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.
I rock up in my seat, tightening my hold on the reins like Graham taught me.
Penthesilea flies over the hedges and lands with a thud. Esme and Hawthorne swiftly follow her. One of the other girls—one of the ones I don’t know—rushes past me, nearly clipping me, and I swerve Starlight out of the way, toward the outside of the path, while she lands clumsily on the other side, rocking dangerously in her saddle, almost careening forward.
“Let’s go, Starlight,” I urge as we come up on the jump, and then we’re soaring. “YES!”
We land easily and continue on the path, flying forward.
One down, six more to go. Next is the single hedge, then there will be another double jump of a pair of fences, the mud pit, the ramp, the river, and finally the Taxis Ditch. I say them like a mantra, a reminder that soon it’ll be all over.
The path narrows further, forcing us tighter and closer, and I gasp when I look up to my left and there are only inches between Saint and me. Saint looks over at me, equally surprised by how close we are. If either of us shifted the wrong way, the other would be thrown off her horse.
“Pull ahead!” I shout. “I’ll pull back tight to the rear!”
The only sign that she’s heard me is a sharp nod and the way she lurches up to stand in her stirrups, chirping at her steed with a click of her tongue.
I’m solidly in the middle, and when I chance a look back, I find the Hannahs coming up quick behind. I’d rather be closer to them than to Esme and Hawthorne, but the unhinged glint in Hannah G’s eyes sets my teeth on edge. I urge Starlight faster, a controlled canter, as Graham would call it, as I brace for whatever they have planned. Hannah G comes up on the left side and then pulls even with me, ahead of Hannah R. I look to her, ready to be defensive. She reaches into her saddlebag and pulls out a fistful of something. She turns, a wild look on her face, suddenly far less put together than her model-esque pout from before. But the look isn’t for me. She throws her fistful back at Hannah R.
There’s a brief moment of nothing, and then Hannah R’s horse stumbles, and suddenly, I realize what the small things are that sailed past me—nails.
I screech as Hannah R’s horse bucks, trying to clear the nails, and she grapples to stay on, but it’s too hard, and then Hannah R is falling—
I have to turn back sharply to look ahead, knowing we’re coming up on the next hedge, so I don’t see the impact, but the sickening crack echoes.
“Ha!” Hannah G squeals. “Guess who’s the only Hannah now, bitch!”
Hannah G—well, the only Hannah now, bitch—jerks her reins with a war cry and then she’s pulling farther ahead of me, still cheering as she races off and makes it roughly over the next obstacle, the full green hedge.
I turn in my seat, facing forward again, shivering as I think about Hannah R’s dark glassy eyes before she hit the ground. Almost too late, I take a half-seat jumping position, and then we’re over the hedge too. But I feel my late start, and find myself slipping sideways, losing my bearings. My heart thuds harder in my throat as I feel Starlight startle at my weight redistributing, and I fling myself forward and flat, tightening my thighs to right myself.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” I gasp against her flickering ears.
Another obstacle cleared, clumsily this time, but done. Five more to go.
We’re down to ten girls. But it’s still too many to watch out for. Too many to keep off my back. What if Hannah G attacks me? What if someone else does something worse? Who else is going to die? Am I going to die?
Focus, Adina, I command myself.
We break into a gallop on our way to the next obstacle. Hannah G is too busy celebrating her victory to defend her position, so I take the opportunity to pull past her so she can’t throw her nails in my path. We approach the double fences, and this time Starlight and I don’t go over easily at all. It’s an even rougher landing, so rough that I lurch forward and only throwing myself backward keeps me upright.
My brain goes hazy with fear as we come up on the next obstacle, the mud pit.
There’s a horse waiting to the side, smothered in mud, watching its rider sink facedown in the muck. The terror of it being Saint wells inside me, but when I look back at the horse again, I realize it’s not hers. Even as relief fills my chest, so does self-loathing because I don’t look back again at the unmoving body, don’t stop to help. Not like with Margaret, because now I know it’s useless.
I don’t know what I’m doing, but Starlight does, and we fly over the mud pit.
“Ramp time, buddy,” I call, breathless.
Starlight doesn’t pay me any mind, all her concentration focused on getting us through this alive. Shuffling up the ramp means that I have to shift back and forth, carefully finding my center to counterbalance the sliding that might occur. Starlight takes it slow and so do I, and when we’re finally up the ramp, we find it’s a slip and slide down the other side, which very nearly makes me soar over Starlight’s head. I just manage to correct it.
The river is next, and there’s no jumping over this one. I mourn my curls as the sound of rushing water gets closer and closer.
Starlight quivers beneath me, and I lean forward, burying my face in her mane, by her ear. “I’m sorry, Starlight. We’re almost to the end,” I whisper. I can feel what she feels—the exhaustion and fear that’s setting in beneath the achy muscles, down to our marrow. As we get closer to the water, I urge her on faster, past both our limits. We have to keep up speed so the current doesn’t sweep us up. I take the chance to look back once and my heart stutters and just for a second stops.