Relief hunches his shoulders, and Amir bends over to give her a hug. “Thank you. I’ll do better if I’m not worried about you.”
“Always such a kind heart, my Amir.”
He smiles. The arrogant boy who at first I thought was used to getting his own way in everything has turned out to be someone else entirely. With a kiss on Zeenat’s cheek, he leaves her and walks through the gate and into the woods.
After that, it’s a waiting game. For me, at least. Hephaestus doesn’t say specifically, but as names are called, I have no doubt Boone and I will be last. As usual.
Amir isn’t the only one who chooses to compete alone to save their loved one. Zai does the same for his mother. Meike, too, for her roommate, who I think is older than her by at least a decade.
And Rafe argues with Dex right up to the last second. “I’m strong.”
Dex’s face is a study of regret and determination. “I know you are, sobrino, but your mother would never forgive me—”
“She’d want me to be the man of the house. The gods picked me to help you, Tío Dex.”
They go on and on in circles until Hephaestus calls Dex’s name.
Rafe bolts for the gate, but Dex grabs him by a skinny arm. Every one of Dex’s thirty years is suddenly etched into his scowling face as he marches his nephew over to the god. “Hold him for me?”
To my surprise, Hephaestus scoops the boy up under one arm, like a football, ignoring the pounding of ineffectual fists as Dex nods his thanks, then runs into the woods.
“Dex!” Rafe’s call after his uncle would wrench even the hardest of hearts.
And those are, I think, the easier decisions among us. Everyone else argues for even longer. Trinica is determined that her son must get married and provide her some grandbabies, and he can’t do that if he’s dead. She doesn’t win that argument. Neve doesn’t win her argument with Nora, either.
Diego, in the end, does win his heated debate with his wife, Elena, by insisting that their children need at least one parent in their lives should something go wrong. The kiss those two share before he heads off without her… I have to look away, give them their privacy. But their love is something precious. Something rare. Something worth fighting for.
A feeling Zeus stole from me.
Actually, every goodbye today makes my heart both whither with sadness and warm at the evidence of love in the mortal world. The cruelty of our gods and goddesses is highlighted with every word, every glance, every embrace.
I wish the fucking world was watching this and taking notes.
The guests not running the course are escorted away by the Daemones, no doubt to wait for their champions to finish and find them.
Please let them all survive this.
Selfishly, I don’t think I can watch the loss that Dae went through only a few days ago all over again.
The wait gets worse with every team that’s called. My heart won’t quit tripping over itself. Not for me but for Boone. And for the others. There is no signal when anyone finishes, no way to know if they made it to the top alive.
“Lyra,” Hephaestus says. “You’re up.”
That was fast. Trinica was only called a few minutes ago. It was much longer between teams with the prior rounds. But then, it makes sense, I suppose. She told us her blessing from Hephaestus was invention, the ability to see and understand mechanisms. Like automatons. Her patron certainly gifted his champion a leg up for his Labor. A small smile plays around his mouth, so I know I’m right.
Boone swings around to face me and holds out his hand. “Ready, Lyra-Loo-Hoo?”
I’ve wanted to be on his team for years. Years of watching others get to work jobs with him while I sat back and handled the paperwork.
But I didn’t want it like this.
I have to at least try one more time. “You could wait for me—”
“Nope.” He starts walking, tugging me along behind him until we’re through the gate and can’t turn back.
All that’s around us is the stillness of the forest broken by the occasional whisper of the wind through the pine needles. I take deep breaths and try to tame my heart, try to find a calm I can’t quite reach. We don’t have to win. We just have to make it through alive.
A turn in the path takes us into a deeper section of the woods. Not gloomy but almost enchanting, filled with fireflies that flit around us. And soon, we come to another gate. This one leads onto a drawbridge suspended over a dark-watered moat surrounding a single castle-like tower with a crenellated top.
Like the first gate, the lintel stone has carvings. Hephaestus’ hammers again, and new words.
be bold. be bold.
but not too bold.
“Well…” Boone says. “That’s ominous.”
They’re not words of encouragement—they’re a warning. And the last warning carved into stone didn’t go so well.
As we stare at the words, I remember where I know them from. One of our pledges once nicked a book of Celtic fairytales that we passed around. There was a story about a man who murdered women in his castle, and his fiancée discovered this horrible truth. She learned it because she was curious about the castle he talked about but never showed her and went looking for it on her own.
In the end, curiosity saved her life.
At least, that’s how I always interpreted it. I think that’s why I remember it. It also means that I’m not surprised at the words carved over the tower door itself when we get across the moat.
be bold. be bold.
but not too bold.
