Bonds of Hercules (Villains of Lore, #2)(85)

I frowned as a thought struck me. “How do you … lose in this competition?”

It seemed crucially important, yet no one had bothered to tell me.

Kharon’s smile fell.

He looked away.

Artemis scowled as a Cyclops slammed a meaty fist down, barely missing her body.

Augustus sighed heavily. “Three ways: you pass out from blood loss, fall into a coma, or—”

“Die,” Kharon finished.

Augustus nodded curtly.

“Tell her the other way,” Kharon ordered, his voice loud and harsh.

Drex and Helen glanced back at us; they blanched when they saw Kharon’s expression.

Kharon leaned closer, his voice dropping. “There’s a fourth way to lose.”

I didn’t like the gleam in his eyes.

“You can defeat all your labors, but if both your legs are broken, the pieces of your kneecap sticking out of your skin … you can crawl across the sand …”

His nostrils flared as he paused like he was lost in memories.

“You can drag your bloody, ruined, weak body out of the arena … and still be branded a loser.” His eyes sharpened. “Winners walk out of the arena on their two feet. Those who crawl … get branded.”

His ruined knee and the scars on his chest.

This was Kharon’s story.

“But that’s not fair—you beat them,” I said with outrage. “You beat all eleven of your labors—how could they count that as a loss?”

Kharon’s lips curled as he stared down at me. “Because Olympians hate Chthonics. They live to humiliate us … to brand us. To mark us. It’s all about power … and to wield it over others … you must break them.”

Skeletal fingers dug into my thigh.

“I won’t let them do it to you.” Kharon’s nails pressed harder. “I won’t let them—”

Boom.

We all turned.

The sands were covered in shimmering scarlet as if a bomb had gone off. Artemis sat on her steed in the middle with her arms raised.

Pure terror filled my throat as her mist traveled up the stadium, glittering and deadly in the bright sunshine. The electric force field hissed as the fine droplets traveled through it.

All five Cyclopes shrieked in unison, a terrible sharp sound.

Artemis’s black horse reared back, whinnying as its front legs kicked powerfully through the air, and she cocked her bow.

She fired two arrows at a time—in different directions. How is that possible?

Two Cyclopes collapsed, long metal shafts protruding from the stadium shook beneath us from the force of their falls.

“YES,” Nyx shouted around my neck. “Slaughter them!”

Artemis fired in a blur.

Cyclopes dropped and the stadium rocked so aggressively, stones cracked.

Dear God, please let the stadium collapse and kill us all. Thank you.

The shaking died down and the structural integrity of the coliseum was left unscathed.

Disappointing.

Her mist dissipated and five Cyclopes lay in the sand, blood pouring from arrows embedded in their eyes. Their dirty limbs in a tangle.

The force field hummed.

“Are they …” I swallowed thickly, unable to say the word.

Augustus nodded.

The Olympian crowd went wild, screaming and chanting at the top of their lungs: “Monsteress of the Hunt … Monsteress of the Hunt … Monsteress of the Hunt!”

I clasped my cold fingers together.

Artemis stood up on her rabid stallion’s back and raised her bow to the sky with a smirk.

She balanced as her steed jumped over the fallen Cyclopes, sand spraying behind as they galloped out of the arena.

The crowd clapped and screamed louder.

No one could say Arthritis (Artemis) doesn’t have flair.

Augustus pressed a gentle kiss to the top of my head. “Now we have the symposium. It’s in the coliseum.”

I turned to him with surprise.

“Not the same one you attended,” Augustus said. “It’s in the same room—but it’s where all the competitors, leaders, House heirs, and some of the most important Spartan creatures and dignitaries mingle and eat during the competition.”

“But there are still some … explicit activities,” Kharon muttered, a muscle in his jaw ticking.

Relief filled me.

If the Olympians were going to make us fight to the death, the least they could do was put on a performance. Flash a penis, show a boob.

“Why are you smiling?” Kharon asked suspiciously.

“I’m not.”

“That!” Kharon pointed at my mouth.

I bit down on my lower lip to try to look less like an awkward sexual degenerate.

Kharon narrowed his ice-blue eyes. “So help me Kronos, Alexis, if you try that little strip routine again, I will—”

“I wasn’t going to do anything, Karen.” I rolled my eyes (I’d been considering it).

He breathed roughly through his nose like he was having an episode.

“She’ll be fine.” Augustus grinned at me. “We’ll take care of her. She has us by her side now, right, my carus?”

Scales slithered around my neck. “Oh yeah, I’m sure he’ll take care of you with his—” Nyx paused for dramatic effect “—throbbing, engorged cock.”