Amazon Princess

by Kate Karyus Quinn

  Rada shushes me when a small woman appears before the opening to the corn maze. She’s petite and perfect, with alabaster skin and flowing blonde hair. It looks like someone made her out of porcelain. She’s too short to be a model, but she could definitely be an actress. Or in a reality TV show about tiny houses.

  Artemis towers next to the woman, her height and muscles emphasizing the other woman’s diminutive beauty. They look about the same age but Artemis gives her a nod when there is silence and says, “Go ahead, Mother.”

  “That’s Artemis’s mom?!” I ask loudly.

  “Yes,” Rada tells me, adding another shush.

  Alaric leans in. “Leto’s one of Zeus’s conquests.”

  “Mother to Artemis and Apollo,” Zahara confirms.

  “Wait, if Zeus is also Artemis’s dad, then Athena and Artemis are sisters, right?” I ask.

  “God family history is almost as confusing as the aristocracy,” Trevor says with a wry smile. “Mostly we just all bang each other and let the plebes sort it out.”

  “That’s…charming,” I say. I was going to say incest, but then Rada dug an elbow into my ribs. You really do have to be careful with the incest jokes around the gods.

  “You will show my mother the respect and courtesy due her,” Artemis says, hitting me specifically with a look of intensity, even though everyone was talking. I guess I did start it. I decide to shut up.

  But even in the silence that follows, it’s hard to hear the tiny goddess; her voice is small and fragile. She sounds almost scared.

  “I am Leto, the goddess of hidden things.” She stops and pulls Artemis’s arm. “You explain it, dear. You’re better at”—she waves her hand in the air — “all this.”

  Artemis steps forward and her booming voice echoes around us. “This trial is about hiding and finding. My mother, Leto, will be somewhere in the maze. In order to win, you have to find her.”

  Okay, so far so good. Easy peasy. The quiet game. Hide and seek. It’s starting to feel like the gods think humans really are just children...

  Artemis continues, “While you are searching the maze for my mother, you will be hunted by a minotaur.”

  “There it is,” says Alaric, almost to himself. When I lean into him, he cups my ear and says, “We’re not just seeking Leto; we’re hiding, too. You don’t want to be caught by the minotaur.”

  I nod like I know what he’s saying and then lean to the other side.

  “Minotaur?” I whisper to Rada.

  “Head of bull, body of a man. Serious anger issues.”

  Okay. Not so easy then.

  “If you get caught by the minotaur you will be returned to the start of the maze,” Artemis continues.

  “The first one out loses?” Constantine asks, probably thinking how he can easily get caught.

  “No. If you are caught and end up back here, you will have to begin again. Points will be added to your total score.”

  “There’s a point system?” Alaric questions.

  “Points are bad?” Malik asks.

  “Like in golf,” Trevor adds.

  “Yes. Points are bad. The more you have, the lower you are in the rankings.”

  “Now there’s ranking too?” I ask. My brain is starting to hurt.

  Artemis continues her explanation. “The amount of time you remain in the maze will be divided by the times you are caught, made a variable of x, then subtracted from the points you accrue.”

  “Why does this have to be so complicated?” I sigh.

  “The Amazon Algorithm is a time-honored equation,” Rada tells us.

  “You understand it then?” Trevor asks.

  “No. No one really does.” She eyes Zahara.

  “Don’t look at me,” Zahara says. “Nobody’s cracked it yet..”

  Sophia sniffs. “Whatever. It doesn’t matter. I’m going to win this in five seconds flat.”

  “What, like you know something about corn?” I ask, hands on my hips.

  “No,” she sniffs. “More like altitude.”

  Oh, duh. Sophia can just levitate over the maze and spot Leto from above. Not to mention easily go aloft anytime she needs to avoid the minotaur. I’m about to complain that this is completely unfair, when her expression of extreme self-satisfaction fades into quite the opposite.

  “What’s wrong?” Malik asks.

  “I can’t fly!” Sophia looks panicked now.

  “You didn’t think it would be that easy, did you?” Zahara asks. She flaps her wings in a half-hearted attempt to become airborne. “I can’t fly either.”

  Artemis booms at us. “No flying over the corn maze. No going through the walls of the maze. No climbing over the walls of the maze. No setting the corn on fire.” She runs down the list of things we’re not allowed to do, or more accurately of things we won’t be able to do.

  It quickly becomes obvious to us all that we’ve been temporarily stripped of our special powers.

  “Dammit!” Constantine yells, looking mournfully at the front of his pants, which still stick out a solid five to six inches. “Why do I still have my power?” he demands of Artemis, who only shrugs.

  “I don’t see how a massive erection will help you in a corn maze,” she says.

  “A massive erection helps you in only one situation,” Constantine says. “And when that trial comes, gods help you all.”

  “Questions?” Artemis asks.

  We stare at her blankly. She turns to Leto. “Go ahead, Mother.” Leto nods and disappears.

  Artemis looks back at us. “Your time starts…now!”

  There’s a pause, then a mad rush for the maze. Rada is first to enter and I’m left in her dust. Sophia, still pissed about not being allowed to fly, stomps in. Everyone else runs toward the entrance and I follow, but I have a thought and turn to Artemis.

  “Is your mama staying in one place? Or is she moving around like us?” I ask.

  Artemis looks me up and down. “You talk too much, Brandee Jean, but in this instance you have used your words well.” Something sorta like respect makes her face a little less disapproving. “Once hidden, she’ll remain still.”

  I nod once and enter the maze.

  Even though the others were only a few seconds ahead of me, there’s no one else around. I turn and the entrance has disappeared. Even the walls seem taller. Looking up, the previously sunny sky is a solid blue-grey. There’s a guttural moan from deep inside the maze and it makes me shiver.

  This is all the worst horror movie moments rolled into one. Except I still have my shirt on. That’s a good thing. As soon as you see a flash of nipple, you can bet its owner is a goner.

  If there’s one thing I learned by competing in Miss Mighty Maids at the Maize Maze, it’s how to navigate the twists and turns of a corny labyrinth. In order to get where you want to go you can’t run around all willy nilly like a chicken with its head cut off. You have to go about it a certain way.

  I place my left hand on the maze wall and hope the layout doesn’t shift on me. If I follow it ceaselessly, I’ll go the length of the maze, ending up in the center eventually. It might take for-freaking-ever, but at least I know I’ll get there at some point. Like my mama always said, “You can do something right or you can do something fast, but you can’t do both.”

  I start to walk, letting myself meander through the rows, always keeping my hand on the wall. In the distance there’s another guttural moan, then a deep cry of outrage. One of the boys must have been caught and forced to start over. I search for them, hoping for a glance of someone else. An arm. A leg. A moving shadow.

  But there’s nothing. If I hadn’t heard that cry, I could almost believe I’m in here all by myself.

  Despite being completely alone, I can’t stop looking over my shoulder. I got this feeling I can’t shake that someone is near. Glancing back once more, I turn a corner and slam straight into Alaric. He also has his hand on the wall.

  I scream, then laugh. He actually has a slight smile on his
face.

  “I must admit,” he says. “You gave me quite a fright.”

  “You?! I almost just peed my pants!” I put my hand to my chest. My heart is racing.

  “Oh no you don’t!” A voice that sounds like Sophia carries across the maze. “If you put one meaty hand on me I’ll remove it from your arm.” The silence returns.

  “I’d sure hate to be that minotaur,” I tell Alaric.

  “Certainly. He thought he was the scariest thing in the maze, then he came face to face with Sophia.”

  I tilt my head. “Alaric, was that a joke?”

  He looks put out. “I thought some humor would lighten the tension.”

  “No, it was really funny,” I assure him. It’s the least I can do, since I didn’t actually laugh at the joke, and it actually was funny. I nod to his hand on the wall. “You know the same trick, huh?”

  “We had a hedge maze at the manor. Trevor and I would sometimes play there.” His eyes look kind, like maybe it’s a good memory he has of his brother. Suddenly I’m imagining the two of them as small boys, happily running through the grass together. Funny though, I definitely know which one is Trevor in my imagination, because his smile is more of a smirk.

  “It’s nice you have some good memories of the two of you,” I say. “I guess when you were little kids it was easier.”

  “Yes, I suppose it was a bit easier as small children,” Alaric says. “But often it seemed as if Trevor was aware of his bastard status from the moment he was born.”

  “Trevor told me about his mom dying when he was little.”

  Alaric stiffens, his hand dropping off the wall. “Did he?” he asks tightly.

  “Yeah. He said you were…” I guess there’s not a nice way to put it. “He said you were pretty hard on him.”

  Alaric takes a deep breath. “Not that it’s any of your business, but it was my mother who died when we were five. My father moved Trevor and his mother into our home before the body was even cold.”

  I gasp. “Why would he lie about something like that?”

  “Why indeed?” He elbows past me. “Your sympathy is misplaced. My brother is a liar and a rogue. He made my childhood hellish, making up perceived slights to tell my father. He wanted to be what he never could—our father’s heir.”

  “Wait,” I say, putting a hand on his firm shoulder. He turns to me. “I like you better than him. That’s probably not something you care about, but well, I always know where I stand with you. I mean, that place is always miles below you, cause your blue blood elevates you way beyond mere mortals and wannabe beauty queens, but—”

  “Brandee Jean. Stop.” Alaric holds up a hand.

  “Thanks. I was having some word diarrhea there.”

  “Indeed.” Alaric wrinkles his nose. “Well, on that note, we should probably each go our own way.”

  “Right.” I nod and put my hand back on the wall, while Alaric does the same. Carefully we maneuver past one another.

  ‘Brandee Jean,” Alaric calls my name once more and I turn back. “Thank you,” he says simply and then he turns the corner and is gone from sight.

  I think about going after him and telling him that before he stopped me I was about to say I’d really liked kissing him too. But nah. He’d probably just wrinkle his nose and look disgusted again.

  With Alaric gone, I’m alone once more. I stretch and shake both arms out, then put my hand back on the wall and move forward—it’s the only way I know how to go. Around every bend and corner I think I’m going to run into the minotaur. I don’t know who else has been caught and forced to start over.

  Strange noises reverberate; there’s even a sound of a scuffle. Who would be stupid enough to try and fight the minotaur? I shake my head. At least half of the contestants, that’s who. There’s more than pride on the line, I remind myself. There’s a crown and a lot of power behind it.

  I shake off the tension in my shoulders as I continue walking. Being scared of running into the minotaur isn’t going to help me. I take several deep calming breaths—in through the nose, out through the mouth—when I realize there’s another sound.

  I pause.

  Yes, a constant in and out sound. Like someone else is taking big deep breaths.

  Fear shoots through my body.

  I know the minotaur isn’t going to kill me—it’s just supposed to return me to the mouth of the maze—but holy hell, I don’t want to come face to face with it.

  Rada’s description of it was not flattering, and if running into Alaric almost made me pee my pants, I don’t want to imagine what bodily function I might lose control over during a close encounter with the minotaur. And while Artemis didn’t specifically say that crapping your pants figured into the Amazon Algorithm—I’m not taking any chances.

  The breathing is getting louder and I shrink into the wall. My pink camo tracksuit sticks out like a sore thumb. I think of proper camouflage. Normal green won’t do. I picture the perfect outfit made of corn, and my clothes transform. Stalks grow up to cover my face and down to hide my legs. My super strength might have been taken from me for the time being, but it seems our magical uniforms still work. Thank gods for that.

  Sometimes it takes a beauty queen to know that the key to survival is a wardrobe change.

  I am one with the corn, I think as the breathing grows louder. I have become the corn.

  The minotaur turns the corner and I try not to scream, or even budge an inch. It has the head of a bull, great and terrifying. But his chest and upper arms belong to a bodybuilder who went all out on the steroids. He stomps forward on cloven feet, pausing right in front of where I’m hiding.

  His large head studies the spot where I am doing my best impression of a corn stalk. He knows I’m here, but can’t quite find me. The minotaur snorts, sniffing. The warmth of his breath makes me feel ill and the smell makes my eyes water. It’s like a barnyard and a graveyard all at the same time.

  From far away there’s the sound of an argument. Sora and, I think, Malik sound like they’re fighting over the correct words to the Scooby Doo theme song. It seems like they’re trying to change the words to sound more like “Leto Leto loo, where are you?”

  It seems like we’ve officially reached the point in the competition where some people are getting a little loopy.

  For me, the timing couldn’t be better.

  The minotaur’s head turns, then he sprints off in that direction. I stay hidden for a several moments after, my knees shaking with relief. Then I slide to the ground and softly sing under my breath, “Leto Leto loo, where are you?”

  By the time I get through all the words I can remember, I feel better. Back on my feet, I change into an explorer’s outfit, all tans and greens and earth tones. I even give myself a safari hat and imagine my hair up into a jaunty ponytail, just to boost my confidence.

  Mama did always say I should stretch my long graceful neck out more and swing my bottom less if I wanted to be taken seriously. And I’d always tell her I didn’t see why I couldn’t do both.

  So that’s what I do now as I start again with one hand on the wall. I raise my chin up high and let my hips swing to the beat of Scooby Doo. Eventually, though, my shoulders sag and my feet drag. It feels like I walk for hours, my hand grazing one wall of the maze while I move forward. I hope my plan is working and I’m not just stuck in an endless loop, wandering the maze forever.

  At least I haven’t been caught, so even though the Amazon Algorithm may be confusing, there’s no way I’m losing this thing.

  I round a corner and find someone face down in the path, my toe catching in their ribs. I stumble, falling forward, my knees going into the softness of a stomach. I roll, coming up on my elbows to discover it’s Sora.

  “Sorry,” I say quickly. “I didn’t mean to kick you. At least it wasn’t your face, right? I mean if I broke your nose or knocked out some of your teeth, I’d never forgive—”

  I stop, my words coming to a halt as I realize he’s not moving.


  “Sora?” I ask, crawling closer to him. “Are you playing dead for the minotaur? Cause he’s not anywhere around here, I don’t think.”

  I put a hand on his chest, which doesn’t seem to be rising or falling.

  Nervous, I start to babble. “Hey, um, I heard you singing the Scooby Doo song and I really liked it and—”

  I continue talking as I give Sora a little shake, certain he just got bored and fell asleep. As his head falls back, unblinking, unseeing eyes stare back at me.

  Once more, I find myself at a loss for words around Sora. But this time, it’s not because he’s beautiful.

  It’s because he’s dead.

  I might be speechless, but I’m not soundless. I can still scream. Real loud too.

  In fact, it’s really hard to stop.

  18

  Screaming doesn’t bring help.

  I don’t know if that’s an indication of how little my fellow contestants care about me, or if everyone is too far away to hear. I try calling out again, less frantically, but no one comes. I’d even welcome the creepy mouth breathing minotaur right now, anything to get me back to the start so I can tell Artemis what has happened.

  Still no one shows. Not Alaric, with his thin-lipped sarcasm. Not the minotaur, with his cloven hooves. Not even Sophia, with her award-winning side eye. I’m on my own…with a corpse.

  Tears start to form, but they’re not entirely for myself.

  Sora was a nice guy. A total bro, but sweet.

  How did this happen? Artemis said the minotaur wouldn’t hurt us, which doesn’t leave me with any pretty options. Either the minotaur doesn’t know his own strength, has a grudge against us that Artemis doesn’t know about, or—worst of all—another contestant did this. Any of those would mean that I’m in a lot more danger than I thought.

  I wipe my tears and stand, ready to get the heck out of here. But then I see Sora’s beautiful face with his beautiful dead eyes. Crouching down, I help his eyelids close. There, now it just looks like he’s taking a nap. I just need to tip-toe away before he wakes up.