All of this is over.
Win, lose, or die.
The nine of us still alive to face this last challenge are lined up shoulder to shoulder. Zeus stands before us, surprisingly subdued. He is not dressed in armor or fancy clothes or modern clothes at all. He is dressed in an ancient traditional Grecian tunic, pinned at his shoulders and belted at the waist. Over that, he wears a forest green cloak that lifts behind him in the breeze and leather sandals on his feet. Maybe he wants to remind us of how ancient he is.
His expression isn’t intense or bloodthirsty or arrogant. None of those things.
Zeus is…serene.
Blue eyes clear, brow smoothed, and an easy smile.
This is different from how I’ve seen him before. Like he knows something we don’t.
I don’t trust it.
While Samuel is here today, looking a little better—not quite so ashen—he can’t win or even tie at this point. A gold band is around his uninjured wrist—Aegis, his shield. Zeus must’ve gotten it back for him. Good. Like me and most of the others, he’s just here to not die.
But either way, Zeus seems a little too calm, given the best his champion can do today is a tie. I think if I were about to lose my crown, and I was an oversize god-baby like Zeus, I’d be a little more panicked.
Zeus spreads his hands wide, offering us a smile of welcome that makes me lean back slightly, because it feels like a snake smiling at a mouse. “Welcome, champions, to your final Labor.”
None of us move. None of us smile back. We wait for the other sword to drop.
As usual, he’s unruffled by our lack of response. Or maybe oblivious. “You have come far. You have lost allies and friends. You have suffered, but you have also fought well. We, your gods and goddesses, your patrons, applaud you and thank you for fighting in our steads as our champions in this Crucible.”
Well…that’s new.
None of the others have thanked us yet. I kind of wasn’t expecting them to. It’s not in their nature to acknowledge mortal suffering. As far as they’re concerned, this is all about them.
His smile falls away, turning serious and even tinted with concern. “As is tradition, the last of the Labors is the most difficult. This will be no exception, and the gods and Daemones will not be here to step in should you falter.”
I glance down the row. Did they catch that?
Did he just tell us the enforcers of the rules won’t be here?
Zeus holds his arms out wide, indicating the desert around us. “This is Death Valley, in the Mojave Desert of the western United States.”
I take a better look at my surroundings. The skies directly overhead are turning darker blue, already awash in stars—not quite as brilliant as Olympus but close. The sunset bathes everything around us in an orangish-pink glow that will turn darker as the sun sinks farther and more silvery in the light of the already risen full moon.
We are standing in a huge, flat area that is solid cracked earth broken by patches of rocks and larger boulders and every so often a particularly stubborn cactus that clings desperately to life.
I know exactly how those prickly suckers feel.
In the distance, to the left and right are mountain ranges. Even from far away, I can see stripes of colors that show all the different strata of rock and soil that built the peaks over eons of crushing heat. No wonder Zeus chose evening for this Labor. I’d heard once Death Valley is the hottest place on the planet. Despite a growing coolness in the still, dry air, heat wafts up from the sand and rocks around us.
“You won’t be able to hide here,” Zeus warns. “But running…”
Now he’s being coy.
“And drumroll, please, for the twist…” I mutter under my breath.
Zai chokes on a laugh.
Zeus shoots me a warning glance, and I stare straight back at him in wide-eyed innocence. He clears his throat. “Behind me is a series of gates.”
I lean to look around him, and sure enough, I can see one about two football fields away. Hard to tell in the dark, but it looks like scrolling black iron bars with the doors open. Only, what’s the point? There’s no wall connected to it. It’s just standing in the middle of nothing. Beyond that, even farther away, is another. Are there more than two? I can’t tell.
“Three gates,” Zeus says.
That answers that.
“The person to pass through the final gate first wins this Labor. And…” Zeus holds up a hand, smile turning sly. “As an added bonus, this challenge will count as three wins added to your total score.”
I swallow a gasp as a murmur moves through the rest of the champions. I don’t dare look to my left or right.
Zeus just upped the stakes.
Anyone can win now, and without having to kill Diego to do it. Or tie him, at least, for those with no wins. But I have a win. I could beat him.
I could win.
Oh my gods, I could fucking win.
For Boone. For Persephone. For Hades—
No, damn it, not for him.
For me.
