Wonder Woman: Warbringer Page 28

  Diana didn’t ask what he meant. “The Oracle didn’t lie.”

  “Then maybe she made a mistake. Oracles have been wrong before.”

  “Not this one.”

  He leaned against the rock by the bell and crossed his arms. “Would you have played the game if we’d kept going?”

  “With the lasso? I don’t know. Would you have?”

  He expelled a short breath. “Absolutely not.”

  Diana perched beside him on the rock. “I meant what I said. I’m sorry for using the lasso on you.”

  Jason shrugged, the muscles shifting smoothly beneath his skin. “What I am, what I can do, I’ve kept it secret a long time. Keeping people out gets to be a habit.”

  “I shouldn’t have forced my way in. Truth means something different when it’s given freely.”

  He tilted his head back, watching the stars. “Early on, my parents saw that I was stronger than the other kids, faster. And I liked to fight. I was on the way to becoming a bully. They taught me to hold back, to be careful not to hurt anyone. But sometimes I feel it in my blood, the desire to use this strength, to prove myself.”

  Diana tried not to show her surprise. This was exactly the behavior she’d been told to expect in the World of Man. And yet, Jason recognized the urge to violence that had been passed down to him through the Keralis line. He’d struggled to temper it.

  “Is that why you value control so highly?”

  “It’s that. But it’s also the way I was raised. My mom taught Alia and me that our money could only protect us so much. People would be waiting for us to fail, to prove we didn’t deserve what we had.”

  “I know that feeling,” she admitted.

  He cast her a skeptical glance. “Do you? It’s a trap for us. Alia and I always have to be better. We always have to be a step ahead. But the stronger you get, the more you achieve, the more people want to make sure you know your place.” He bumped the back of his head gently against the rock. “It’s exhausting. And all that caution doesn’t leave much room for greatness.”

  Maybe she understood less than she thought. On the island, Diana had always known her failures meant more, but she’d also known her achievements would be her own, that if she ran quickly enough, fought hard enough, thought fast enough, her sisters would treat her victories with respect.

  She nudged her arm against his. “It wasn’t stupid. What you said on the plane. We all want a taste of greatness.”

  Jason turned his head to look at her. “What if you want more than a taste?”

  Something in those words made her pulse quicken. “How much more?”

  “I don’t know.” His gaze shifted back to the sky. “You take a bite. You take another. How are you supposed to know when you’ll be full?”

  I see you, Daughter of Earth. I see your dreams of glory.

  “Then your desire to run Keralis Labs, your parents’ legacy—”

  “Their legacy,” he repeated, and released a bitter laugh. “Do you know some part of me wants to believe Alia’s power caused the car accident that killed our parents?”

  Diana drew in a sharp breath, and he glanced at her, dark eyes glinting.

  “How’s that for truth?” he said. “It’s why I pushed Michael so hard on the investigation. I wanted there to be a conspiracy, an explanation, a reason for all of it. If wanting to do great deeds isn’t stupid, that is. It’s the way little kids think.”

  What would it do to someone to lose so much in a single night? Who wouldn’t search for order, for some measure of control?

  “You wanted to find meaning in their deaths,” she said. “There’s nothing wrong with that.”

  Jason pushed off the rock and prowled to the edge of the cliff. “I wanted to remake the world. Make it into something I understood.” He crossed his arms, profile turned to the sky, and she remembered seeing him alone in the orchard, a stone sentinel, keeping the watch. “I still do.”

  “That’s why you want to retain control of the company.”

  He cocked his head to one side and slowly made his way back to the rock. “Why do I feel like I’m always the one who ends up talking instead of you?”

  “I’m an excellent listener?” she ventured.

  He snorted. “I’ll make you a deal. We’ll play twenty questions. You answer, and I’ll forgive you for the lasso.”

  She cut a hand through the air. “Twenty is way too many.”

  “Ten.”

  “Three.”

  “Three?” he said incredulously. “That’s nothing!”

  She thought she knew what he would ask, and she felt ready to tell him the truth about who and what she was—maybe not all of it, but some. She’d taken that much from him by force. She could give it back.

  Diana shrugged. “In the stories it’s always three. Three wishes. Three questions.”

  He sighed and settled next to her on the rock again. “Fine. But you have to tell the truth.”

  “As much as I can.”

  He rubbed his hands together in anticipation. “Okay, Diana Prince, do you have a boyfriend back home?”

  She laughed. That wasn’t what she’d expected at all.

  “No.”

  “A girlfriend?”

  “No. You realize you’re terrible at this, right? That was two questions.”

  “But—”

  “Rules are rules. One more question, Jason Keralis.”

  She waited. She knew what he would ask next.

  “Fine,” he said. “What’s the story of the double star?”

  She sat up straighter, surprised. No questions about her home? Her people? “You remember that?”

  “Yes, and I knew you didn’t want to tell me about it.”

  She scowled. “Am I that easy to read?”

  “Maybe I’m just an excellent listener. Go on. Story.”

  Diana leaned back against the rock, listening to the wind in the pines. This was a different kind of secret to share. She’d already admitted the story was her favorite. She didn’t want to look foolish.

  She studied the night sky. “Do you know how to find Ursa Major?”

  “The Big Dipper?” said Jason. “Sure.”

  She pointed, tracing a path. “If you follow the handle, you’ll see Arcturus there beside it. And if you keep going, you’ll see the star known as the Horn, or Azimech. It’s one of the brightest in the sky.”

  “Can’t miss it.”

  “But it has a secret.”

  He clucked his tongue. “Never a good idea.”

  “Never,” she agreed. “It’s really two stars, orbiting the same center of gravity, so close they’re indistinguishable. The story is that there was a great warrior, Zoraida, who swore she would never give herself to anyone but her equal. But none could best her in battle.”

  “I’m guessing this is where the hero enters.”

  “Zoraida is the hero. But another champion did come to try to win her, a man just as prideful and just as strong. He swore he would defeat her or die in the endeavor, and so, on a rosy dawn, they met and clashed, Zoraida with her trusted axe in hand, and Agathon with a sword that gleamed bright as morning.” Diana closed her eyes, remembering the words of the story. “From the start, it was clear they were evenly matched, and the valley echoed with the sounds of the blows they rained down on each other. On and on they fought, for hours and then days. And when Zoraida’s axe shattered on Agathon’s gauntlet, and Agathon’s sword broke against Zoraida’s shield, still they battled, neither willing to cede victory.”

  “Who won?” said Jason.

  Diana opened her eyes. “Neither. Or both. Depending on how you look at it. As they fought, their respect for each other grew. They fell in love, but as they were matched in strength, so were they matched in stubbornness. They died in each other’s arms and, with their last breaths, spoke their vows. The gods placed them in the sky, where they might remain forever, neither diminished by the other’s brightness, ruling their corner of the night in haughty
isolation.”

  “That’s your favorite story?” Jason’s brows were raised in the bemused expression she was coming to expect from him.

  “Yes,” she said defensively.

  “That is some grim stuff. You a Romeo and Juliet fan, too?”

  Diana scoffed. “Hardly. I prefer Benedick and Beatrice.”

  “But they weren’t doomed!”

  “Doomed isn’t a necessity.”

  “Just a nice perk?”

  Diana threw up her hands. “It’s a tragic love story.”

  “I mean, it’s definitely tragic.”

  “It’s romantic. They found their equals.” From the first time Diana had heard Zoraida’s story, she’d been fascinated by it. It had seemed filled with all of the danger and enticement of the World of Man. What would it mean to want someone so much but hold to your beliefs in spite of it? If she’d lost her heart to Agathon, would she have given in or kept to her vow? Maybe the story was a little melodramatic, but that didn’t mean she had to stop loving it. She turned to find Jason watching her again. “Why didn’t you ask me about the island?” she said. “Where I’m from?”

  He smiled, and his dimple made a shadow in his cheek. “Truth means something different when it’s given freely.” He bobbed his head toward the valley. “How far away do you think that mountain peak is?”

  Diana grinned. “Let’s find out.”

  With a laugh, they were plunging down the hill, past the pond, through the silver wood.

  Diana shot past him, leaping over a fallen log, under a low branch, her heart pounding a happy rhythm as the forest unfolded before her. She burst from its trees onto a gravelly hillside, sliding more than running as the powdery soil gave way beneath her feet in a shower of pebbles. She heard Jason whoop somewhere behind her, struggling to keep up but apparently enjoying every minute of it.

  They were on open ground now, low rolling hills pocked with boulders and scrub clinging to rough planes of granite. She heard Jason’s steady footsteps, and then he was running beside her, matching her step for step. He’s not hiding anymore, she realized. She laughed, and his smile flashed white in the darkness.

  Diana let go and ran. You do not enter a race to lose.

  She felt the slap of her sandals against the earth, the stars whirling above her. She didn’t bother to pace herself or to worry about how far or how high the mountain might be. She simply ran, Jason’s steps pushing her faster, the hound at the heels of the stag—but she felt no fear, only exhilaration. She didn’t need to worry about what it might mean to lose or how she should comport herself as a princess. There was only the race, the desire to win, the thrill of her wild heartbeat matched to his as they leapt the rocky gully of a stream and began to climb the peak’s steep slope, pushing through thorny scrub and fragrant pine until…there, an old cart track, barely visible, overgrown with weeds and broken by tree roots.

  Diana hooted in triumph as her feet met the path, sprinting higher to where the trees were sparse, their trunks bent and twisted by the wind. They looked like women, frozen in a mad dance, the tangle of their hair tossed forward in abandon, their backs arched in ecstasy or bent in supplication, a processional of dancers that led Diana up the mountainside.

  Run, they whispered, for this is what happens if you let your feet take root. But wasn’t that the life Diana’s sisters had chosen? Bound to one spot, safe but locked out of time, preparing for a war that might never come?

  She rounded a bend and saw the crest of the peak before her, a small shrine near its apex, a Madonna surrounded by withered flowers and packages of sweets, small offerings. Diana somehow knew that there had always been shrines here, holy places where the gods’ names were spoken, where prayers were offered beneath the black and limitless sky.

  She put on a spurt of speed, lengthened her stride, and gave a shout as she passed the shrine and reached the mountain’s highest peak, raising her arms in victory.

  Jason padded up behind her, jogging the last few yards. His laugh was breathless as he bent double, hands on his knees. “Not nice to gloat,” he panted.

  Diana grinned. “We should have made a wager.”

  She gazed out over the valley to the peaks of the Taygetus far in the distance, a world painted in black and silver, the sky a dark vault of stars. It seemed to go on and on, unbounded by seas or barriers, a world that might take a hundred human lifetimes to explore. But when they reached the spring, she would have to leave all of these horizons behind.

  “Well, I guess I’m no Agathon,” Jason said. “I barely kept up with you.”

  She gave him a grudging nod. “You kept up fine.”

  “Did I?” he asked, and somehow she knew that was not really the question he was asking. Starlight gilded the lines of his profile as he turned to her.

  “Yes,” she said, the sound caught on a breath.

  Jason leaned forward, and she felt her own weight shift as if snared by his gravity, by the shape of his lips, by the shift of muscle beneath his skin. His mouth met hers, warm and smooth, the first summer plum, ripe with promise, and hunger bloomed in her like an eager vine, its tendrils uncurling low in her stomach. He slid his hand into her hair, drawing her closer. But beneath his strength and speed, she could feel how very mortal he was, his life as fleeting as a kiss, a captured spark. He would not last. And so she let herself feel the fierce beat of his heart, the heat of his skin, the ferocity of a life that would shine for the barest moment, there and then gone.

  Alia woke at dawn to birdsong—and a crescent moon visible on the horizon, a slender, perfect scythe. The reaping moon. Hekatombaion had begun. We’re almost there, she reminded herself. We just have to reach the spring before sunset.

  Either binding Theo and Nim during the night had done the trick or the gods of battle had found some other group of people to harass because no one seemed to be screaming or trying to commit murder. Diana and Jason were already awake, the last of their food stores set out on a rock as they debated the merits of which route to take to Therapne and how they hoped to find the spring once they were there. They sat close together, their shoulders almost touching, the animosity that had hummed between them since that first meeting at the Good Night seemingly gone. Maybe it wasn’t animosity, she considered as she rolled her head, trying to work the crick out of her neck. Ugh. If Jason was making moves on her friends, she didn’t want to know about it. Though he could definitely do worse.

  Alia left Nim still snoozing in the reclined driver’s seat and went to wash her face and hands in the upper pool of the falls. She heard Theo before she saw him, the happy whistle of some song she didn’t recognize floating around the bend in the path. Before she could turn and run, he was rounding the corner in his shiny, battered trousers and the stolen blue button-down that now seemed to be missing its sleeves. He was carrying the full water jug in front of him with both skinny arms and stopped dead when he saw her. His crop of locs looked more awake than he did.

  “Hey,” he said.

  Well, this isn’t going to be awkward at all. “Hi,” said Alia, making her best effort to sound normal. “How’d you sleep?”

  “Good, good. You?”

  “Great,” she said, continuing past him toward the falls. Easy. Now you just have to spend a few hours crammed in a car with him. No problem.

  She heard a thunk and his footsteps and realized he’d set the water jug down and was jogging to catch up with her. Maybe she could just stick her head underwater and hold her breath until he went away.

  “Listen…,” he began.

  “Theo, whatever you’re going to say is only going to make it worse. It’s not a big deal. I was thirteen. I had a crush.”

  “Because my eyes are golden as a sunset sea?”

  For a second Alia was just confused, and then the memory came back to her with gut-clenching clarity. Your eyes are golden as a sunset sea. I could drown in them a thousand times. That horrible letter.

  “Oh God,” Alia groaned. “I was hoping you
never read it.”

  Theo grinned. “I read it.”

  “Well, it was a long time ago,” she said with an awkward laugh. “I wrote like ten of those. One was to Zac Efron.”

  “Oh.” He actually looked a little disappointed. “That’s too bad. It was pretty much the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

  Alia thought of the string of girls she’d seen with Theo the last few years. “Sure.”

  He ran his hand back and forth over his locs. “Do you even remember what you wrote?”

  “Not exactly. Every time my brain tries to go back there, I cringe so hard I have to stop or risk an aneurysm.”

  Theo looked down at his pointy-toed dress shoes. They were scuffed beyond repair, the houndstooth pattern on their sides nearly hidden by dust. “You said I was smart and that if people didn’t always get my jokes, maybe it was because they couldn’t keep up.”

  “I did?” Well, she’d been right about that. Alia remembered how much she’d hated the way Michael picked on Theo, how kids at school had called him weird and goofy. As they’d gotten older, everyone had seemed to realize that Theo’s taste in music and clothes and everything else wasn’t so much weird as interesting. She’d watched girls start to fawn over him and had felt like a disgruntled hipster. I knew he was cool before you did.

  “You compared me to a pistol shrimp,” he said.

  Alia closed her eyes. “Are you trying to get me to drown myself?”

  “No, it was amazing. You said the pistol shrimp was tiny, but it has this claw that can produce a bang—”

  “Louder than a jet engine,” said Alia. “Yeah, I remember. I was really into marine biology that year.”

  “Right,” said Theo eagerly. “So it makes this bang that can shock big fish or whatever, but you said it survives by being noisy, not by trying to blend in.”

  “How do you even remember all that?”

  Theo’s grin went lopsided. He jammed his hands into his pockets and bounced once on his heels. “I kept it.”

  “Really?”

  He shrugged. “It was a good reminder. When things weren’t going great.”