Page 98 of The Games Gods Play
That leaves only two. Amir looks at Trinica with his good eye—the other is still swollen shut from his fall, along with bindings wrapping his ribs, a medical boot on one foot, and scrapes and bruises that disappear into the neck of his shirt. That look says he’ll do whatever she does. After losing Isabel, they are the only two Courage virtues left.
She considers Zai and me with a hard stare. Not unkindly—more like she’s weighing all her options.
“I’m not saying we’re allies,” she finally says, “but Amir and I will stick with you for this Labor. Safety in numbers, and any hint, no matter how small, we can get about future Labors is worth it.”
“If you don’t hurt anyone, I’ll tell you anyway. You don’t have to stay with us.”
I glance at Zai. If he were Hades, he’d be pissed, but he just gives me a nod.
Trinica’s expression softens. “I appreciate that. Safety in numbers still stands, and you have that vest on again, which I assume means you have more tools.”
She’s right about that. I grin, and she raises her eyebrows in return, a tiny smile lighting her eyes.
“Let’s figure out a way to take as much of this with us as we can,” Zai says.
Together, the five of us start discussing options with no clue what walking vodka through a cave has to do with testing our hearts.
But at least I’m not beaten to a pulp.
Chalk today up as a win…so far.
50
Don’t Touch
I swipe my sleeve over my face, wiping away sweat. Not that it does much good. It’s not really hot in the cavern, but the humidity is like soup. It has only been maybe twenty minutes, but the sunlight is already dimming above. That nighttime warning is hanging over us as we work as fast as we can.
With a swing, I bury the blade of my axe in a stalk of bamboo, missing where my last strike was. Damn. Throwing my axe? I’m great at that. I can hit a target exactly where and how I want. Chopping with it, not so much. But we decided to make a pallet to drag our half of the vodka, so I keep trying.
A small vine falls in front of where I’m hacking, and I reach out to tug it back.
“Don’t touch that!” Meike yelps.
I yank my hand back like I was bit by a snake as she runs over. She points at the plant. “That’s poison ivy. See the group of three leaves and how shiny they are? Don’t touch those, Liebes.”
Behind Meike, Trinica’s eyebrows inch up. “Do you know plants?”
“It’s one of my gifts from Dionysus.” She offers up this information like it’s no big deal.
Am I the only one wondering what that could mean for us today? It seems the gods would give gifts that might help their champions in whatever game that god had devised. But knowledge of plants doesn’t seem all that handy, even if Meike did save me from days of itching.
“Right. No touching three shiny leaves.” I nod. We all do.
I look up into the skies as a shadow passes overhead. Zai is using his Talaria to literally get a bird’s-eye view—partly to try to stay out of nature and partly to keep watch. He has the Harpe of Perseus in his hand. The famed sword used to cut Medusa’s head off is one of his original gifts from Hermes. Just in case.
Dex and his team came and carried off half the vodka—after a heated argument that we wouldn’t let them take it all. I hope they’re also prepping. Strength, though. Samuel could probably carry a whole pallet all by himself.
But…one of Dae’s gifts, it turns out, is some sort of super sense that allows him to sneak up on us—apparently that’s how he tracked Zai and me down in Olympus. So Zai is keeping watch for him in case they attack. The bigger fear is that Dex uses his helm. It makes sense to injure us so we can’t carry much. Zai wouldn’t see him coming at all.
Every rustle, every scurry of tiny feet under a bush, every whisper of wind and all of us tense.
Only what if they’re already far ahead? What if we’re wasting time? And what in the name of Hades happens at night?
“Did you hear that?” I call up to Zai.
He doesn’t look away from whatever has his attention but tosses me a thumbs-up. I go back to hacking sticks of bamboo with my axe.
“I’m telling you, taking this long is going to get one of us murdered,” Amir says from behind me in a tone riddled with arrogance. I don’t know if it’s coming from being a teenager, being a rich kid, dealing with fear, or all three, but his constant brand of critical commentary has made the thirty minutes we’ve taken so far even longer than it had to be.
