“I will help you,” I say.
No time to waste. Catching my hand, he drags me through a side door and down three flights of stairs. Two brawny immortals guard what I assume is one of the entrances onto the field. They look to Eurus, then to me. “This your teammate?” one asks.
“Yes.”
The guard snorts, but opens the door. Eurus drags me through, and we take our places along the perimeter of the field. From this position, I realize how massive the arena truly is, a hundred thousand spectators screaming above, the air violently alive. As for the field itself, in front of each competitor and their teammate, a shut door has appeared. I assume we are to step through once given the signal.
From his seat amongst the Council of Gods, the lightning god lifts a hand. “Begin!”
The doors open. Fifty competitors lunge through the doorways, along with their partners. I glance down at where Eurus grips my hand—my only lifeline.
“Trust me,” he says.
I do not, yet what choice do I have?
Together, we step through.
17
WE ARE SUSPENDED ON THEjagged edge of the world.
Straight ahead: the sea. Its black span spits white foam as it branches and curls, drawing those ruffled collars beneath its surface. A coarse wind drags at my hair and stings my eyes. I squeeze them shut, nausea coating the back of my throat. This is a dream. It’s not real. I am safe. I amsafe.
But the rush and roar of water collapses my strongest shield. No matter how far I travel, the sea always finds me.
I force my eyes open. The field has been transformed, the stands of the arena screened behind a thick wall of haze, the roar of attendees muffled behind whatever enchantment has taken hold. Overhead, the sky is a vicious gray-green, and waves thrash against the cliffs on which we stand. Many of the forty-nine competitors and their teammates have already begun to climb down the bluffs, including the three redheaded Fates.
“We’ll need to act quickly!” Eurus shouts into my ear. “See those boats?”
Eyes slitted against the wind, I spot a collection of wooden vessels moored to a small dock, which juts from an island located perhaps a half mile from shore. And far, far out to sea, beyond the island—a rise of rock. It is there the door awaits, its gilded frame beckoning.
“Can’t we f-fly?” I shout back. Already, dampness has flecked the fabric of my dress, and I shiver, teeth gritted against the frigid autumn air.
“No powers,” Eurus reminds me. “No wings.” His hand comes to rest against my lower back, and my eyes widen. I’m not even sure he realizes he’s touching me. “We’ll have to reach the boats another way.”
Descending the cliffs, he means. I inspect the terrain, but no alternate routes lead to the beach. A few competitors stalk the precipice, hesitant, as I am, to begin that perilous climb.
Heart thundering, I step forward, peering down at the toothed rocks below. To fall is to die. “Are y-you sure—”
“How should w-we do this?” I ask. “Should I—”
An arrow hisses overhead. Eurus catches me around the waist. We hit the ground.
“Did you see where the shot came from?” he barks.
One of his hard thighs slots between my legs, pressing upward against their juncture. It is a hard, heavy heat, and my mind whites out from the contact. An unexpected pulse of warmth floods my pelvis.
“Bird?”
My cheeks sting; my throat goes dry. “N-no…”
Thankfully, I spot the arrow in my periphery. I reach for it, yank the stone tip from the damp earth, and sniff the yellow substance coating the head. Nutmeg and… broth of violet.
My fingers spasm, and I release the arrow with a muffled curse. “The arrows are coated in poison.”
“Can you identify it?” he replies, and the warmth of his breath dives beneath the neckline of my dress, soothing my pebbled skin. As he shifts against me, I stiffen, heat and cold twining through muscle, ligament, bone. Eurus goes still as well.
“Um.” My palm rests against his chest, but he doesn’t immediately pull away as I expect. “Do you think y-you could…?”
