I’m torn between wanting to push him for answers and wanting to find out what the three offerings are. My best friend dating my worst enemy is pretty awful, but I have more important things at stake at the moment. I can grill him later. In the end, the bigger picture wins out.

I flip open Offerings to the Gods without hesitation. “Don’t think I’m letting this go indefinitely.”

Troy smirks and then bends his head over the book. “What does it say? What are the offerings?”

I quickly flip through the yellowed pages. It’s really short, maybe two dozen pages altogether—barely worth the binding—so it doesn’t take me long to skim the key points.

“It’s pretty straightforward,” I explain. “The three offerings are a gold feather, a silver seashell, and a ruby pomegranate seed.”

“That’s it?” Troy frowns. “Does that sound too easy?”

“The items aren’t the tricky part,” I say as I close the book. “Their locations are.”

“I have a feeling I’m not going to like this.”

“You won’t.” I twirl the volume under my finger. “The golden feather must come from Zeus’s eagle, the silver seashell from Poseidon’s throne room, and the ruby pomegranate seed from Hades’s palace.”

“That means . . .”

I nod. “I have to visit their homes.”

Troy is stunned silent.

The homes of the three god kings—also known as Mount Olympus, the seafloor, and the underworld—are not exactly open to visitors. They’re not exactly easy to access, either. Most hematheos go their whole lives without ever visiting any of the palaces, let alone all three. This is not my idea of a fun summer vacation, but a girl has to do what a girl has to do.

Troy sighs as I slip the tiny book into my back pocket.

We get up to leave just as Phoebe and Griffin walk in the door. A gift bag dangles from Phoebe’s hand. They’re stuck here for the summer, just like us: Phoebe because Headmaster Petrolas is her new stepdad, and Griffin because he has nowhere else to go.

I throw Troy a quick scowl—he’d better keep his trap shut about what we’re doing. These two don’t need to be involved. No one else does.

“Hey, guys,” Phoebe says, swinging the gift bag. “What’s up?”

“Hey,” I say back.

Griffin waves. “Hi, Nic. Troy.”

Troy stares at the floor.

Phoebe frowns at me. “I thought you hated libraries?”

“I do,” I reply. “We were just . . .” I glance at Troy, who shrugs helplessly. “Working on something. What are you guys doing here?”

She holds up the bag. “I got Mrs. Philipoulos a thank-you treat from the bakery. For helping with my dad’s trial record.”

“We’re going for a run after,” Griffin says. “What are you working on?”