Cassandra looked down at him, raising an eyebrow. "The floor is yours," she said.

She couldn't say what she really wanted to do. She wanted to ask questions. It was sort of Cassandra's way. And right now, she found herself deathly curious about those hundred years after her death. But honestly, there was no good way to ask about them. Furthermore, it didn't take an enchanter to sense that Apollo had something else in mind.

But she would make him say it.