“Hermes, please do us the honor of presenting your gift next,” said Father.

Smitter stood, mischief all over his face, and snapped his fingers. Two pairs of boots appeared. To the naked eye, they looked identical to the ones we were wearing. “These boots will allow you to run as fast as me, like you have winged feet.” He held up his finger. “They only work once, I’m afraid. Use them only in dire need.”

We accepted the boots gratefully, changing into them and placing our daggers into the hidden sheaths.

“How do we make them work?” Lou asked, legs stretched out to wiggle her boots.

Smitter shook his head like Lou’s question was ridiculous. “You run.”

Lou’s nose scrunched.

I rubbed the side of my boot. The smooth rawhide was a perfect fit but nothing enchanting. “So, you are saying the second we run, these will pick up speed?”

Smitter crossed his arms and smiled my way. “Exactly.” He glared at Lou as if to say, See, that wasn’t hard to understand.

“Now for my gift.” My father opened his palm, and a miniature sun grew from a pinprick of light into a glowing ball. From within its heart, the tip of a bronze arrow formed, then the shaft and the copper-feathered fletching. He removed the bronze bow from his back and handed it to me with the bronze arrow. He snapped his fingers, and a slender quiver appeared.

“Just one arrow?” Lou asked.

“It replenishes. Why don’t you demonstrate, Rye?”

At his gesture of invitation, I grabbed the arrow, nocked it into the bow, and pulled back the string. I fired over the open ocean, and the moment it soared free of the bow, a new arrow appeared in the quiver Father held.

“This quiver is never a burden but always at the ready. A bronze arrow to the heart of a siren will kill them just like a bronze dagger.” His lips curled.

Beaming, I stood and embraced my father. “It’s the perfect tool for the job. Thank you. You’ve given us the best chance possible.” My mother’s gift had saved us from five hundred siren guards, and my father’s would save us from the rest. All my doubts vanished.

Father’s chin dipped slightly, but he never confirmed aloud that he’d seen it written in the cosmos.

“Are you even skilled with a bow and arrow?” Lou asked from below us.

Artemis gasped, hands flying to her bosom and mouth. “He’s the son of Apollo, nephew of the goddess of the hunt. How could you even ask such a question?”

My father and I chuckled, not at Artemis’s ridiculous display of outrage, but at Lou’s innocent question. I bent to cup Lou’s face. “I’m one of the best archers in existence.”

Lou knocked my arm away. “You’re a cocky bastard, is what you are.”