14. Fourteen

fourteen

T he dream started with flashes, sort of like the reel that supposedly played in the moments before death, except the images were from someone’s life.

I stood on a beach in an old-fashioned bathing costume, clutching a silver key in my hand. Water slid from the end of my blonde braid. A boy stepped in front of me, his silhouette blocking the sun. I blinked at him, and the scene changed.

It was dark. Nighttime in a forest. I glared down at a dark-haired girl lying on the ground, fury rising within me. I despised her. She didn’t belong here with the rest of us. What if she beat me? I couldn’t survive that great a humiliation.

The scene changed again.

I stood in a throne room before a royal couple, indignation lurking just below the surface. “That’s because we didn’t attack you!” I shouted at the same girl from the forest scene. “You’re a liar!”

The king and queen didn’t take kindly to my interruption, nor did they entirely believe my accusations.

The scene cut away for several moments before I found myself pulling on a black tunic and matching pants. I brushed and braided my blonde hair sitting on my bottom bunk. Other girls vied for space around a small, shared mirror. I didn’t bother wasting my time. This wasn’t a beauty pageant, and no one had earned extra points for makeup so far.

My grandfather had told me entering this competition was an honor, winning it even more so. He’d spoken of sacrifice and called it our family’s, though I was the only one giving up anything.

Zosia walked by with her friend Iliana, and my stomach clenched. She was the other girl from my village, which meant one of us wasn’t going to make it much longer. Until she’d caught the eye of Prince Stavros, I hadn’t worried that person might be me.

I followed the other girls from the competitors’ compound to the dreary day outside. Gray skies had rolled in again, as they often did on challenge days, like Gaia wanted to illustrate the seriousness of the games.

When we reached the beach to find out what fresh hell the king and council had dreamed up for today’s challenge, my heart sank—heights. I could handle the swimming and the running, and I sort of like logic puzzles, but nothing about the thin plank stretched between two craggy caverns appealed to me.

Baskets large enough to fit a person inside dangled on either side of the catwalk, suspended from a complicated pulley system rigged above.

I caught Deacon, one of the boys from my village, staring at me with a smug expression. He stood with a guy named Zeno. They were both fierce contenders and favorites to go all the way, and they never let anyone forget it.

“Hey, Diana. Can we count on you?” Deacon called.

I focused straight ahead and avoided answering him. He and I started out as allies in the games, but ever since he’d befriended Zeno, Deacon only spoke to me when he needed a favor.

King Orrin’s horse left enormous hoofprints in the sand as the royal entourage drew up to the line of competitors.

“Reaction time is of tantamount importance to a warrior,” he announced. “Today’s activity is meant to test your reflexes. If you are spry enough to traverse the walkway, your competitors will prove a weighty challenge. If your steps are not sure-footed, you will fall of your own accord.”

The king gestured behind him, as if giving a signal. That’s when I realized one of the suspended baskets already held someone. With a cry, he loosened the rope supporting him and his basket, so he swung directly over the catwalk. Had a person been walking across, the basket would’ve knocked them into the water below.

This was by far the most dangerous test yet. Most of the challenges so far had tested endurance or speed, but the consequence for being too slow wasn’t usually death.

Scanning the faces around me, I saw many wore eager expressions. They either wanted to run across the catwalk or, more likely, push someone off it. Zosia looked like she might want to take a swing at me.

King Orrin announced the order in which the competitors would cross the plank. My number was near the end. First, I would take my turn in one of the swinging baskets and attempt to knock the competition into the water.

I followed the rest of my heat to the platforms with the floating sledgehammers and listened as a man with a long red ponytail gave a brief overview on how the buckets worked and which cords and levers to pull to make them start and stop.

Iliana was also in my heat. She kicked my bucket when I tried to climb inside and laughed when I gasped and clung to the sides for support. She was quickly becoming my least-favorite competitor.

Deacon took his turn on the catwalk first. He met my gaze just before the horn blasted, as if warning me not to swing for him. His deft steps easily flew past the initial baskets without being hit. When he approached me, I hesitated.

If I knocked him off the catwalk, I would have a minor victory that might prove troublesome in the long run. I held steady and didn’t release my rope. He bolted forward, timing his steps and pauses to avoid those who chose to swing on him.

In a word, it was impressive. Deacon was the type of guy the games were made for. I doubted my own turn would end nearly so well.

Two more competitors traversed the walkway without issue, both timing things well. To my right, Zosia approached the starting point.

“Hey,” Iliana hissed from the next basket over from mine.

“What do you want?” I snapped.

“This is your chance, you know.”

Against my better judgment, I took the bait and glanced over. “Surely you don’t mean that. I thought you and Zosia were best friends these days.”

Iliana laughed, cold and off-putting. “There are no friends here, Diana.” She shrugged. “Besides, I’m not telling you to knock her off, I’m just pointing out what you and I both know. It’s you. Or Zosia.”

She wasn’t saying anything I wasn’t already thinking. This ultimatum had been on my mind since the games began. The time to be noncommittal was over. I didn’t have a choice. Zosia needed to be eliminated from the competition.

Gritting my teeth, I grasped the release rope with one hand as I clung to the basket with the other. It was game time, whether I was ready or not.

Unfortunately, my timing was utterly shit.

Zosia darted down the walkway, and I released my rope a full second too late. She snuck past me on the backswing. I felt a strange sense of relief, like I’d subconsciously let her have this round.

Iliana shook her head at me. “Think Zosia will return the favor?”

I didn’t have long to go before we found out. My turn arrived and I lined up at one side of the catwalk to wait for the horn blast to signal my start. Every muscle in my body tensed until I believed I would break.

Get it together, I urged myself.

Edging onto the precipice, I appreciated how difficult the task would’ve been on its own- gusts of wind sent the walkway trembling, leaving me with even less stability than anticipated.

“Challenger number eleven, please step forward and begin the challenge.”

I inched out onto the plank and pondered every choice that led me there.

You’re fine , I reassured myself. Just take your time .

Thinking of the position I’d been in on defense, I decided to try a couple fakes. Sure enough, the first guy unleashed his basket too late, and I scurried past before reaching the next obstacle.

A girl named Demy shot me a devious smile; she shouldn’t have transmitted her intentions. I saw her hand reach for the release rope, and I sprinted past her. Too late, Demy swung her basket at me.

I crouched before the third bucket. The guy fumbled with his rope, and I scurried past. Finally, I drew up to three friendly baskets in a row. Wren, Deacon, and Zeno would all let me pass. Then, Zosia was my last obstacle before reaching the opposite side.

As expected, Wren and Deacon did let me by. My confidence surged. But Zeno wasn’t going to let the opportunity slide.

Even as I bolted for the opposite side of the catwalk, Zeno showed his true colors. Not only did he let his holding rope go, but he also leaned back in the basket before it flew, to give maximum impact.

The hit was taken as intended. My crouched form darting across the planks was no match for the impact I received. One moment I clutched at the wooden walkway with enough vehemence to send splinters beneath my fingernails. The next, I flew off the side, sailing through the open air like I might take flight.

As my brain registered what was happening, my body flailed. A drop into water from thirty feet above wasn’t necessarily dangerous, just terrifying.

I wondered about my family and my life and my decisions in the fall. Then I smacked the water with enough force to rack my body with pain. My legs wouldn’t work for an instant, and panic overtook me.

I couldn’t kick to the surface for air with paralyzed legs. The thought sobered me enough to stroke at the water with my arms, forcing my way to the surface.

Somewhere along the way, my tingling legs began to function again. I swam with everything I had in me to reach the members of the king’s guard assigned to shore duty. They watched me with interest but didn’t even pretend to reach for me as I dragged myself onto the sand, sputtering and expelling seawater.

The gagging subsided, and I flopped on my back just in time to watch the next challenger attempt the catwalk—Zeno. He inched across, focused more on walking the high-rise plank than those in the buckets. I soon realized why—no one swung their basket at him. No one dared

Except for one. Zosia let him get all the way to the end and then knocked him over the side of the catwalk, just like he’d done to me.