“Fine,” Esme says with a light shrug as we begin to set up the board. “And if I win…”
“What, I just keel over?” I say.
Esme shakes her head slowly. “You don’t sleep in your room tonight. You don’t sleep on your bed. You sleep in the hallway. On the floor.”
It sounds inane. Silly.
Chess hasn’t ever been something I’ve concerned myself with. I was already on questionable social ground being in yearbook and the fucking student council. Chess club would have done me in. But even if I lose, it’s just a night on the floor. I’ve slept in the back of my parents’ car before, trapped between two suitcases and a duffel bag. And if I win, it’s exactly the advantage Saint and I need.
“Fine. Let’s begin.”
CHAPTER 24
“THE CURRENT RANKING STANDS AS such: in first, we have Penthesilea. Then Saint, Esme, Hawthorne, Adina, Hannah G, Jacqueline, and Reagan.” Leighton’s voice booms across the grounds, as bright and high as the noon sun. The heat is stifling, my hair an unholy halo of frizz despite my best attempts to tame it this morning.
I do my best to mask my yawn, my body dripping with soreness from a night spent on a cold, hard floor. Each flex of my neck is a victory for Esme.
I hadn’t just lost. It was a bloodbath. Esme’s Cheshire grin widened more and more until it was practically a Glasgow as she made move after move. She didn’t have a strategy or a plan, which made it impossible to counter her. It was what the game was intended to demonstrate. Instead, she got lucky in her first ten moves and preyed on my franticness with each move thereafter. I knew I’d lost by move seven.
And I further incensed Jacqueline and Hannah G when instead of turning away from me in disgust, Pierce spent the rest of the night asking me if I was okay, as if I’d been punched in the face rather than just humiliated.
I tossed and turned in the cold hallway all night with just a throw from the common room and a hard decorative pillow. But Esme’s cruelty had called for more than humiliation. Each creak of the house was a girl coming to kill me. Sleep did not come easy—it barely came at all. The residual soreness from the Ride has returned with a vengeance and the foggy headache from the lack of sleep claims all my attention.
So I’m surer than ever that Saint and I need to stick to the plan. If we run into trouble, I’m useless. The coffee I guzzled down this morning has only caused my heart to race with adrenaline, and I feel no closer to beating back the exhaustion.
“Are you okay?” Pierce asks again, and for just a moment I picture myself with my hands around his throat, asking, Are you?
But I shake it away. “I’m fine,” I spit once more, rolling my eyes.
“You look… tired,” Pierce says, unsure.
It takes me a moment to realize what he’s unsure about, and then the panic sets in deeper. I’ve never spoken to him like this before. This is how I speak to Graham. Graham, who is watching absolutely unblinkingly. I force a smile that hides the way I want to vomit the dredges of coffee from breakfast right onto Pierce’s suede loafers.
“Thank you for asking,” I say softer. “I really am just fine. And I think… we are holding up the Raid.”
Pierce smiles sheepishly and nods, stepping back into the fold of his family. His smile drops as he ignores whatever heinous thing Third is probably whispering about me. They walk away together, Graham skulking in their shadow.
Shifting uncomfortably in my black fatigues, I rub my hands over my thighs, up over the holster at my waist. I tighten it again, the gun heavy at my side despite being so compact and small. I know how to use it. I might have to use it. I still can’t imagine using it.
“The Raid is a test of your mettle and your quick decision-making skills, all while maintaining focus on the goal: at the center of this maze, you will find a prize in a small black box, atop a pedestal. The moment the prize is lifted from the sensor plate, an alarm will sound. That will be your signal,” Leighton says crisply. I know immediately what she means—our signal to herd toward the possessor of the prize and to take it from her by any means necessary. “You will enter the maze in rank order in forty-five-second increments to the sound of the gunshot. Pierce will do the honors.”
The Remingtons are far away now, on their raised observation deck, full of crisp champagne and summer charcuterie, and just a little farther—a surveillance deck with monitors, all attached to a generator the size of an old computer tower.
Third isn’t paying attention; instead, he’s typing away on his phone. I wonder if he ever calls his wife, wonder what she thought when she was standing in the same spot that I am. Pierce has the starting pistol in his hand. And Graham is watching intently. He’s watching me.
Our eyes meet and he nods once in acknowledgment. I nod in return before I turn back to the mouth of the maze.
“Remember, ladies, trust your instincts, make good choices, and… accept our challenge.” I can practically hear the wry twist to Leighton’s mouth, and I wonder if she finds humor or joy in doing what was done to her, if it gives her back the control that she might’ve lost the day she realized that she would have to kill to come out alive.
I don’t have any more time to consider the thought, though, as the first blank is fired, and Penthesilea runs into the maze, immediately turning to the right at the first break.
Saint turns to me and looks me in the eye, her irritation at my bravado from the night before now exchanged for focus. She’ll be mad at me after. “Remember,” she says from the corner of her mouth. “Remember our plan.” I nod, and then the second blank is fired. She rushes off to the left and I swallow hard and wait, anticipation building in my gut.
At the third blank, Esme surprises me by taking a moment to reach around Jacqueline and take Hawthorne’s hand in hers. She squeezes hard, and then she takes off, already unsheathing her hunting knife from the thigh holster. With the fourth blank, Hawthorne runs, crossbow hanging over her shoulder, following as always after Esme.
Suddenly, I can’t breathe. I can barely think.
I’m five feet off the ground, waiting for the Ride to start. I’m underwater. I’m on the cold wooden floor. I have a gun in my hand. I’m—
The fifth blank is fired and there is no time to calm down; I’m running, my feet pounding against the wet dirt beneath me until I enter the maze. The hedges are all-consuming, blocking out every other part of the estate except for the high sun, beating down a white tattoo of heat. I try to steady myself.
I have a plan. There is a plan. There’s no reason to be afra—
A hand wraps around my wrist, jerking me to the left. I swallow back a scream. Saint’s unimpressed face is only inches from mine.
“Are you good?” she asks. I shake my head, blinking hard, attempting to reorient myself. Saint pats my face roughly. “Come on, Adina. Get it together.”
“I’m together. I’m sorry. I just—” I cut myself off, shaking my head. “Let’s go.”
Saint tugs out the dagger Pierce selected, holding it up threateningly. “I’ve got your back. Do you have mine?” she asks.
I look at Saint—the girl who has never treated me like deadweight, the girl who has patiently helped me learn, but never babied me.