“You want to persuade the arrow to hit the target,” he whispers in my ear. “Not force it into submission.”
Surreptitiously, I release some of the tension in my shoulder. I’m still pulling on my bow, but just enough so the arrow points straight ahead.
“Good.” I can hear the smile in Kieron’s voice. “Much better.”
I shut him out and mentally look for my mother instead. Then I lock my eyes on the target and fire my bow. The arrow plunks just underneath it.
“I almost hit it!” I exclaim, my heart beating faster.
But when I turn around to thank Kieron, he’s gone. I scan the dark meadow, but except for a few crushed blades of grass where he stepped, I can’t find any trace of him, not even a shadow.
I know I won’t be able to concentrate anymore. Even Bellerophon would agree it’s enough progress for one day. I retrieve my arrows from the bark of the tree and head back to the villa to rest.
When I enter my room, Amy is out still, probably at the latest party thrown for the challengers. I’m grateful I won’t have to answer her questions. On my bed, a tray with warm soup and fresh bread is waiting. I don’t even bother undressing before slipping under the covers and sipping the marvelous stew. The taste of mushrooms and coriander makes me sigh thankfully. I pick up one of Ariadne’s books and read while I eat, perfectly content for the first time since I landed on Mount Olympus.
Chapter 19
“Where were you yesterday?” Gabriel asks as he keeps stride with my jogging pace around the arena. Looks like we’ve both improved in only a few days.
“Training,” I answer, massaging my sore shoulder. “Bellerophon took me to the campfire meadow.”
“You scared the hell out of me. When he came back to the arena without you, I thought you’d gotten expelled.”
“They can’t expel us,” I tell him. “There’s no way out of Mount Olympus.”
“But then how will we ever get back to Earth?”
His question sinks into the pit of my stomach. For all my scheming and planning, and all my attempts to leave the competition before it starts, I haven’t asked myself this question before. How are we to leave after the competition? What are the gods planning to do with the defeated? Or the victor for that matter?
“Guess we’ll find out,” I answer after a while, trying to keep the panic at bay. Now that I’ve finally retrieved my focus, I can’t let the uncertain future mess it up. “How was the party yesterday?”
“Boring. You weren’t there.”
“But you had Amy.”
Gabriel winces. “She’s nice. But she’s scary.”
I chuckle, which makes it harder to run. Gabriel slows down to match my pace.
“You don’t even look tired,” I muse when I can talk again. “Your arms aren’t sore from the weight lifting?”
“A little bit. But it feels good somehow. I like feeling stronger.”
“I’m happy for you.”
“Well, I can hardly lift Dad still, so it’s too early to feel happy for me.”
“You will,” I promise him. “I know it.” There’s something different about Gabriel, and it goes beyond being in a better physical shape. “Did you see Cupid again?”
His cheeks start flaming.
“You did! Didn’t you?”
“He was at Hermes’s party yesterday,” he admits begrudgingly.
“Did you talk to him?”
“No way. But he may have smiled at me, although I’m pretty sure I made it up. What would he see in me?”
I lean in against him as we finish our ten laps and shift to a walking pace. “I wish you could see yourself through my eyes.”
Gabriel’s blushing intensifies. “I wish you could have seen the inside of Hermes’s palace. It’s a real museum with everything he pilfered over the ages. Every surface is covered in rare artifacts!”
I let his chatter distract me until Heracles dismisses us to train. The heroes won’t be sharing their stories today, apparently.
Instead of practicing in the arena, I return to the meadow. Bellerophon’s arrow is still waiting for me in its tree, taunting me. Maybe I hope to see Kieron again, but I don’t linger too much on this. If he comes, I’ll be happily surprised, but I refuse to let a boy—or god—come between me and my target practice.
Remembering his advice, my grip on the bow is lighter this morning. To have chosen me, a part of it must be alive. Maybe I can really persuade it to aim true.
“Please, help me out,” I whisper, feeling foolish.
The bow quivers under my hand. I close my right eye and anchor my sight on Bellerophon’s arrow. Then I let loose. My arrow zooms across the meadow and notches itself in its target, splintering the arrow it hits in two. I pump the air in victory before reproducing the feat, again and again, until I’m sure it wasn’t a lucky shot. I can actually do this!
I can’t do this.
Jessica pounces on me again. I’ve been keeping her at arm’s length for the past ten minutes, but my legs burn from the constant dodging, and no matter how hard I slam against her, there’s no tripping her. I’m a bird charging against a mountain—hopeless.
When she locks her arms around my neck, I relent and go soft in her grasp. I may as well end the torture faster. She feels my acquiescence and throws me out of the ring, winning the game. A roar of applause hails her victory.
I swat at the sawdust clinging to my dress and pick myself up. Jessica meets my eyes and I nod, acknowledging her triumph. Her dominant leer wavers as if she’s taken aback by my reaction. She’s a better wrestler than I am, always has been. No point being a sore loser about it.
“Gabriel Abelson will now face Andrew Smith,” Heracles announces to the gods in the audience.
A tall, dark boy with high cheekbones and green eyes steps into the arena. He has the voice of an angel, which is what landed him on Mount Olympus in the first place. Despite being incredibly shy, Andrew sang at karaoke night, and Apollo’s powers picked him up from backstage with his golden light. I heard him sing just yesterday at the Luck Goddess Tyche’s palace. Never before has “Saving Grace” sounded so enchanting.
Andrew is well built, and until a couple of days ago, I would have been terrified for Gabriel. But as my friend steps into the wrestling circle, I know he can win. I still can’t believe the transformation he’s gone through in the past week.
In only a few days Gabriel has put on so much weight and muscle I scarcely recognize him. It feels like watching a caterpillar blossoming into a butterfly. And I’m not the only one who noticed—Cupid, who in fact is very handsome and not at all babyish, has been keeping a close eye on my friend.
As the boys face each other, I creep out of the arena, resolved to hide inside the library until our final trials are over. I need space and solitude to nurse my pride’s wounds.
I rub the bruised small of my back as I contemplate my chances. After this crushing defeat, I’m pretty sure I won’t be sponsored by one of the twelve Olympian gods. But I did ace the obstacle course—same as everyone else unfortunately—and my archery display was fantastic. There are worse challengers than me.
On the stairs leading to the library, a cool hand on my shoulders startles me. I miss a step and land awkwardly on my left ankle. Searing pain replaces surprise as I crane my neck to find Kieron on a higher step.
“Does it hurt?” he asks as I wince.
I sigh. “What do you think?”
“I don’t know, Hope. I’ve never been hurt. How did you slip?”
“How? You scared me. That’s how.”
“And that made you falter?”
“That’s what fear does!” I try to put some weight on my ankle. It’s definitely sprained.
He seems genuinely puzzled as he stares at me. “I haven’t experienced fear in a long time.”
“Well, lucky for you. You just scared the hell out of me.”
Kieron holds my elbow to help me down the stairs. “I watched you lose against that girl.
”
“Yeah. You love pointing out the obvious, don’t you?”
He cocks an eyebrow, as if wondering what the problem is.
“It isn’t nice! I’m already humiliated. You don’t need to remind me of my defeat.”
“You didn’t even try to fight back.”
“I did. But I don’t like to fight.”
We reach the library, which is fortunately empty. Even Ariadne is upstairs in the arena, watching the last wrestling games. Kieron helps me onto a chair.
“I’m guessing you’re as strong as that girl. Although less bulky.” Is that supposed to be a compliment or an insult? I don’t understand him. “You held back.”
“I don’t want to hurt anyone. Not even Jessica Grey.”
“The gods expect their contenders to fight back.” He sits next to me. His shockingly pale hair is slightly disheveled, and I fight against the impulse to push it back with my fingers to test its softness.
“Then I guess I’m not cut out for it. Although Heracles promised the competition wouldn’t involve fighting.”
He shakes his head. “When gods are involved, you can always expect a fight.”
I grit my teeth against a new surge of pain radiating from my ankle. “Well, that’s just great.”
“Are you still in pain?”
“I am. But you can’t understand it, can you?” The great divide between us makes me sad. “You don’t know fear or pain. You don’t have the slightest inkling of human emotions. I don’t know why you even bother talking to me.”
Kieron stares silently. The more I talk, the more confused Kieron looks. He also looks impossibly handsome, which doesn’t help me any in organizing my thoughts.
“Would you say you’re a typical human?”
I shift against the back of my chair, uncomfortable under the intensity of his dark gaze. “I don’t know if that’s even a thing. Do you think you’re a typical god?”
“Absolutely not,” he answers while pacing the floor in a circle around me.
“Then I guess I’m not either. Everyone is different.”
“I said I’m not typical, not that gods don’t have a type,” Kieron objects. “There are common characteristics among gods. Their ego, their vanity, their need for power and dominion.”
I have to smile. “You’re not a big fan, I gather?”
He shrugs. “I keep to myself as much as I can. So what defines a human according to you, Hope?”
“I wish I knew. Love, perhaps.” I pause to mull over his strange question. What is common to everyone I know? “Or the need to be loved rather.”
“Loved? Not feared?”
“Definitely loved. Although some settle for being feared instead.”
“Then I guess that is where humans differ most from gods. They are incapable of love.”
“What about your parents? Hades is your father, right?”
He sighs. “Do you picture Hades being capable of love?”
“And your mother?”
“Persephone,” he answers curtly.
I’m intrigued. “Why all the questions about humans?”
“I never talked to a human before, except for you.”
“How come?”
“Long story.” He points to my ankle. “You should have someone check out that injury. Competition starts tomorrow. Goodbye, Hope.”
Kieron’s tall silhouette melts in the dim corridor until he becomes one with the shadows.
Chapter 20
I incline the dressing table’s mirror so I can get a full view of my new dress. The shimmery fabric clings to my shoulders then cascades to my ankles like a silvery waterfall. I love it.
Meanwhile, as expected, Amy is grumbling from the walk-in closet, cursing the gods for making her wear yet another dress.
This new outfit is meant for the closing ceremony tonight, marking the end of training. I still can’t believe it’s been a week already since I washed in off the coast of Mount Olympus.
Despite my crushing defeat against Jessica, I’ve come so far under the old heroes’ tutelage. We all have. Gabriel won against Andrew, a miracle for the scrawny kid he was when he arrived, and Amy, predictably, won her wrestling match against Joan.
I’m still worried about who’ll sponsor me after my defeat, but I try not to dwell on it. I’ll know soon enough anyway.
Amy comes out of the closet scowling. She hasn’t spared me more than ten words since my attempt to escape. Although I still room with her, I miss her.
“Do you think Hermes will sponsor you?” I ask in an attempt to break the ice between us.
“He’d better. I’m the most obvious choice considering I’m the only one he brought here in the first place.”
“I truly hope he does.”
Amy glares at me. “Whatever…”
I ball my fists, the fingernails biting into my palms. “Will you ever let it go?”
I’ve been doing my best to make up for my lie, but she holds a grudge like a dog with a bone. I can’t keep tiptoeing around her any longer.
“Will you ever tell me the truth?” she snaps, her eyes blazing. “I know you weren’t walking on the beach that night, Hope.”
“Why does it matter? It has nothing to do with you.”
“I can’t trust you if you lie to me. And I have no time for liars to begin with.”
I slump on my bed, the excitement for the upcoming ceremony gone. I don’t know why I bother with Amy. I’m not even sure I like her in the first place. And yet I need her to stop being mad at me. I miss my mom and I miss Lily, and Amy’s the only girl I can talk to around here.
“I tried to escape,” I admit, kicking the air emptily with my silver sandals. “I tried to swim away.”
Amy’s gray eyes are still wary as she asks me. “Why didn’t you tell me? Why lie?”
“I was humiliated. I totally failed, and I almost died. You already thought I was crazy wanting to leave Mount Olympus in the first place. What about trying and failing miserably?”
“It is pathetic, but at least it’s the truth,” she says without looking at me.
I sigh heavily. “And now I have to compete and win if I want to help my mom.”
This makes her laugh. She sits next to me. “Don’t get your hopes up. You need to remember you’re competing against brilliant me.”
I nudge her with my elbow. The thought is pretty depressing right about now. I don’t want to fight against her or Gabriel. If I win, they lose, and if my friends lose then I lose as well. There’s no true victory.
“Hope, I know you want to get back to your mother, but I’ve been alone all my life. Honesty is the only thing I can ask from people in my life. The only thing that’s tangible proof I can count on someone. You can never lie to me again if we’re going to be friends.”
“But what if I do win? What will happen to our friendship?”
“Again, get over yourself. I will fight tooth and nail for my wish.” Amy extends her right hand to me. “What about we both swear to give it all we’ve got? And whoever loses promises to be happy for the winner?”
“There are other challengers,” I remind her.
“I don’t care about the other kids. None of them stand a chance. Do we have a deal?”
“Deal.” I shake her hand, wishing I had half her confidence.
Tonight Aphrodite escorts us to an exquisite, cobbled piazza in the center of Mount Olympus’s town.
Twelve divans of plush silk have been set up behind the carved marble fountain. The Olympian gods occupy them, with Zeus and Hera presiding at the center. The fountain represents Naiads spilling water from an urn. The water hits the fountain with the sound of crystalline laughter, enchanting the warm evening.
I thought we all looked dashing in our silver garments, but against the gods’ lavish golden robes and spectacular beauty, we’re nothing but moths circling their flames.
The sweet scent of jasmine hovers in the breeze, squeezing my heart with nostalgia and love for my mother.
This smell is the perfect reminder of why I need to win the competition.
The minor divinities file into the piazza and conjure up seats for themselves. We, the challengers, are left standing. I’m grateful for the ambrosia Ariadne fed me earlier to heal my ankle.
Except for the contenders, I spy only two other people standing. One is Kieron, standing on the outskirts of the crowd in his usual fashion, the other is the Pythia, bent over the fountain as if she were looking for something inside the translucent water.
I crane my neck to find our teachers, the old heroes, closing ranks behind us like a safety net. I look for Bellerophon and smile when he catches my eye. With his melancholy expression and far-seeing steel gaze, he’s become my favorite tutor, and my gratitude for him knows no bounds. In another life, I’m sure we could have been friends.
A lightning bolt streaks the sky and falls straight into the fountain, making the water crackle with electricity.
Zeus’s thunderous voice breaks the awed silence that followed his display of power. “The time has come to compete. This morning, the Oracle of Delphi read the auspices and they were favorable. Your training has come to an end.”
The contenders shift restlessly at the thought of the impending challenge.
“We watched you today, and have selected our challengers. Each Olympian god will pick two champions to sponsor. The rest of you will be eliminated tonight.”
Cold sweat trickles between my shoulder blades. Six of us will be evicted from the competition before it even starts. The question of who will pick me stops being a stress factor. Now I’m wondering if I’ll make the cut at all.
Gabriel, standing beside me, interlocks his fingers with mine. Amy nods confidently at me, as if saying we’ll both make it.
Olympian Challenger Page 12
