I picked up the spear, tossed it up and down, testing its balance…muttered to myself. I was tired of having to defend myself…prove myself even to my own family.

The anger began to build again, this time with no direct focus. I was angry at all of them.

Zery was locked up and a killer was on the loose-standing in front of me, actually. I tossed the spear again, glanced at Alcippe. I’d tried playing this the Amazon way, convinced myself that would be best-and found myself caught in this trial by telios. Maybe it was time to take things back into my own hands.

I turned my grip, readied myself to throw the spear.

Chapter Twenty-three

The lion lunged. All thought of Alcippe fled. I spun, threw the spear without pausing to aim or think about the best target. To my shock, it hit home, embedded into the lion’s head. Like the bull he shimmered, then was gone. The spear fell with a clatter to the floor. I just stared at it. Again my heart pounded. My pulse jumped at my throat. My gaze shot to my grandmother. She was unmoved, unruffled.

I took a step forward. “What the-?” The lion reappeared, but like the bull, frozen. I snapped my mouth closed and searched for my next opponent. The hare, stag, and fish all came to life.

On the surface, none of these animals seemed particularly dangerous-but I knew better than to relax. I didn’t understand this game, but I knew one was under way-and I needed to learn the rules fast.

The three animals wandered around the court, seemingly unaware of my presence. I glanced at Mother, but no weapon was shoved my way. The first two had saved me from being gored or eaten, but they hadn’t won the game. Perhaps that was all she’d been doing, buying me time to figure things out. Or perhaps she was as perplexed as I was. Either way, I was on my own.

The sword was within reach. And with no better idea leaping into my mind, I picked it up and started toward the deer. He didn’t startle, just lowered his head to munch on imaginary grass, then twisted his neck to rub his antlers on the floor. I raised the sword, ready to sever his spinal cord like I’d done to the bull, but as my arm raised, he shifted-grew, until his rack was an impenetrable maze reaching from floor to ceiling. I lowered the sword anyway, felt the impact as it hit bone all through my body, but the stag didn’t disappear, didn’t even move.

I jerked the sword free from the antlers and stared at Bubbe. Like the deer, she seemed unmoved. I thought about tossing the sword to the side then, admitting defeat, but my fingers wouldn’t let go.

Damn it. I wanted to beat her; I was going to deliver everything I had.

I stalked to the fish, grabbing the spear on the way. I stabbed at him. He slithered right, then left, darting as if swimming with the current, as if my spear were inconsequential-of no threat whatsoever. I dropped it, tried to grab him with my hands. I had him or thought I did, but as my fingers closed, he slipped through, slid out of reach.

Trying to hide my growing frustration, I moved toward the hare. He was gray, his eyes like black marbles. I stayed back, waited for him to do something. He sat up on his haunches, rubbed his front paw over his nose, and studied me in return. Then he winked.

Winked. That’s when I got it-a trickster. The hare was a trickster-a lot like my grandmother. She’d set me up, known I would believe the way through this challenge was through direct battle, known Mother would throw things at me and like an idiot I would follow her lead.

I pivoted, strolled to center court, and sat down. I needed to think, not act. My gut always got me moving before my brain had time to weigh things. And Bubbe knew that.

I needed to gain control, needed to think.

Bubbe had called on the telios for a reason. Each had a special gift or message, but I didn’t think that was the point here. Not really. This was my grandmother’s message, and what was her favorite lesson to lecture me on?

Being an Amazon, accepting who I was.

I stood up. Around me all the telioses had come to life. I ignored them, walked past the leopard pacing to my right, stepped over the serpent that threatened to slither over my foot. Went directly to a table where Pisto had kept paper and pens for charting which Amazon was leading in what competition. I jerked the cap off a marker with my teeth, shoved up my sleeve, and started drawing.

To win you had to battle with your own weapons, define the fight for yourself.

I needed to play on my strengths. I was an artisan. This was how I had to battle.

I drew snow and a den. Mountains and trees. A spring-fed stream and a field filled with clover. I drew everything the telios needed to thrive, then one by one I approached them.

I reached for the fish first, felt the cold splash of water as my hand dipped toward him. Wiggled my fingers, let him swim toward me through my splayed digits. I wasn’t there to catch him or destroy him. I was there to free him. As he shot past my hand, for the briefest of seconds the stream I’d drawn on my arm appeared. He lunged forward. His body whipping back and forth, he went with the current until he reached the edge of the court of our defined battle zone, leapt into the air, and disappeared.

The bull let me approach, followed me to the field, put his head down, and charged out of the court. The leopard leapt into a tree, prowled along the branch until the limb misted away above the line of Amazons’ heads. The hawk soared into a mountain sky. The stag trotted into a forest. One by one all the telioses left, and it was just Bubbe and me alone in the center of the court. By her side stood the wolf. She was smiling.

“Only one left. Do you know what this telios wants? How to free him?” she asked.

He was gray and tan, rangy. His eyes were golden. He sat by my grandmother’s side, completely at peace. He was familiar and beautiful. I suddenly realized I had no idea what he wanted, what would make him feel free. I could fool the other telioses, but I couldn’t fool my own. Couldn’t convince him the fake image of trees or hills were real. Couldn’t make him disappear.

I held out my hands, but he didn’t come. Just watched me with an intelligence that made me doubt everything I’d done, everything I’d ever believed.

Finally I dropped my arms to my sides, too tired to keep playing this game. The desire to beat my grandmother wasn’t enough to keep me going. I wanted a truth from Alcippe, not Bubbe. I was done, let her beat me.

“You know I don’t,” I replied.

“Don’t or won’t?” Bubbe dropped her hand to the wolf’s head, ran her fingers over his fur. At her touch, he looked up. My body tensed, and I knew she was right: I was afraid of facing my own telios, of facing that very important part of who I was.

Her hand dropped to her side, and the wolf disappeared. “You’ve won. Declare your truth,” she said.

I raised my brows. “Me? I didn’t master the telios.”

“No, you didn’t do as I wanted. As I said, you beat me. I give up. I can’t make you accept who you are. You win.”

I grunted. No one could twist words and events like my grandmother. As much as I had wanted to beat her, this wasn’t victory. It was almost like a whole new kind of loss.

“I say you won,” I replied. “Tell me what you want to know.”

Her hand drifted to where her dress closed in the front. She stroked the silk trim. “There is nothing for you to tell me, Melanippe. I know you. I trust you.”

We stared at each other, she with the same relaxed patience she’d shown through the entire ordeal, me without it.

Alcippe stepped forward, raising both hands as she did. “With no clear victory each can demand a truth.” She nodded at Bubbe.

My grandmother studied me for a second, then asked, “Have you ever killed an Amazon?”