My bare feet thunder across the sand. I pay no heed to the other runners, my attention focused solely on the challenges before me.

Whistling arrows miss me by a hair’s breadth. I twist out of the way of a spear, spiraling through the air to avoid its pain-lanced touch.

Landing in the grass, I’m sprinting before another volley of arrows can find their mark, knocking my nearest assailant from his feet and stealing his sword in a single movement. Another sword arcs through the air in an attempt to catch my midriff. I slide across the ground, the blade hissing above my face.

I’m racing across the earth, the golden hoop now only fifty yards from my reach. On either side of me, competitors dodge traps. The crowd thunders all around us, filling the stands with their raucous cheers and stomping feet.

Grass gives way to treacherous sand, slowing my footsteps. It’s an extra effort to not fall as the sand clutches at my feet. Another assailant swings a dory in my path, and the sand stunts my jump, the iron tip catching my wrist hard enough to make me yelp.

Nyx sneers and stomps on my arm. A short screech escapes me, my wrist threatening to snap between her heel and the cold stone floor.

The memory of Nyx’s assault is so fresh, so tangible, I nearly scream again. I can feel her heel digging into my wrist as I race across the sand. So helpless then, but not helpless now.

I lithely dodge the next attack, leaping aside as a soldier jabs the dory through the air. I catch the weapon mid-swing, using the man’s weight against himself as I tug it from his grasp. I sweep the man from his feet before he can blink, and then I’m on the move again. My legs burn as I bound over the sand.

Nyx grabs me by the frayed remains of my chiton. She drags me to my feet and slams her forehead into mine. Stars flash behind my eyes before she flings me across the room again.

Only thirty more yards to go, I stumble as I reach the last of the sandy expanse, nearly tumbling into the grass at its edge. The memories are so vivid. I can almost feel Nyx’s forehead cracking against my own again, can almost see the stars that flashed before my eyes.

Another assailant steps forward, bow at the ready. I dodge the arrows he shoots my way, diving behind broken pillars and boulders, using any defense possible. His onslaught slows me, the stream of arrows relentless. I don’t dodge one quickly enough, the arrow grazing my other wrist as I dive behind another pillar.

Another bolt of lightning streaks across the sky. I catch sight of Lykou, in the body of a wolf, leaping for the neck of the centaur. White teeth flash with dark-red blood before my bag weighs me down. I’m pulled into the deep water of the swamp. Even beneath the murky water, the screams and shouts, the rumble of angry thunder, and Apollo shouting my name echo dimly in my ears.

I’m fighting for breath, drowning as surely as I did that summer in Foloi Forest. I’m panting, my skin drenched in sweat—or is that swamp water? I can’t distinguish memory from present, gasps wracking my frame. Lykou barrels past my hiding spot behind the pillar.

If he wins, the gods will have no qualms controlling him to meet their agenda. With a growl, I throw myself to my feet, surging after him. We dodge the arrows as one.

I slide between the bowman’s feet, letting Lykou catch the brunt of his aim. There is one more racer, just ahead, dodging attacks smoothly. Pyrrhus leaps for a rope dangling from the ceiling, swinging across the tops of spears. I don’t have time to marvel at how effortlessly he moves as I jump for my own rope.

I swing across the spears. The weightlessness makes me gasp, and I nearly lose my grip.

My panic doesn’t have even a moment to register before the centaur yanks me by my hair. A strangled scream escapes me. I’m dangling in the air.

I let go of the rope. My body soars through the air and lands just on the edge of the rocks. I spy Pyrrhus’s red hair five yards before me. Arrows bounce around us and one hisses past my thigh, slicing my skin.

Nyx towers above me. Her smirking face fades in and out of my blurred vision.

This is no mere memory. She’s here. In this arena.

My body trembles so hard my teeth rattle. I can almost feel her claws, shredding my skin and bones.

I see you, Daphne.

“You failed to kill me once,” I whisper. My chest rises and falls with rapid breaths, and yet I can’t seem to fill them with enough air. A choked scream lodges in my throat. “You will fail again.”

I search the arena. Her ruby eyes elude me.

But I can feel them. Watching and waiting for me to stumble.

I won’t give her the satisfaction. Shaking my head, I hurtle around the obstacles. A volley of arrows rains down around me.

I wasted too much time. Pyrrhus is too far ahead. I should have accepted Apollo’s damn vambraces. Any extra speed and strength are necessary now.

Growling, I tumble into the field of spears. I dodge their lances. Some are embedded with thorns and jagged edges. My arm brushes one and my skin tears. A yelp escapes me. I’m jumping back and forth, following the blur of Pyrrhus just ahead. My legs and lungs burning, I shoot forward as if launched from a bow.

I’m coming for you.

“I hope you do,” I hiss under my breath. “So I can really kill you, Nyx.”

Her cackle, like the crackling of a fire, must echo around the arena.

I force myself to run faster. All my strength focuses on my thundering legs.

Pyrrhus is mere yards from the hoop.

It is too high for even my strongest jump to reach. Angling my body, I veer toward a fallen column. I leap, landing on the column. Sprinting up its marble length at an impossible speed, I let my body soar.

Just as Pyrrhus’s fingers graze the hoop’s rim, my entire body crashes into it. Wrapping my arms around the cold metal, my body plummets to the ground. I hit the earth hard enough to knock the air from my lungs.

Stars litter my vision and the ocean’s roar fills my ears.

Lykou skids to a halt beside me. He says something, but his voice is too far away.

On unsteady legs, I stagger to my feet. My mouth hangs open, eyes wide as I watch the audience surge from the stands toward me like an enormous wave. The roaring isn’t in my ears. It’s them.

They scream my name, leaping from the stands. I spy my parents, faces glowing with pride. Lykou, grinning widely, takes my hand and raises it to the sky. I raise the other, lifting the hoop toward the heavens. The crowd parts before Helen, who strides forward, holding a cloak the color of blood.

She drapes it around my shoulders and whispers in my ear, “I’m looking forward to seeing you in the palace, Daphne.”

She disappears into the crowd with Menelaus; the people of Sparta surge forward. They clap me on the back, shake my hand, and hug me tight. Lykou’s hand has dropped to my naked hip, and I let it sit there, the joy overwhelming me. Until I see Alkaios’s face in the crowd.

His narrow face is pulled into a stern frown with not even a trace of pride. He’s not looking at me. I follow his gaze until my eyes catch the glare of another.

Pyrrhus stands above the crowd. His entire chest heaves, tan face dark with fury.

In his expression, there is no happiness for my victory. Only anger that I’ve stolen his.