I lurch back, nearly losing my footing, but manage to course-correct at the last moment. They land in front of me and slowly raise to stand. The all-black uniform, complete with mask, sends a shiver through me. They’re also quite a bit taller than me. That will work in my favor for once.
They lunge, obviously planning to shove me back off the platform. Instinct demands I scramble back, but I plant my feet and duck down just as they reach for me. From there, my muscle memory takes over. I grab their arm and use it as leverage to stand and send them flying past me… Right to the ground.
I don’t wait to watch them land. I’m already scrambling up the ladder after Atalanta. I haul myself to the top of the ladder and loop a leg over, starting down the other side. The majority of the other champions seem to have chosen the third path, and I catch sight of one of Athena’s people moving through a group of them, sending people flying left and right. Five champions eliminated by the time I descend the ladder.
My feet barely touch down on the next platform when I hear it. A loud whoop and a whizzing sound. I turn in time to see Ajax flying along the rope swing in the center route.
Atalanta shakes her head. “What a fool.”
I frown, trying to judge the momentum. “He might make it.” He’s certainly tall enough to force physics to work to his benefit.
“He won’t make it.”
“Neither will we if we don’t keep moving.”
Atalanta and I turn as one to the next obstacle. A series of panels is suspended just close enough that a person could use their feet and hands to wedge themselves along without falling. In theory. The trickiest part is going to be sticking the initial landing and the dismount, which requires jumping from the panels, grabbing a rope, and swinging myself over to the platform. Time it wrong, and I’ll be just as fucked as Ajax. At least I took off my shoes, so I don’t have to worry about the soles of them slipping.
“At least there are no opponents on this one.” There’s no place for them to lie in wait. I look around. We’re the only two left on this route. The rest of the champions are on the third, and it looks like most of Athena’s people have followed them there. Good.
Atalanta rolls her shoulders. “I’ll take the right one.”
It’s slightly wider, which would make it damn near impossible for me to move well. I glance at the taller woman. “Why help me?”
“I don’t need to fuck with you in order to win.” She shoots me a grin. “I’m currying favor with my future wife.” Atalanta blows me a kiss and then jumps, landing with her feet and arms spread to keep her in place in a way that looks effortless. Only the slight shake of her leg muscles betrays her, but that doesn’t stop her from moving forward.
Gods, what am I doing? Checking out her thighs when I’m supposed to be racing.
I shake my head, take a breath, and leap into the left path. The landing vibrates through me, and I slide a few precious inches down toward the empty space below. I grit my teeth and start forward.
As I inch along, I watch Ajax’s momentum slow out of the corner of my eye. He stops a good twenty feet from the final platform and curses, swinging his body back and forth in an attempt to move closer to the platform. It won’t work, but I have my own problems to worry about.
I’m achingly aware of the time ticking down as I move forward. This is so much harder than it looks. I’m in the best shape of my life, but it takes concentration to ensure at least two opposing limbs are pressing against the panels while still moving forward. I grit my teeth and keep going.
I have not come this far to fail now. I have too many motherfuckers to prove wrong. My siblings. Paris. Achilles. Every single person in Olympus who thinks my value begins and ends with the family and face I was born with.
Atalanta is outpacing me, which tempts me to rush, but a single mistake means ruin. I concentrate on breathing as I move down the panel. Step, press, step, press. Over and over again. By the time I reach the end, my body is shaking. I eye the distance I’ll have to cross to reach the rope and swing to the next platform. It looks like miles. I could make it easily if my muscles were still fresh, but I’m exhausted.
“I can do this,” I mutter. It doesn’t matter if I can or can’t, because I don’t have time to waffle. Every second clicking by pushes me closer to ruin, to the time running out or my body giving out.
I leap.
The second my feet leave the panels, I know I’ve misjudged. I hit the rope several feet lower than I planned, too close to the bottom. The rope swings, but I slide down a few more precarious inches, my legs flailing.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
The platform is higher than I expected based on where I planned to grab the rope, and my momentum is less than anticipated. It doesn’t matter. I have to jump. I release myself at the pinnacle of the swing and slam into the platform, only my upper body clearing it. My breath whooshes out of me, but I don’t let myself freeze up. If I do, I fall.
I scramble for purchase against the flat surface, but I lose an inch, sliding back toward the floor. Back toward defeat. No, damn it. I have come too far. I’m not going to let a little thing like gravity beat me now. I force myself to go still, to think. If I can get a leg onto the platform…
A dark boot appears in my field of vision, and I look up in horror to find one of Athena’s people standing over me. They raise their foot, obviously intending to kick me in the face. Oh fuck, this is going to hurt.
They never get a chance.
Atalanta appears behind them. At first I think she’s simply going to shove them off the platform, but she’s more of a showwoman than that. She hauls them around and delivers a devastating punch to their face. They go boneless and fall to the platform. Holy shit, she just knocked them out with a single hit.
She grins at the crowd and gives a cheery wave before focusing on me. She leans over, medium-brown skin shining with sweat, and offers me a hand. I shake my head. “I’ve got it.”
“You really don’t.”
I hate that she might be right. My arms quiver, but I shake my head. “I’ve got it.”
She makes an impatient sound, her tone exasperated. “Stop wasting time and take my hand, or I’ll leave you and you’ll fall.”
When she puts it like that, there really is no other choice. I slap my hand into hers and let her pull me up onto the platform. The crowd goes wild in response, the very arena seeming to shake. Atalanta gives me a quick grin, and then I’m in her arms. She doesn’t give me a chance to react before she bends me back into a showy dip and gives me a quick kiss. She sets me on my feet and then she’s gone, racing up the last obstacle, a thick knotted rope that we’ll have to climb to reach the final platform.
There are three ropes, so I hurry to the one in the middle. My arms and legs protest violently at the thought of more, but I’ve worked through that kind of pain more times than I can count. Being a gymnast hurts, sure, but not more than growing up in my father’s house. Really, I’ve been training for this moment my entire life.