted for me. Not knowing made me sadder than anything else. All the questions, all the doubts, had cracked deep down into my heart, splintering away my love and respect for my parents and leaving this jagged, hollow crater behind, this aching emptiness that I could never fill, no matter what I did—

The door to the stairs banged open. I whirled around, expecting an attack, but a Valkyrie and a Roman stumbled through the opening, giggling like crazy. They lurched to a stop, and the Valkyrie looped her arms around the Roman’s neck, stood on her tiptoes, and pressed a loud, smacking kiss to his lips. Gold sparks of magic streamed out of her fingertips and flashed in the air all around them, making them look like a fairy-tale couple experiencing true love’s kiss.

I rolled my eyes. More like true lust’s kiss. In addition to being a place to hang out and gossip, the library was also a popular spot for kids to make out. Couples would often sneak away from the fireplace and the study tables, find a shadowy spot back in the stacks, and play tonsil hockey for hours on end. These two must have had the bright idea to come up to the second floor, where it was even darker and more private.

I had zero desire to witness their make-out session, and I was a little annoyed that they had interrupted my peace and quiet. So I loudly cleared my throat, letting the Valkyrie and the Roman know they weren’t alone. The two of them yelped in surprise and jerked apart, their heads snapping in my direction.