“Hair,” Max says and as he rifles through my wardrobe, I run a brush through my long locks yanking at the knots. “Braid it,” he says and comes back with two black rubber bands. “It’s hard to say what the trial will be and it’s better to be prepared. You don’t want to lose to Haven Knightfall because your hair was in your eyes.”
“Good point.”
Once my hair is tightly plaited, I stand back from the mirror. I barely recognize myself. I look like one of Ares’s warriors ready for battle.
I don’t mind this new me.
Not at all.
If only I hadn’t fainted at the gifting ceremony.
A horn sounds in the distance. I look at Max. I’ve yet to hear that sound.
His eyes widen and he shoves me toward the door. “Go! That’s the start.”
I quickly give Max a peck on the cheek and say, “Thank you. You’re god-sent,” and then fly out of the room.
When I barrel into the back garden, I find the other descendants standing in a row in front of Monstrat. Hands clasped behind his back, the professor is at the gate that leads out from the garden into the Dark Wood. It’s called such because it sits in a stretch of land between Hades’s House and Mount Olympus where no light lands. Behind Monstrat, the trees shiver in the breeze and their leaves rattle against each other.
Like a snake ready to strike.
As I step in line, I realize I’ve come up on Haven’s left. His gaze lands on me. My belly does a flip and when I meet his eyes, heat burns through my body for reasons I can’t even name.
His expression, for one quick second, looks concerned and he parts his lips as if to ask me a question. And then, remembering himself and our feud, he scowls and says, “Girls at the back of the line, Hearthtender.”
Beside him, Pearce snickers but keeps his eyes trained ahead.
“Shut up, Knightfall,” I say.
“Quiet,” Monstrat calls and I come to attention. “I’m glad you could join us, Ana.”
I give a small nod. I keep cutting it too close though. This is the second time I’ve been late for something here at Hades’s House. Time doesn’t seem to be on my side. I nearly missed the trial and if I had missed the trial, I’d have automatically forfeited my place and found myself walking the streets of the mortal realm with no prospects and no immortal blood in my veins.
The thought makes my stomach plummet to my toes.
“Welcome to your First Trial,” Monstrat says. Moonlight shines behind him highlighting the sharp cut of his biceps.
“The First Trial Game is an old-fashioned game of war. Except there are no teams. It’s every man” —he cuts his gaze to me— “or woman for themselves.” He unclasps his hands from behind his back and lifts them to the moonlight. Ten silver bracelets glimmer in the light. “Each of you will have one of these. All you have to do to win is reach the safe zone at the end of the Dark Wood at the giant oak with at least one bracelet in your possession. Doesn’t matter if it's the one you started with. It only matters that you have one. And should only one of you cross into the safe zone with all ten bracelets in your possession…” He looks over our line. “Well then, I guess you’ve skipped all three trials and will be crowned the winner.”
A murmur races through our ranks.
Haven leans over and whispers in my ear, “You should just quit now.” His breath catches the delicate triangle of flesh beneath my ear and goosebumps erupt over my entire body.
“I’m not letting you win,” I say back, feeling not quite sure of that statement.
“Let?” A dark lock of his hair falls over his forehead. He smiles at me. “No one lets me do anything, Hearthtender. I take what I want. I don’t ask for permission.”
My insides quake. I lock my knees and try to keep my body as still as stone. Like when he carried me to bed just hours ago. I want to ask him why he did it. I want to ask him what he thought of me cradled in his arms. Probably that I was weak, just like he thought.
Instead I sneer at him and say, “Well, I give you permission to lose, Knightfall.”
Monstrat passes out the bracelets. “You have three hours to reach the safe zone. How you reach it, how you gain possession of a bracelet, doesn’t matter to us. There are no rules other than to win.”
He hands me the last bracelet. It’s a thick band of sterling silver that my hand easily fits into. The boys have to wiggle and yank and bend their fingers in order to get the band on their wrist.
I could easily lose mine by accident. It’s too big for me. Probably because they were all made for men. Not for a girl from Hestia’s House who lived on sugar snap berries and dozed in the afternoon sun.
Monstrat steps to the gate and unlatches it. It swings open and creaks on its hinges. Next to it, on a pedestal, is a wrought iron box. The professor lights a match and takes the flame to a wick sticking out the bottom of the box.
“When this cannon goes off, your First Trial has begun.”
The wick catches and sparks. The flame eats its way up. For a fraction of a second, the flame disappears inside the box and my heart leaps to my chest. Anticipation coils in my gut and in my legs.
I’m poised to run. Ready to take off like one of the paper rockets the orphans were always begging me to make.
I can do this.
I can win. Can’t I?
I just have to make it to the oak tree. That’s easy. Just stay hidden until the oak tree is within sight. The boys will be so focused on each other, they won’t even notice me slip by.
Something fizzles and cracks inside the box and then—
BOOM.
The cannon blows and a ball of flame launches into the air.
The boys practically fly through the gate.
I start running, but Pearce’s big meaty arm stretches out in front of me, sidelining me to the ground. My teeth clack together as I hit the dirt and the wind is knocked out of me.
Pearce holds his stomach and laughs.
Haven is beside him watching me. There’s no expression on his face.
“We should get going,” Haven says to Pearce and slaps the bigger boy on the back. “Come on.”
Pearce turns and disappears through the gate.
Haven gives me one last look. “Good luck, Hearthtender,” he says and then he’s gone.
Chapter 17
When I finally manage to get up and enter the Dark Wood, it’s as if the moon has been swallowed whole.
There’s barely any light here. Only the pressing darkness and the rattle of the Wood.
I debate following the winding trail or leaving it behind for a route less traveled, but the trail is clear and devoid of sticks or dried leaves. I’ve no mind for strategy. I’m not sure which is the better pick.
I’m starting to wish I’d have pressed for more studies at Hestia’s House. I should have done something other than picked all those damnable flowers. I should have tried to attain at least one useable skill. Like archery or swordplay or even geography.
With the Wood quiet around me, I leave the trail behind and slowly, quietly make my way to a maple tree with a trunk big enough to shield me.
Shoulder pressed into the bark, I wait and listen. Have all of the boys already surged ahead? I haven’t ventured into the Dark Wood yet so I don’t know how much ground it covers or how far away the great oak is.
Maybe they all have already won and I’m just prolonging the inevitable.
And then I see movement up ahead.
A tall, lean shadow flitting between the trees that looks a lot like Ely.
A second, stockier figure cuts through the Wood gaining quickly on the first person. That’s definitely Pearce.
Without thinking, I step away from the tree and shout, “Watch out!”
The first figure ducks as the second leaps to tackle him. Pearce hits the ground with a thud as the first guy gets back to his feet and runs—straight toward me.
What if it isn’t Ely?
I don’t think now is the time to find ou
t the answer.
I take off. I don’t have the luxury of sticking to the trail now and tree branches whip at my face and tug at my hair. The figure comes within ten yards of me and then falls away.
I keep going north, racing through the aspen and the maple trees trying to keep as much distance between us as I can. Did he find a better target? Or did I outpace him?
A mile later, my throat is so raw, I think it might just catch fire if I keep going. I come to a stop in a clearing and bend over, hands on my knees.
I’m gulping down air trying to get my bearings when someone slams into me and throws me to the ground. Stars dance in my eyes. A new wave of pain shoots through my body.
An elbow comes down on my throat, closing off my already too short air supply.
My last breath is forced out, wheezing past my lips.
With his other hand, the assailant gropes at my wrist. He hooks his fingers beneath the band of my bracelet and yanks it off.
And when he stands up, triumphant, a ray of moonlight finds his face.
“Ely?” I choke out. “It is you. I thought we were friends!” A hot flash of betrayal runs through me. And also embarrassment. Because I trusted him. I really am a damn fool just like Hades said.
“Sorry, Ana. There’re no friends in the Trial Games.”
My throat feels worse than it did minutes ago. I think he might have bruised my trachea.
My bracelet flashes in the light as Ely holds it up. “You gave it a good effort,” he says. “And honestly, you didn’t deserve this fate, but Monstrat and I both agree that—”
His eyes go wide and his mouth drops open. He blinks several times in quick succession like he’s trying to clear his vision. “Mama?” he says in a voice that sounds so thin it might break. “Mama...is that you?”
A shadow emerges from the tree line. His gait is loose and casual as if he’d just come from midnight tea, sated but a little bored.
When he walks into a pool of light, I suck in a new breath and my throat burns for the effort.
Haven. And clutched in his hand is a big stick.
Ely falls to his knees and big fat tears roll down his face. “Please, Mama.”
I scurry back on all fours as Haven cocks the stick over his shoulder like a baseball bat.
I know what he means to do before he does it and my entire body tenses up, braced for a blow.
“Mama!” Ely shouts, oblivious to anything else, trapped in whatever nightmare Haven has created for him.
Haven walks right up to Ely and whacks him upside the head. A loud crack sounds through the clearing.
Ely topples over like a tin soldier, blood running down the side of his face.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
Haven ducks down and scoops up my bracelet from the dirt and then takes Ely’s too.
“Well, go on,” I say. “Tell me you told me so.”
And also please don’t beat me with that stick.
That’s just what I need—a traumatic brain injury when I’m dumped into the mortal realm.
I’m not quivering in fear, but I’m stewing in my failings. Who was I to think I could run with the descendants of Hades’s House?
Haven stares down at me, the stick resting over his shoulder.
He says nothing and tosses my bracelet to me.
It hits the dirt sending up a cloud of dust.
He walks off.
I look from his backside to the bracelet and then again at him. I reclaim what’s mine and race after him. “What’re you doing?”
“You should run, Hearthtender,” he says.
“Why did you do that?”
We’re playing a game, aren’t we? Why would he let me go?
He tosses the stick aside. “You won’t get a second chance from me,” he warns.
I slip the bracelet back on my wrist. “Why did you even give me a first?”
He whirls on me, fury etching across his forehead. I think he’s about to unleash a barrage of insults when he looks past me to the trail and then tackles me to the ground.
For the second (third? fourth?) time I’m on my back in the dirt.
But this time, for the first time, Haven is pressed against me. He shoves my legs open and braces one of his knees between mine.
“What’re you—” I start when he clamps his hand over my mouth.
My breath rushes out around his fingers and so he tightens his hold.
If he so much as lays a hand on me, I’ll—
“Shhh,” he says at my ear.
I go still beneath him. He’s holding himself up to keep the majority of his weight off of me. Him being on top of me isn’t suffocating. If anything it feels enveloping, like a shield.
Wings take flight in my gut.
Does he notice?
Can he tell my body seems to be in disagreement with my mind?
I want—need—to get away from him. Far, far away.
But just then, two figures walk past on the trail. Only ten feet separate us from them, but Haven found us a good hiding place amongst a bramble of blackberry bushes. I can smell the sweetness of the berries in the air.
“Where’d he go?” Pearce asks.
Theo stops to turn a circle. “I don’t know. Should we wait for him?”
Pearce snorts. “Not like he’d wait for us.”
“You think he went after the girl?”
“Why would he? He said his plan is to let her stick around. She’ll be easy to pick off at the end.”
Rage burbles up inside of me. I look up at Haven wild-eyed.
I start to wiggle beneath, ready to throw punches, when the dark forest disappears and I’m suddenly lying on a beach with gulls cawing overhead, hot sand between my bare toes.
It feels like it’s been ages since I saw the sun.
The warmth works like a mother’s lullaby. I’m immediately relaxed listening to the repetitive wooo-shuuush of the waves, the sun baking my skin.
I don’t know how long I’m stuck in that illusion but it doesn’t feel long enough. And when Haven ends it, yanking me back to the cool darkness of the wood, I almost want to weep.
“You’re welcome,” he says, when he finally removes his hand from my mouth.
For a second, I think he means the beach illusion and then I realize he means because he shielded me from Pearce.
I narrow my eyes up at him. He’s still on top of me, still breathing the same air as me, still filling my senses with his bayberry spice and woodsmoke.
He smells like temptation and regret.
“I didn’t ask you to help me,” I bite out. “And besides, it sounds like you’re just keeping me around as a safety net in case you can’t beat the others.”
He laughs. “I don’t need you for that.”
“Then why did you tell Pearce you did?”
His hand brushes gently against my throat. I can feel the bruises blooming already from Ely’s assault. A frown etches itself onto Haven’s face as he examines me. He completely ignores my question and says, “There’s a reason girls aren’t chosen for Hades’s House.”
“And why’s that?”
“Hades’s descendants are brutal. And you’re...well...not.”
“Then what am I?”
“Soft and weak.”
I wriggle beneath him again. “I’m not weak.”
In a flash, he captures both my wrists in hand and hoists my arms over my head, pinning me in place.
His mouth is at my ear again. “Then show me how tough you are, Hearthtender.”
When he comes back up to meet my gaze, his hair falling forward, there’s fire in his eyes. A clear challenge that I can’t tell if he wants me to win or lose. I’m not sure which I want either.
I test his grip, but he doesn’t budge.
Gritting my teeth, I buck up with my hips, but he’s not holding his weight off now and he’s too solid to dislodge.
Haven laughs.
I growl.
“Well, go on then,” he says. “Show me what
you’re made of.”
He knows what I’m made of. He knows better than anyone at Hades’s House and yet he’s still acting like I’m not a threat. He still thinks he’s already won the trial.
If only I could pull on my power when I needed it, I’d show him.
“That’s what I thought,” he says. The smile is gone from his face and replaced with something that’s colder. “You never should have come here, orphan. You should have stayed in your little fantasy world picking daisies for the rest of your life.”
“It’s not like I had a choice!”
My chest grows heavy with frustration. I didn’t want this. I didn’t want to be here. If there’s anyone to blame, it’s whoever my true father is—Hades. Because he abandoned me and left me to learn my power on my own, whatever that power is.
“None of this is my fault!”
Heat builds in my belly.
Haven goes rigid on top of me. His fingers slacken and lose their grip on my wrists. I buck him off and he flops like a statue to his back. Blackness creeps into his veins.
I roll to all fours and climb to my feet.
An electric intensity flows over my skin like silk. It’s as if the air vibrates.
Haven goes wide-eyed but still can’t move.
I can feel my hair lift like I’m underwater.
All I ever wanted was to know who I was.
To have my place.
I never fit in at Hestia’s House and I don’t fit in here.
But if there’s one thing I learned being an orphan at the House of the Virgin Goddess it was that if you wanted to survive in this world, the only person you could depend on was yourself.
The air snaps around me.
All of the anger and frustration I’ve felt my entire life seems to boil in my veins and I clench my hands into fists.
Heat blooms around me like a storm cloud.
The trees rattle in the growing wind.
I stand overtop of Haven and yell, “I will be no one’s pawn!”
The trees bend backward and in one great exodus, the leaves fall from their branches and rain down around us in a cloud so thick, it blots out the moonlight.
Hades Descendants (The Games of the Gods Book 1) Page 8
