Wicked Beauty (Dark Olympus Book 3)

It takes several long, frustrating minutes of weaving through this endless maze before my brain kicks into gear. Athena stated the rules at the beginning. Find the key. Get to the door out of the maze.

She didn’t say anything about how we had to go through the maze.

I eye the walls. They’re ten feet tall at their lowest point and mostly untextured, not leaving grooves or handholds to climb. But one of the potential obstacles I trained for was running up a wall. With enough lead-in, I might be able to make it. It’s hard to tell how wide the walls themselves are, but I used to do the balance beam. They can’t be much narrower than that.

It takes me a little longer to find a section of the maze with enough space to get a good takeoff. Overhead, the clock ticks down, but there’s still plenty of time. I can’t see all the screens from this position, but the ones I can see show the champions trying to work their way through the close paths.

If I do this, they’ll video me.

The others will follow suit quickly. Or at least they’ll try. They’d be fools not to. Whatever advantage being the first brings won’t last for long if I don’t hurry.

I take a deep breath and wipe my damp palms on my clothing. I haven’t seen anything of Achilles or Patroclus yet, and I can’t help worrying about them. My life would be easier if they were both eliminated in this round. I should be seeing this in black and white—what helps me become the next Ares and what stands in my way.

But if they’re eliminated…this strange thing between the three of us ends.

They’re the first people I’ve come across who seem to truly see me. Spoiled brat, yes. Pampered princess, mostly. But the strong, savvy woman beneath, too. Patroclus treats me like I’m something of true value. Achilles just takes my strength as fact. They both regard me as an equal.

It’s a heady thing. Maybe I’m a fool, but I’m not ready to give it up yet.

There’s no time to mull it over now. It doesn’t matter what the clock overhead says; if I don’t reach one of those keys first, I won’t make it to the next round. I haven’t come this far to fail.

I sprint at the wall. It feels a bit like running for the vault in gymnastics, except the vault is a ten-foot-tall wall and I get a quarter of the distance to pick up speed. I take one last step and launch myself at the wall. Up, up, up. My fingertips barely brush the top. I curse as I drop back to the ground and nearly land on my ass. “Fuck.”

The more times I attempt this, the more energy and time I’m wasting, neither of which I can afford. Maybe I should try something else… I shake my head hard. No. This is the best option. I’ve never let a little thing like failing once get in the way of my goals, and I’m not about to start now.

I retrace my steps back down the path and inhale slowly. I’ll make it this time. I have to. My fingers hit the top of the wall and I concentrate on firming them up so I don’t fall back to the ground. It hurts. Gods, it hurts. But I muscle past the pain and pull myself up until I can loop my leg over the top of the wall and drag my body the rest of the way up. At the top, it’s about what I expected. Six inches. Plenty of space. If not for the differing wall heights, I wouldn’t even bother taking off my shoes. As it is, it will be slow going, but I have the advantage of being able to see my path clearer than the other champions.

Around me, the sudden roar of the crowd feels like an almost physical thing pressing against my skin. It’s hard to push it away, to not let it affect me. I force myself to take a moment and survey the maze. It’s a twisty motherfucker, the pathways winding back and forth without any apparent rhyme or reason. I turn carefully and there it is.

The center.

I can follow the path with the foresight of seeing the way through…or I can take a shortcut.

The maze paths are about five feet apart. Not an insignificant distance but not so far that I can’t easily jump it. The center is right there. Maybe fifty feet away. I can get there, get the key, and take the same path back to the perimeter to find the door. The walls might be different heights, but it looks like if I can get up to the higher section next to me, I have a clear shot to the center.

Against these competitors, I can’t afford to be cautious.

More, I’m better suited than anyone to accomplish this with my gymnastics background. Five feet is nothing to cross, and the six-inch top of the walls might as well be flat ground. I can do this.

The screens shift above me and I take three seconds to watch one of the other champions try to run up the wall. He’s quite a bit taller than me and manages to haul himself up, but when he tries to get his leg over, something goes wrong. I wince as he falls back to the ground with a dull thud I can almost feel, even if I can’t hear it over the roar of the crowd. “Maybe I’m the only one who can do this,” I murmur.

There’s no more time to waste. I leap to the next wall and then use my momentum to leap to the third. Again and again, flying over the top of the maze. I vaguely register that many of the screens are showing me now, which means I have to hurry. Even if no one else can successfully scale the walls and use them the way I am—which is a big if—they will all know my location. I might as well have painted a target on my back.

The center of the maze isn’t particularly large, maybe a twelve-by-twelve space. In the center is a steel beam crafted to look like a tree with five branches sticking out. On each dangles a skeleton key.

The center of the maze also contains another champion. Theseus.

He hasn’t seen me yet, but he will as soon as he turns around. I don’t need to take him out. I just need him to stay down long enough for me to get a key and flee. I can climb another wall further into the maze once I’m alone. I don’t stop to think of all the ways this could go wrong. I throw myself at him, using my momentum and a healthy dose of gravity to drive him into the ground before he can reach the tree.

The impact jars me down to my bones. He’s a big guy, but jumping down ten feet hardly makes for a soft landing. Can’t stop. Doesn’t matter how much it hurts. Keep going. I shove off his back and stagger to my feet. The tree is only a few feet away, but I barely make it a step before he grabs my ankle and yanks me down.

This time, when I hit the ground, it knocks the breath from my lungs. I don’t let that stop me, though. Not with Theseus crawling up my body. If he pins me, he might actually kill me. He’ll definitely incapacitate me to ensure I don’t pass this trial.

Fuck that.

I bend at the waist, sitting up and putting as much strength as I can behind my fist when I punch him in his face. It’s barely enough to stun him, but I manage to wiggle a few inches away before he recovers and tightens his grip on my leg. He drags me half under his body with a harsh yank. My bodysuit might have been designed to be hard to hold, but it doesn’t matter when he can wrap most of his hand around my thigh.

Panic takes hold. I am so fucking close to what I want, and this man threatens to stand in my way. “Let go.” I aim another punch at his face.

He just grunts in response and releases my thigh long enough to hammer a blow to my quad. Pain makes me light-headed, but I will not be stopped. Not now. Not by this man.

“You’re fighting a losing battle.” Theseus makes a sound perilously close to a snarl and rears back. “You’re just a pampered little daddy’s girl playing pretend warrior. You won’t win.”

I can’t flip him. He’s too damn big and I’m not in the right position for it. “Watch me.” I grab a fistful of his dark-red hair and jab my fingers into his eyes.

Theseus howls and flinches back. It’s enough for me to scramble out from beneath him. My injured thigh threatens to buckle when I stand, but I grab a key and drape the lanyard over my neck. Each step hurts, but I don’t have time to worry about that now.

I turn in time to see Theseus plant a hand on the ground and stagger to his feet. He teeters almost as if he’ll fall but manages to stabilize. Damn it. His eyes are red and watering, but he must be able to see okay because he narrows them at me. He curses. “You’ll pay for that.”

“Get out of my way or I’ll hurt you for real.” There are two entrances to the center of the maze, but he’s standing in front of the one that leads where I need to go. If I take the other, I’ll have to work my way around the center again, and that’s out of the question. I know my body well enough to know I’m on a timer with this thigh. I have to get out of here before adrenaline crashes and it gives out entirely.

Theseus shakes his head like a bull about to charge. “You Kasioses represent everything wrong with this viper’s nest of a city. You’re not making it past this trial.”

The words send a shiver of true fear through me. I’d considered and discarded the notion that Theseus and his people might be here to attempt a coup on the Thirteen and, by extension, Olympus. Apparently I was right the first time. They truly are here for Olympus. “You can’t win. Even if you take Ares, you can’t win.”

“I’m not the one you have to worry about.” He charges me.

I dodge at the last minute, ducking under his grasp and to the side. Theseus clangs into the tree and staggers back a step, but I’m already moving. I drive a kick into his knee at an angle, using all my strength. It gives with a stomach-turning pop and he lurches to the side, collapsing to the ground.

A dark, sickening desire rises inside me, an urge to stomp on that knee a few more times and ensure he’s truly down. But I resist. It might protect me from this man, but it won’t actually benefit me in the long run. The longer I stay here, the higher the chance of someone else coming in.

I curse and skirt around Theseus. He’s moaning and cursing my name, but he makes no move to rise again. I don’t think he can. Good enough.

My leg aches something fierce. It’s now or never. I take a shuddering breath and break into a sprint. Each step threatens to buckle my injured thigh, but I manage to scramble up the wall on the first shot. It takes longer this time to haul my body up to the top, and by the time I find my balance, I’m panting.

Next is hauling myself up two more sections to the tallest bit I can easily access. I’ll need the height to plot my way to the exit. This is easier, my balance surer, but I’m still overly cautious with my leg. A fall from ten feet would hurt like a motherfucker. A fall from fifteen?

Best not to risk it.

I look up at the screens in time to watch Atalanta nearly knock the Minotaur out with one well-placed punch. I manage a tired grin. “Nice.” I don’t look forward to facing her in the final challenge if it comes to that, but from our limited interactions, I like her quite a bit.

Then I refocus and survey the top of the maze. No one else has joined me up here yet, but I can’t take for granted that there isn’t someone else among the champions who’s capable of it. I have to get moving. Unfortunately, I don’t think I’m going to be able to jump from wall to wall the way I did before. If my leg gives out, a fall will do more damage than Theseus did.

I twist a little, searching for the door to the exit. It’s near the archway we came in, which is in front of me and to the right. I try to control my rapid breathing as I map a path there. It will take more time, but I have a key and I just need to avoid the other champions. I should be able to do it.

The roar of the crowd changes. I thought it was intense before, but it’s nothing compared to the sound that shakes the arena now. It’s bloodthirsty. I turn in time to see the screens switch to Patroclus and Hector fighting.

I gasp as Hector delivers a devastating punch to Patroclus’s stomach. From the look of them, they’ve been fighting for some time. Both sport bloodied knuckles and their handsome faces are broken and bruised, almost unrecognizable. Both weave on their feet as they circle each other.

They’re in the best shape of their lives, but Hector moves more like Achilles…as if on instinct. I can practically see Patroclus’s brain trying to map out his next strike, trying to anticipate his opponent. It would work on anyone else, but not Hector. He’s too quick. I’ve never seen him fight, but he worked under Ares for years before transferring to Apollo. Apparently his time behind a desk haven’t softened him at all.

Patroclus is going to lose.

My heart lodges itself in my throat. I scan the maze to try to figure out where they are. I don’t know if I can help, but I have to try. I don’t think Hector would permanently harm Patroclus; at least, he wouldn’t do it on purpose. But accidents happen, especially in fights, especially when the stakes are so high.

There.

They aren’t far. I could reach them in just a few minutes…but it means going in the opposite direction of the exit. If Patroclus is no match for Hector, I’m certainly not, either. Helping him might very well mean sacrificing my chance to pass the second trial.

Hector lands a punch that snaps Patroclus’s head back. He barely stays on his feet. “No!”

A frustrated roar, heard even over the crowd, has me turning to find Achilles charging down the path. In the wrong direction.

I don’t stop to think. I just scream. “Achilles!”

Somehow he hears me. He slams to a stop and looks up. I point in the opposite direction. “He’s there!” A quick look is enough to map his course. “Two rights. Left. Right. Three lefts.”

He nods and then he’s off, flawlessly following my instructions. Within seconds, he careens around the corner nearest the fight and takes Hector down in a flying leap. He looks as fresh as when we entered the maze, and I exhale shakily. It will be fine. Achilles will take care of Patroclus. He won’t let his lover be killed.

Thank the gods.

I force myself to tear my gaze from the fight. They will be okay. I have to worry about myself right now. There’s nothing else I can do to help, nothing they need my help for. With one last glance at the screens, I leverage myself to my feet and start making my winding way toward the exit.

My leg holds, which is a bit of a miracle, but each step is agony. I catch sight of the Minotaur lumbering through the maze a few paths over. He looks up as I move past, narrowing his eyes. I tense, but he simply turns away, heading for the last few turns between him and the center of the maze.

I stop on the wall across from the door and ease down to drop to the floor. My leg finally buckles and I land on my ass. “Ouch.”

“Impressive.”

I look up to find Atalanta standing over me, a grin on her scarred face. In her hand, she holds a key. I offer back a tired grin of my own. “Right back at you.”

She opens her mouth, but her eyes roll back in her head and she slumps to the ground. Behind her stands Paris. He shakes his head. “Poor thing. She never saw me coming.”

I flinch, my body reacting before my mind fully processes that Paris has knocked Atalanta out. For a moment, something dark flickers across his face and I can practically see him weighing the chance to kick me while I’m down—maybe literally—and his desire to maintain his image as the charming playboy that Olympus believes him to be.

He shakes his head slowly and leans down to snag the key from Atalanta’s limp hand. “Climbing the walls, huh? I knew you couldn’t have gotten this far without cheating. You’re taking that key from someone who truly deserves it. Pathetic.” Paris turns and walks to the door. He inserts the key, opens it, and disappears through.

I stare for a beat, two, three. I didn’t cheat. I went about solving the problem by nontraditional methods, but that doesn’t make me weak. The irony of him accusing me of taking a key from someone who deserves it… I shake my head hard. Damn it, I’m letting him mess with my mind again. I scramble to Atalanta’s side and ease her onto her back.

She’s breathing evenly, and her dark eyes flutter open. “Motherfucker.”

Relief makes me a little dizzy. She’s okay. Or she will be. “I’m sorry.” I can’t stay here, can’t risk suffering the same fate if someone decides to take a page out of Paris’s handbook. I squeeze her shoulder and push away from her. “I’m so sorry, I have to go.”

The only thing that matters is getting through that door and passing the second trial.

I use the wall to leverage myself to my feet and stagger to the door. It takes two tries to insert the key into the lock and twist. It swings soundlessly open and I step through and out of the maze.

Is the cheering of the crowd louder? I can’t be sure, but I straighten my spine and work to keep the limp out of my walk as much as possible. Bellerophon stands just to the side of the door, an unreadable expression on their face. They motion to a bench that wasn’t there when we started this trial. “Wait there, please.”

I nod and walk to sit on the opposite side of the bench from Paris. I can feel his gaze on me, but I refuse to look over. Instead, I pin my attention to the screens overhead. They show the various champions. Several of the others are on the ground, having suffered various bodily injuries. Theseus is still in the center of the maze, leaning against the wall and cradling his knee. I don’t see Hector or the Minotaur.

Achilles is half carrying Patroclus, who looks wounded but—thank the gods—okay.

I fight not to react as I watch their slow progress, heart in my throat. We’re over halfway through the time allotted. They have to hurry up if they want to pass the trial. I press my hands hard to my thighs, fighting to keep my expression even. Will Achilles leave Patroclus behind? Will either of them make it?

Come on. You can do it. Hurry.