CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Atalanta

Ophelos’s hand arcs down. I swear I hear it slice through the air. Hippomenes and I launch forward, dust erupting beneath us. Adrenaline seeps through my veins, enough to make my body vibrate with energy. The golden blade is secured on a belt beneath my tunic. The cool metal spurs me on further and faster.

The crowd roars in my ears, and I shove it aside. I don’t have time to glance over to Kahina and Phelix, but I keep their faces in the forefront of my mind. This is for them, for Meleager. For me. The curves my feet dig into are familiar now—I know how this track twists and levels off. I was born to win this. I remember Kahina’s voice, low and excited, when she whispered this idea to me.

Hippomenes hovers in my periphery. I slow down a fraction, so he can pass me—and I can launch my knife into him. Flashes of the Calydonian Hunt come to me—the six of us tearing through the forests. Meleager’s easy grin. The men’s laughter and crackling bonfires and blades everywhere. Through it all, I remember Hippomenes’s figure lurking and staring, until I felt like the target. Forget the boar.

My arms and legs pump, and I’m running so hard that I feel my braid slowly begin to loosen. No time to readjust. I can see the final bend approaching. He still isn’t overtaking my speed, so I slow down again and reach one hand into my tunic. In response, Hippomenes reaches inside his own tunic. I nearly stop breathing. Will he have a knife too?

But in his hand, he pulls out . . . an apple. A golden apple. He tosses it over his shoulder, and the sunlight glints over it. I frown at him. He offers me a smile, and pours on more speed. I grit my teeth to do the same, but then I freeze.

“Atalanta!” Kahina’s voice shatters through me. My pulse stutters. I swivel frantically, looking wildly for her. Terrifying images hurtle to me—bloodstains, sharp blades . . . a howl of panic surges its way up my throat. My feet dig deep lines into the dirt as I slam to a stop, and a heartbeat later, I’ve found Kahina—she’s where she often is, beside Phelix underneath the towering oak alongside the track. Her eyes are narrowed in furious confusion. She hadn’t screamed. She’s safe. Relief slams into me, but then a sick dread takes its place. I glance warily as the golden apple behind me rolls to a gentle stop. There are other forces at play here.