“Fuck,” Hades swears again.
I don’t look away, centering on his swirling gray eyes as I go.
And all I can think is that I’m in my pajamas, without my clothes or tools…or shoes, for that matter. But also without the pearls or what’s left of the dragon teeth, and especially without my relic.
All of that runs through my mind, along with the thought that Hades’ eyes have specks of gold in the silver…sort of like mine.
“You can do this, my star.” His voice follows me into the void. “I’ll see you soon.”
Not the most comforting words, coming from the King of the Underworld.
When I fade back whole again, it’s on a yelp as I immediately tilt forward to gain my balance…over nothing. My arms windmill as I totter on a tiny rectangular ledge, but I breathe a sigh of relief when my ass hits a wall at my back.
I jerk upright, as straight as I can, and my fingers desperately search for a grip on the rockface behind me.
I stay like that for a solid minute, catching my balance and waiting for my stomach to stop twisting, my heart to stop pounding in my chest. I slowly exhale. That was close. Directly in front of me are mountaintops—and clouds.
Hermes. I should have guessed something high up. This god likes to fly.
Anger sparks in my gut, not burning away the fear but giving me the kick I need to do more than stand here trying not to fall. Looking down, I discover that the tiny ledge I’m on isn’t part of the rock wall behind me. Instead, I’m standing on what looks like a block of cement, about a foot wide in all directions, jutting from the mountainside itself. Just enough room for my feet.
With my arms splayed behind me to hold on to the mountain, I look up and see stars—and the top of what appears to be some sort of glass cylinder surrounding me. I’m like a bug in a jar with the lid missing.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” My voice bounces off the glass walls that surround me on three sides—sides that are about two feet away and do not touch the platform I’m standing on.
My words are immediately drowned out by a whistling burst of wind that whirls at my feet from the emptiness around the edges of the platform and tangles the hems of my silky lavender pajama pants at my ankles. Goose bumps prickle as the chilly wind joins the cold seeping into my bare feet against the cement block, and they intensify at the thought that one step forward and I’ll fall into the nothingness between the glass wall and the edge of my platform.
Just a sheer drop, if the echo of my voice was any indication, and death waiting patiently at the bottom.
I glance to my left and right and realize I’m not the only one in pajamas. Glass partitions separate me from the other champions balanced precariously on their own cement blocks, each of us about ten feet apart. That explains why I’m not hearing the others beyond muffled sounds. Zai is directly to my left, and I can’t help remembering Poseidon’s taunt when Zai’s wide eyes meet mine.
I offer a hesitant smile, then look right and swallow. “Damn it all to Tartarus.”
Hermes must really have it out for me.
Dex is to my right, his shaved head turned away as he tries to get someone else’s attention. How is he already dressed in his uniform? Did he sleep in it? The bulk of his body blocks a smaller form, but I catch sight of Rima’s face for a moment, her brown eyes wide and full lips pinched with fear.
Past those two, Artemis’ champion, Kim Dae-hyeon, leans out so I can see his face—not dressed in green for Strength because he’s in PJs like me and Zai. Okay, so we’re not the only ones caught unaware. But why does Dae-hyeon seem at ease while the rest of us are visibly afraid?
Beyond, I catch a glimpse of Neve’s red hair, and past her, the top of Jackie’s head—the only blonde and also the tallest woman in our cohort. Her wider shoulders must be giving her trouble, because Jackie’s moving too much. I want to yell at her to stay still, but she won’t hear me. I can’t see past her as the mountain curves away, but I’m sure the others are there.
Please don’t let anyone have fallen off already.
The clouds just outside our glass barricades stir, and Hermes, along with the four Daemones—two to either side of him—lift gracefully into the night sky to hover before us. The wings of his sandals flutter in a blur like hummingbird wings. He’s slighter than many of the other male gods, and keen intelligence looks out at us from black, almost catlike eyes under the black fringe of his hair. His pale skin glows as though the moon is his own personal spotlight.
“Welcome, champions, to your second Crucible Labor!”
Here we go.
“Today’s Labor is about both smarts and strategy,” Hermes announces. “You will need to be intentional in the way you play.”
He smiles like a villain in a bad movie. “Your challenge is to solve a riddle.”
My stomach twists like a Gordian knot. I am terrible at riddles. I did fine in school—yes, thieves go to school—but riddles? Just no.
“I will give you this puzzle to solve in a moment,” Hermes says. “But first, the rules.”
Of course there are rules.
Hermes unrolls before him, of all things, a scroll. “I have a list to get through. I will only say them once, so pay attention. Each of you will be allowed only three questions to solve this riddle correctly.”
I glance at Zai, whose gaze is trained on Hermes hard, eyes squinted.
“You may have noticed that you are all starting out with a plank that is twelve inches long?” Hermes looks down the line of us. “Every time a champion asks one of their three questions, everyone else will lose an inch from their plank.”
I swallow hard, rubbing my suddenly sweaty hands on my PJs. How much plank could I stand on if I have to? The taller champions with likely the biggest feet—Samuel, Dex, Jackie—are probably in the worst shape, but still, twelve inches is not a lot of space for anyone.
“When you ask one of your three questions,” Hermes says, “six inches will be added to your plank.”
Okay. I get it. The plank being shortened by others asking questions will be counteracted by us asking our own questions. A forcing function. But since we all start with twelve inches, we should still be okay. I hope.
“Once you ask your third question, you have five minutes to guess the answer. If you don’t guess in time, your plank disappears. If you guess in time but guess wrong, you will lose the original inches that you are starting with and better hope the others don’t ask all their questions.”
Always a fucking catch.
“If you are the first to answer correctly, you win my Talaria to use for the duration of the Crucible and you fly off this mountain.”
Those winged sandals, which could fly the wearer out of every Labor, are worth their weight in gold. I can already feel some of the champions changing their minds about trying for them.
