Icy shards bit into her flesh.
Rora spewed out some of the air she’d been holding. To her surprise, her feet never touched the bottom. She waited for it, perhaps too long, before kicking her way to the surface. Her arms and legs grew stiff from the cold, and she trembled violently.
Cold bled into her implant. Her hand stiffened almost to the point of immobility, but there were no electric bolts.
Relief washed over her as she kicked. Her implant wasn’t a complete piece of junk, after all.
Breaking the surface of the water, she gasped. Ice tumbled out of her hair, and her entire body trembled. Clenching her jaw, she forced her legs to kick. One, then the other. As she neared the next wall, her feet touched the ground beneath the water’s surface.
Some kind of platform the wall was anchored to?
Taking a deep breath, she eyed the wall and plunged beneath the surface a second time, kicking with all her might and praying her muscles wouldn’t seize up from the cold. As she swam, she opened her eyes, trying to see in the murky ice water. But it was too dark, so she held a hand up, feeling along the wall above her as she swam. When the wall stopped, she pushed herself to the surface.
Her teeth chattered so hard against each other that she thought they’d crack. But this wasn’t the other side of the wall. She was in the center. A bike ramp from one of their old shows had been flipped upside down and converted somehow. Where she stood was large enough for five men to huddle closely together. Only, she wasn’t surrounded by men.
For a moment, she didn’t feel the cold as she stared at them.
Three dead cyborgs.
A scream tore through her throat, and she clapped a hand over her mouth as her body trembled harder. Only, this time, it wasn’t from the cold.
Asa, the tightrope walker with a cyborg foot, a gymnast whose name Rora had never known, and Charles the stilt walker. They floated, bodies limp. Smoke didn’t trail from their bodies, but she could see blackened flesh from where their cyborg implants must have sparked.
Rubbing away the tears from her cheeks, she accidentally scraped her skin with her cyborg hand. The pain brought her out of her foggy chill, her thoughts forming too slowly.
Gwen’s face appeared in Rora’s mind—how radiant she’d looked in the golden gown, and how, if those had been her last moments of freedom, she would have loved to kiss the tinkerer. Even if whatever hovered between them was a lie.
We are all liars at Cirque du Borge.
Rora plunged back into madness.
Feeling along the wall, she eventually made it to the other side. When she kicked up to the surface and brushed the water from her eyes, she saw three massive tubes with one end in the water and the other sticking straight up. They were attached to some platform far above.
Heart racing, she trudged through the icy waters toward the three tubes. Her body shook violently, and it took every ounce of self-control not to stop and give in to the cold seeping into her bones.
Keep going. If you stop, you’ll lose your hand.
A warmth settled in her chest, and she clung to a deep-rooted determination and flicker of hope. If she was going to perform for the emperor, she had to win. She’d already lost her chance once, and she wasn’t going to do so again.
When she neared the tubes, she noticed the faint outlines of bodies in all three of the tunnels. In the left- and right-most tunnels, the performer in each moved steadily upward. In the center tunnel, the shadow didn’t move but remained at the top.
She couldn’t stall her climb until they finished. Icy shock stiffened her limbs, and her entire body was wracked with chills. When she moved to the left-most tunnel, she found herself hesitating, looking back toward the center tunnel.
Where the body still hadn’t moved.
For a moment, she thought of her dreams of getting a patron, how she had to come in the top thirty-six acts to get past this round in the competition. But her mind immediately retreated to the images of Asa, Charles, and the third cyborg dead in the icy water. She couldn’t let another person die. Not if she could help it.
Diving under the water, she came up at the base of the center tunnel. The tube was slick with water and lacked any handholds beyond the ribbed texture of the tunnel itself. Like the bike ramp, she recognized these tunnels from an old set.
Looking up, she saw the performer at the top of the tunnel tremble, body and limbs twisted. Even though most of what she could see was the performer’s backend, she knew perfectly well who it was.
Thaniel Chors.
One of Abrecan’s closest comrades was stuck at the top of the tunnel.
She shook her head. It had to be him. But she didn’t dare go back now. She’d made her decision.
“I’m coming up,” she called.
Pressing her palms on opposite sides of the tube-like structure, she slowly made her way up the tunnel. When her cyborg hand kept slipping from the wall, water dripping between her robotic fingers, she pressed her back to one side of the tunnel and her feet to the other, shimmying up the tube slowly and pushing beneath her with her hands.
“G-go back,” Thaniel said. “There’s n-no way I’m getting out of this f-fucking tunnel.”
“It’s nice you’re—” She bit back a chill threatening to send her body into spasms. “Concerned for my safety f-for once.”
“F-fuck you.” His words didn’t hold his usual bravado but were quiet and resigned.
Eventually, she was only a few feet from Thaniel. His trembling had subsided, and her breath caught. Was he about to pass out and bring her down to the bottom of the tunnel with his unconscious body?
“Is that how you treat your rescuer?” Locking her knees, she pressed her back against the wall, icy water dripping from her undergarments. She tried to determine where his body started and where it ended. Like Abrecan, Thaniel was a large man, both in height and stature. “I’m going to try to give you a boost.”
“G-go away now, or we’ll b-both d-die,” he rasped, his body going dangerously still.
Moved by impulse, she slammed her fisted cyborg hand into his back.
“Hey!” he cried, his usual obstinacy returning to his voice.
“Quit being lazy and do something for once.”
“You sound like my lovers,” he mumbled.
“You’re despicable.”
Still, he was talking again, which seemed like a good sign.
Eyeing him, she positioned herself below his shoulders, where his head and neck were wedged. “I’m going to push your shoulders up. Try to move on my count. Ready?” She didn’t bother waiting. “One, two, three!”
Stretching her arms up, she heaved, pushing with all her might. Thaniel remained where he was, hardly moving. Hands slipping, she skidded down the tunnel, barely managing to catch herself. He was just too big, and she was far too small.
“It’s n-no use.”
“Again,” she called as she climbed back up beneath him. “One, two, three!”
When he still didn’t move, his body only managing to slide back down toward the frigid water, she shimmied up even farther. In a most ladylike manner, she shoved her head and shoulder into his back and pushed, pressing her hands and feet to either side of the tunnel.
Something slipped, and Thaniel shifted up. The sudden lack of pressure had her skidding back down the tunnel. Before she’d slipped far, a hand gripped her human one.
Above her, Thaniel was upright in the tube with one hand holding her wrist. He nodded to her, releasing her once she got her footing. They both made their way up to the top of the tunnel. When she climbed out, the juggler was waiting for her.
“This doesn’t make us friends.”
“Stars, I hope not,” she replied. “I plan on beating you tonight.”
The corner of his lips twitched. Not a smile, exactly, but it was more than they’d ever shared before.
Thaniel turned from her without a word, moving to their next obstacle. Rora followed.
The two performers who had been in the other tubes were crossing the next obstacle now.
Rows and rows of small gymnastic rings hung suspended over a pit of icy water. Unlike the first rope they had climbed up, here there were enough rings that they wouldn’t have to take turns swinging across.
The man on the left struggled to keep his hold. His hands slipped more and more as he swung from one hoop to the next.
Rora looked down at her own hands, both dripping wet.
The man lost his grip, falling two stories to the water below with an icy splash. Moments later, his head broke the surface, and he swam backward—toward the three tunnels.
Rora gaped.
If they fell, they’d have to climb back up those awful tunnels and risk getting submerged in the icy waters again.
Still trembling from the cold, she wasn’t sure she’d survive another plunge.
Thaniel wiped his palms on his wet shirt before extending a hand out to the nearest hoop at the edge of the platform they stood on. Without further preamble, he swung forward, moving from ring to ring. Rora expected him to struggle with his massive gut, but he moved with ease.
Taking a deep breath, she followed suit. Though, she had to jump up to reach the first hoop. She caught it with her human hand. Short as she was, she had to swing her legs to get enough momentum to swing to the next hoop. Halfway through the course, her arms shook, and she struggled to keep her grip. Not only were her hands wet, but so were nearly all of the hoops—from six other wet performers using them.
Suddenly, her hand slipped and she threw up her cyborg one. Catching the hoop, she latched her fingers onto the wet wood. As she did, Thaniel’s feet thudded onto the opposite platform. Gritting her teeth, she swung forward.
She would not lose to Thaniel. Not after saving his sorry ass.
Eventually, she reached the other side, passing the woman who’d been climbing up the tube earlier. Like the man who’d fallen, she struggled to keep her hold.
Fifth place, she realized, with three performers dead and two behind her. I need to do better.
Adrenaline surged in her veins.
I can do this. I will make it to one of the top ten spots.
Rora moved in a fog through several more obstacles, all of which were recycled pieces or props from former shows. Some of them she’d been in, while other sets were unfamiliar to her.
Throughout, she never once saw Abrecan. Slowly, she passed three other performers until she was in second place. But Abrecan was nowhere to be seen.
Until now.
At the final obstacle, with the remaining performers at her heels, she finally spotted him.
Above her were two parallel obstacles.
Two sets of walls were set several feet off the ground. Once again, there were no handholds, and the two walls of each were wide enough apart that most performers would have to put their backs to one side and their feet on the other to shimmy up.
Abrecan was a quarter of the way up on the left one. Since he was so tall, he was able to have one foot and one hand on each wall as he slowly pushed himself up toward the finish line where there were watchmen with timers.
Thank the stars the man wasn’t skilled at climbing, or he’d have beaten her by now.
Sprinting, she leaped upward. She slowly inched her way up, but her arms and legs were nearly at their full distance just trying to touch either side. As she climbed, the ground growing distant below her, her sweaty palms and feet kept sliding back down.
“I must say,” Abrecan’s voice called. Was that a hint of fatigue she detected? “I’m surprised you made it this far. I thought you’d be as dead as Asa. Though I wish I could have assisted in the process.”
Rora’s knees locked, and she froze in place. “You killed Asa?” She could have sworn she’d seen the blackened flesh and metal, a sign she’d short-circuited.
“She made a little tumble off the first wall,” Abrecan grunted. “Hit her implant on the way down, poor thing. She short-circuited during the swim shortly after. Must have busted her implant somehow in the fall. Really too bad. But if we’re being honest, she didn’t stand a chance.”
Unlocking her knees, Rora forced herself to keep moving.
He’s trying to distract me because he knows I’m gaining on him. He’s big, and for once, it’s not an advantage. That means he’s slow.
Sweat beaded on her brow, and her arms and legs shook, utterly exhausted from the competition. Despite years of training and having a mechanical advantage to regular humans, her muscles were stiff and fatigued. She had to finish and soon, or she’d run out of energy.
More importantly, she had to beat Abrecan.
She threw every ounce of energy she had left into her muscles, pushing toward the top, rotating hands, then feet, then hands, then feet. Her arms shook, and she breathed in ragged gasps.
Soon, she was close enough to the top to see the color of a watchman’s blue eyes behind the mask.
When she threw a hand over the edge, her fingers landed on a platform. Gripping it, she pulled herself up as another body tumbled beside her.
Several watchmen stood above her, looking down at a clipboard.
“We have our winner.”
Gasping, she nearly vomited as she sucked in air, her head swimming.
Turning, she saw the truth in Abrecan’s eyes. He rose to his feet, but she didn’t have the strength to get up.
With a snicker, Abrecan brushed his hands together. “You lose, dyke.”