Kingmakers, Year One

34. Leo

34

LEO

W hen Anna and I reach the field south of the school, legs shaking and lungs burning from our hobbling run back up from the sea caves, we find Silas and Hedeon already waiting for us, each holding their piece of the puzzle. Hedeon had been looking anxiously in all directions for the rest of our team, while Silas simply sits on the grass, as taciturn and expressionless as ever.

On the opposite side of the field, I see that Mikhail and Johnny have of course already returned, both having completed their tasks far ahead of Anna and me. Likewise, Sam and Liam seem to have retrieved their puzzle pieces.

“I beat him back,” Silas grunts, jerking his head toward Sam on the opposite side of the field. “We each had to fight three opponents. I beat the third before he was even done with the second.”

The evidence of Silas’s battles is clear on his face. His left eye is almost swollen shut, and his nose is making a strange whistling sound. He doesn’t seem bothered by his injuries. I’m not entirely sure Silas is human.

“Liam finished before I did,” Hedeon admits. “He’s such a fucking good shot.”

Hedeon is a decent marksman, but not even top five in our year. If I had known what the challenges were going to be, I would have picked someone like Chay, or even Gemma Rossi, as awkward as that might be.

“It’s alright,” I say. “They can’t put their puzzle together without the rest of the pieces.”

“What took you so long?” Hedeon says, frowning. “Mikhail’s been back a long time, and Johnny even longer.”

“Sorry to keep you waiting!” Anna snaps at him. “We were just drowning ourselves while Liam was showing you up at target practice.”

“It wasn’t stationary targets—” Hedeon starts, but I hold up my hand to cut him off before he and Anna can get into it. I put my arm around Anna’s shoulders for good measure, pulling her against my side. She’s still pale and shaking, not at all recovered from our ordeal.

“It doesn’t matter,” I say. “Give me all the pieces—let’s see if we can put any of them together.”

From the way Mikhail, Johnny, Sam, and Liam are bunched together in a tight circle on the opposite end of the field, I suspect they’re working on the same thing.

“What is this?” Hedeon says, turning the irregular metal lumps over in his hands. “How are these supposed to fit?”

“I don’t know,” I say.

At that moment, I see Marcelline running out through the Kingmaker’s gates, the sun glinting off the gold in her hands.

“She got hers,” Hedeon says.

“Where’s Matteo?” Anna asks.

We fix our eyes on the gates, hoping to see Matteo following close behind. Every second that ticks past feels interminable. I understand now why Hedeon looked so strained when we finally ran up.

Three or four minutes later, Matteo comes puffing across the field, his round face flushed from running.

“I’m sorry,” he pants, shoving his puzzle piece into my hands. “We had to solve a code—fuck it was so hard. I’ve never seen anything like it. That Marcelline is a goddamned android.”

Before I’ve even added Matteo’s piece to our pile, Pippa likewise comes sprinting up from the direction of the river bottom. She throws her puzzle piece triumphantly to Liam.

“ Fuck,” Hedeon mutters under his breath. “If Pippa’s back, we’re done.”

“They’re still missing one piece,” I remind him, but I feel the same sense of impending doom. There’s no sign of Isabel yet, and if Sven beats Ares, I doubt it’s going to take Pippa long to solve the puzzle.

“Let me see those…” Matteo takes the pieces from Anna. He turns them over, examining all sides. “Ah!” he mutters, managing to click two of the pieces together.

His early success is deceptive—after another five minutes, he hasn’t made any progress on the other four.

I’m watching for Isabel and Ares. I expect to see Isabel first, since Pippa is already back, but instead Ares comes limping up the road from the village, hunched over and deathly pale.

I run down the road to him, shocked by the sight of his gray face.

“What the fuck happened to you?”

In answer, he leans over and vomits up a large quantity of water.

Wiping his mouth on the back of his arm, he groans, “They fucking waterboarded us. We had to last two minutes. I know that doesn’t sound like much, but it was?—”

His body convulses and he retches again, this time nothing coming out.

I throw his arm over my shoulder so I can help support him the rest of the way.

“They told us we could stop any time. And we could rest if we wanted. But we had to do two minutes straight . . . to get the piece. I’m sorry . . . it took me so long . . .”

“Sven isn’t back yet,” I say. “Maybe he won’t be able to make it.”

“I almost didn’t,” Ares groans miserably.

He presses the second-to-last puzzle piece into my hand.

“That fucking thing better be real solid gold for what I had to do to get it.”

I help him back to the others, Anna staring in horror at Ares’ sweating, shaking frame.

“What happened to you?” she cries.

“Just . . . the worst afternoon of my life.” Ares laughs weakly.

“Gimme that!” Matteo cries, grabbing Ares’ piece and swiftly slotting it into place. “I needed that one.”

I’m scanning the field in the direction of the river bottom, anxiously waiting for Isabel. She’s our last teammate, and our last puzzle piece. If she can get back here before Sven we might actually do this. We might actually win . . .

Anna is helping Matteo with the puzzle. She aligns the fourth piece, but then there’s a long and agonizing break while they can’t seem to find how the other two fit.

“This should be easy!” Anna cries in frustration.

“Why do they all look the goddamn same and still don’t fit?” Hedeon snarls.

Silas doesn’t attempt to help. He’s glaring moodily across the field at the Seniors, who are likewise working on their puzzle under the fierce observation of Pippa, who’s barking orders I can’t quite hear.

I see motion at the end of the field. My heart swoops up as at long last Isabel pushes her way through the trees. But at the same moment, Sven limps and lurches his way up the road, a lump of gold clutched in his hand.

“ Goddamn it,” I mutter.

I don’t have to tell Isabel to run—she’s already sprinting at top speed, quicker than Sven can manage. She’s a mess, hair tangled and muddy, fingernails broken off, hands and arms scratched raw. She thrusts the last puzzle piece into my hands, saying, “God I’m sorry, that fucking Pippa?—”

Matteo and Anna seize the last piece, but it doesn’t elucidate how they’re supposed to finish the puzzle. Whatever they’re building is oddly-shaped, and Matteo removes one of the other pieces that was already in place, not sure it’s in the right location.

Still breathing hard, Isabel says, “We had to get through this fucking mess of snares and tripwires. She was setting them off on me on purpose . . .”

I’m only half listening. On the other side of the field, Sven has added his piece to the pile, and the Seniors are feverishly working to assemble their puzzle. I can’t tell whether they’re further along than we are. All I know is that every second that passes of Matteo turning the uneven golden lumps over in his hands seems torturous and interminable.

We’re so fucking close. If we lose the whole thing because of this goddamned puzzle . . .

“No, that’s wrong,” Anna says, taking the puzzle from Matteo. “It goes this way, I’m sure of it . . .”

Anna manages to slot one more piece into place.

“Wait!” Isabel breathes. She grabs the last piece, twisting and turning the puzzle in her hands like a Rubik’s cube. Two of the pieces rotate, leaving a gap. She slips in the last piece and gives a final twist, the two halves of the puzzle finally coming together in one solid whole.

We stare at the golden skull in her hands.

“What the fuck does that mean?” Hedeon says.

A split-second whirl of images whips through my brain. The Chancellor, the banners, the announcement of the Quartum Bellum . . .

“The Keep!” I hiss, careful not to call it out. “The Grand Hall!”

Seizing the skull in my hand, I start to run. The rest of the team chases after me.

As we pass Pippa’s team, I can see Pippa herself holding the puzzle in her hands, one single piece out of place.

She stares at me in wide-eyed disbelief as I sprint past her, her shock quickly turning to fury.

I’m not looking back at her—I’m staring straight ahead as I dash through the gates, between the greenhouses, right toward the Keep.

My team dashes inside the Grand Hall in a tangled knot, sweating and panting, hoping we’re at the right place . . .

As soon as I see Luther Hugo standing in front of the fireplace, I know that we are. He’s beneath his own black banner, the grinning golden skull floating above his head like a crown.

He smiles at us, his dark eyes glittering in his deeply-lined face. It’s the sort of smile the Devil might give you, if you managed to fiddle his tune.

“Well, well, well,” he says, softly. “Do my eyes deceive me? Or am I looking at the Freshmen?”

I take the heavy gold skull and press it into his hand.