Their Vicious Games(44)

“Hey, Adina,” Graham says quietly.

“Yeah?”

“You should try to stay on the outside of the path.”

I pause. “What?”

Graham presses his lips into a thin line. “The path is carved in a way that if you stay outside, it’ll bring you closer to the jumps and make them easier to charge. And when you get to the fork in the road, take the right. I know the map doesn’t show that there’s a fork, but there is a fork. If you go to the right, it’ll take you away from the Taxis Ditch.”

The Taxis Ditch is the most dangerous obstacle, supposedly responsible for the death of more than one horse, and definitely more than one girl.

“Why are you telling me this now?” I ask. He could’ve told me before. But he didn’t.

Another part of Pierce’s help or…

Graham frowns at me. “I was trying to tell you last night but then you ran off to Leighton. And, well, especially if you aren’t taking Widow Maker, you need to know. You’re a shitty rider…. Good for a novice. But generally, shitty.”

“Thanks. Asshole.” Still, I smile. Just a little bit, grateful for the information that might actually help me get through this.

“And, Adina?”

“What, Graham?”

“Don’t die.”

I swallow. “I’ll try.”

I squeeze my thighs and Starlight shifts underneath me, beginning to walk.

I lead her down the hall, but instead of turning right into the ring like in practice, we join the others at the beginning of the road. I line up next to Saint.

Esme sits tall in her saddle, a look of complete intensity on her face. On one side of her is Hawthorne, at the ready. And on the other, Jacqueline stands next to her stud, saddle in her trembling hands.

Penthesilea stands in front of her, beatific smile on her face as she reaches out. When she kisses Jacqueline’s cheek in thanks, it’s a mark for death. Penthesilea passes the saddle along to Mr. Caine with purpose, then pushes up onto her horse, swinging a leg over the saddle and sitting there like she was born for it. And all Jacqueline can do is watch.

Jacqueline senses my gaze and her head snaps around to look at me, like a great bird of prey. She hisses something up at Esme, and when Esme looks over, her gaze narrows on something past me, her lips curling into a sneer. I try to read her lips and it looks like Esme whispers to Jacqueline—“See, he’s helping—”

“Didn’t take my offer, I see?”

I jump, startling Starlight, as I look down at Pierce Maxwell Remington IV. He smiles up at me. He looks dressed for a Saturday afternoon at the country club, not a morning race to our potential deaths.

“Widow Maker is beautiful, but… he’s not mine,” I say.

“Integrity. That’s… different,” Pierce says. He sounds caught between disappointment and dawning wonder, like he couldn’t imagine anyone turning down anything from him. He mumbles the word to himself again as he continues past me, going to stand before all of us with his hands clasped behind his back. In an instant, he transforms, standing taller, looking surer as he addresses us. “I’m sure my aunt has relayed to you what this Ride means. It is a measure of your grit. Your intensity. Your passion. Your drive. How far will you go for what you want? I look forward to accompanying the winner tonight and lending her my ear to hear what other things she hopes to accomplish.”

Pierce steps to the side, and I can hear some of the other girls shifting. I look down the row and Esme looks even more intense, and just past her, in a funereal swathe of black, Penthesilea allows her gaze to follow her boyfriend. A boyfriend who hasn’t looked at her once.

I lean back on my mount to avoid crossing into the gutting line of her stare. But again the sudden intensity that I spy in Penthesilea goes just as quickly.

“Good luck,” I say to Saint.

“You too,” she whispers, shifting on top of her own horse.

Our plan is simple. Survive.

Beyond that, I won’t be first. I’m not stupid enough to think I’ll even be close. But I can’t be last. Being last makes me weak, and if there’s anything worse than being a favorite, it’s not being able to live up to it. Being weak—like Margaret must have seemed to Esme. I can’t afford weakness.

We look straight ahead at the path.

Immediately, I notice how it starts to narrow ahead of us, designed to push us closer. There’ll be a clear leader of the pack right away.

I can see the first obstacle, too: two hedges, so closely spaced that they have to be jumped as one. I sit taller, closing my eyes once, and breathe. I know this course on paper, the basics of the obstacles. I’ve memorized it, like information for a test. So, I do what I’ve always done with tests at Edgewater, I compartmentalize everything else, ready myself for battle.

“READY! SET!”

The shot is fired.

There’s the briefest beat where we all still hold our breath. All except for Penthesilea, who flies immediately down the dirt path on her tall midnight horse, kicking up dirt in her wake. We’re just a moment behind her and my heart rattles in time with Starlight’s gallops as we rush toward the first hedge. All of us crowding is dangerous enough as it is, but the first jump is just ahead and intimidating. I’ve only cleared the practice for it a handful of times with any sort of confidence during our training.