Amazon Princess

by Kate Karyus Quinn

  “Actually, I heard Sora is still trying to get one too,” Rada says.

  “I know that should make me feel better, but have you noticed he’s maybe not the brightest guy ever? It’s possible he just misunderstood the assignment.”

  Rada shrugs. “It’s possible. I don’t think anyone has seen him all day.”

  “Ugh.” I hit my head against the mattress, wishing I could shake some sort of solution free. “If I can just get my hands on one it would be simple. I can sling one over my shoulder and take it into the barn.”

  “I would love to see that, so I’m going to give you a free tip.”

  Hope rising, I lift my head. “Please something. Anything.”

  “Well...” Rada hesitates before finally saying, “Horses usually go to bed pretty early.”

  I frown. “So I should go and tuck them in? Sing them a lullaby and make them like me?”

  Rada shakes her head. In a harder voice, she adds, “You have until midnight. The horses will be sleeping well before then…” She looks at me like I’m supposed to finish that sentence.

  And finally I get where she’s going with this. “I sneak up on a snoozing horse and carry it away!”

  “Yes! Exactly!”

  “You’re amazing, thank you for the hot tip!” I sit up, taking her hand. “Will you come with me?”

  Her eyebrows come together. “I don’t want any of the others to think we’ve formed an alliance…”

  I fill in the rest for her. “And you don’t want anyone thinking that, because you want an alliance with a better contestant than me.”

  “Sorry,” she says. And she does look sorry, but she doesn’t take it back. Maybe tough love is something they teach Amazons.

  I sigh heavily and then add in a little moan too, hoping guilt might make Rada change her mind.

  “It’s okay, I understand,” I say softly. “It’s just…this girl, Lilliana, threatened me today after one of my arrows hit her target. I’m kinda worried about running into her after dark.”

  “Oh, that definitely sounds like Lilliana,” Rada says, with a smile. “Just be glad you’re not one of the boys. She said if she ever got one of them alone…well, let’s just say Constantine’s problems would be over.” She makes the scissors snipping motion again.

  I let out a shaky laugh. “Well, hopefully I can avoid her.”

  “Okay, if you need protection,” Rada stands. “I’ll come with you.”

  “Yay!” I yell, and throw myself into her arms. “Besties!”

  “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Rada says, pushing me away.

  But my new sense of hope cannot be dimmed. Especially when this mission requires a total outfit change.

  After giving it some careful consideration, I change into a skintight black burglar suit, complete with mask. Rada stares at me.

  “What?” I say. “We’re sneaking.”

  “Then maybe you should tone down the sparkle?”

  I look down at the sequence I added for glitz. I squinch one eye closed and they disappear. “Fine. There. Super boring.”

  Rada changes into baggy dark sweatpants and a T-shirt. It’s tragic. As we head for the door, I make a mental note to work in a makeover night. Out in the hallway, Zahara and Prisha stand outside our door.

  I stare at them. “Um…hi…?”

  “These walls are paper thin,” Zahara says.

  “We want to come with,” Prisha adds. “I owe it to my all female coven to uphold the bonds of sisterhood, and that means making sure a girl isn’t the first one out.”

  “I’m all about girl power,” Rada says, “But Prisha, you might do more to hurt Brandee Jean’s chances than help her. One thunderclap and the horses will be spooked.”

  Prisha reddens. Zahara nods. “Good point. We’ll stay behind, but we’ll be wishing you luck!”

  I’m touched. I really am. I give each of them a hug before heading out with Rada to the pasture. We sneak along and I’m glad to find that a lot of the horses are lying down, sleeping. Rada gives me a little nod and whispers, “Go ahead.”

  Despite telling Rada I could use my strength to lift one of them, up close it doesn’t seem too easy. These guys are huge.

  Still, there’s no going back now.

  I finally choose a soft grey-colored horse, since grey is a good neutral color that will easily go with any riding outfit I put on.

  The stallion has no idea what hit him. I come up from behind and put him in a full nelson—a move an ex-boyfriend taught me when he was trying to impress me with how big and tough he was. It’s a sweet little maneuver where you come up behind somebody, lace your hands into their armpits like you’re gonna give ’em a love squeeze from behind. But instead you loop your hands up behind their neck, interlock your fingers, and boom—you’ve got them hanging like a five-dollar dress on a wire hanger.

  It works with horses, too. If you have the strength of Zeus.

  “Now listen,” I say as the horse bucks and tries to fight me. I’ve got him standing on his hind legs, his back pulled up tight against my chest, his mane in my face as I whisper into his ear. “You can be a good boy, or I can crack all your ribs. Your choice, mister horse.” I give him a little extra squeeze, in case he doesn’t speak English. Or British. Or whatever it is Trevor was trying to make me feel stupid about earlier.

  Whatever my mouth is saying, my body language seems to be doing the trick, because my horse goes so limp I bet Constantine would be jealous.

  “Be a good boy, or else.” I set him back on all fours. “Okay buddy?”

  He doesn’t really respond, only looks at me, wild-eyed with fear, seeming to ask if I’m going to crush him like a stale Cheeto or not.

  “You just let me carry you and nobody gets hurt,” I say, feeling like some sort of mafioso. But the tough guy thing seems to be working, the horse doesn’t try to get away, even when I take his face in my hands, and resting my forehead against his.

  He’s soft and warm, and surprisingly, the smell of him is less gross than I expected. His ears flick back and forth while I talk to him, but otherwise, he’s gentle like a baby whose mama slipped some whiskey into the bottle.

  “Whiskey,” I say, tapping him on the nose. “I’m gonna call you Whiskey.”

  I pick him up like a baby and start across the pasture when suddenly, there’s a low moaning noise from somewhere behind me. Awkwardly, I spin around and try to see around the armful of horse.

  “Nggggghhaaaaaahhh.”

  There it is. Again. Like somebody moaning about a bad headache.

  I stop to listen for it again, but it’s hard to hear anything over the suddenly worried horses whinnying and shuffling their feet.

  Then one of the stallions screams.

  Whiskey flails wildly and no amount of threats are getting through this time. I’m so busy struggling to hold onto him, that I don’t hear the pounding of hooves until the ground around me beings to shake. Quickly, I shift Whiskey onto my right hip to see what’s going on.

  Every single horse in the pasture is running at me full speed. It’s an actual honest to gods stampede.

  And I’m standing right in the middle of it.

  Whiskey peddles his legs in the air, like he thinks he’s on land. Clearly, he’s ready to run. So I let him.

  Keeping my arms locked around his chest, I lower him until his back legs connect with the ground. Almost immediately, his hooves dig into the dirt—and he’s off. All I have to do is stay on.

  Which is easier said than done.

  My entire body bounces up and then slams back down the length of his spine with every stride. Eventually I manage to lock my knees around him, but it’s still like riding in a car with no shocks.

  After what seems like an eternity, Whiskey starts to slow and then comes to a full stop. I lay limp on his back for a while, too tired to move. When I finally find the strength to sit up, I nearly cry with the realization of how far we’ve gone. We’re at the total opposite end of the pasture.
The stables are just a speck in the distance.

  Grabbing Whiskey’s mane, I give it a little tug. “Okay, boy, let’s giddy-up back the way we came now.”

  He ignored me, instead dipping his head to eat some grass.

  Tilting my head back, I look at the moon overhead. Midnight is the deadline; I can’t just sit up here on his back and hope he’ll eventually go back.

  With an exhausted sigh, I slide off Whiskey. My whole body aches, but I pick him up the way I did before and start walking back across the field.

  I have to stop a few times to put him down and stretch my arms out. Each time the little speck that is the stables gets a little bigger. Each time it’s harder to pick him up once more. And each time I remind myself of Shauna and how I gotta win this competition if I’m gonna help her.

  Then I pick up the horse and get going again.

  But still, it’s definitely the hardest thing I’ve ever done, and that includes the time I had to compete in the bikini competition despite a bad case of the shits.

  I am gritting my teeth as I carry Whiskey up the hill where the barn waits at the top. Rada has already laid fresh straw—or hay, I really don’t know what’s what—in the stall that has my name printed on a pretty brass plate overhead.

  “Brandee Jean,” Rada says her eyes wide. There’s something in her tone I can’t quite put my finger on until she adds, “That was amazing.” Then I realize—it’s respect.

  I drop Whiskey outside the stall, but the asshole has apparently decided he’s not taking one step he doesn’t want to. Lifting my leg, I give him a kick in the butt that sends him stumbling into the stall. Whiskey turns to glare at me as I close the door between us.

  Whatever got me this far wears off all at once. I slump against the wall.

  “What happened down there?” Rada asks. “I saw the horses get spooked, but couldn’t see what set them off.”

  I let my eyes drift closed for a moment before answering. As I do, the sound I’d heard plays in my mind. “Nnnnnnnnggghhhhaaauughh.”

  I don’t realize I’ve said it aloud until Rada’s cool hand presses against my forehead. “Are you okay?”

  “That’s what I heard before the horses went nuts,” I explain.

  “Ooh. I thought that was you.”

  My eyes fly open as I swat Rada’s hand away. “Why would I make that sound?”

  Rada throws her hands up. “Brandee Jean, I don’t know why you do most of the things you do.”

  I eye her, wondering if that’s a compliment or not. “Well if I pass out, just so you know, it’s because I’m exhausted. Or maybe dead.”

  “You’re not going to pass out. You just gotta get back to bed.” She holds out a hand. “Come on.”

  I’m practically leaning on Rada as we head back to the dorm, at least as much as she’ll let me. If this were a pageant girl, I’d have my head on her shoulder, and she’d put an arm around my waist. But since it’s Rada instead she just makes her body really stiff and pushes against me to counterbalance my weight.

  Still, she smells nice, and I feel like we may have crossed a bridge. And maybe we did, because even though she won’t let me put tiny braids in her hair before bed, I do spot a couple of sequins on her pajamas before we slide into bed, both of us exhausted.

  “Nice flair,” I whisper, but she shushes me.

  “Go to sleep, roomie,” she says. “Tomorrow won’t get any easier.”

  And while I’m sure she’s right, I’m smiling when I slip off to sleep, thinking of Whiskey in his stable, and wondering if Rada will let me tweeze her brows someday.

  13

  When I get to the stables in the morning there’s a whole gaggle of people standing around.

  “Brandee Jean!” Rada runs over to me, grabs my hand, and then pulls me to the center of the crowd where Taylor and her clipboard are holding court. Rada positions me directly in front of Taylor and then gives me a nudge. “Tell her about last night. And the noise you heard before the horses stampeded.”

  I quickly tell Taylor the whole story and when I’m finished lean into her. “Hey, is there a Keurig around here somewhere? It was a late night and I really need the caffeine.”

  “No, we do not keep a Keurig in the stables.” She shakes her head in this disgusted sort of way, and then to my dismay adds, “Or anywhere else. An Amazon does not sully her body with chemicals.”

  “Okay, but I’m not an Amazon, so is there a way for me to sully my body?”

  Rada leans closer and in an urgent voice tells me, “Not now, BJ! There’s important stuff going on right now.”

  I turn to her and then back to Taylor. “Like what?”

  Taylor sighs. “The noise you heard last night was a zombie.” Her mouth twists as she says that last word, like she can’t believe she’s having to say it. “Nothing like this has ever happened here at Amazon Academy before. I knew having the contest here was a bad idea.”

  “It was a student who passed away last year,” Rada says softly. “She was a witch.”

  “Of course, it’s always the worst people who rise from the dead, right?” I make a little joke, trying to lighten the mood which has gotten super intense.

  Rada jerks away from me. “She was a friend of everyone. Beloved. A true Amazon sister.”

  “This will not go unanswered,” Taylor adds, her voice thick with unshed tears. “Thank you for giving me the details of last night. I will pass this along to Athena and she will make sure her uncle pays dearly for this offense against the Amazons.”

  With that Taylor pushes through the crowd and is gone.

  “Rada,” I put a hand on her arm and am encouraged when she doesn’t pull away. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize. When I heard ‘zombie’ it sounded so campy. But if she was a friend…”

  Rada’s face softens again. “It’s okay, BJ. I know you’re kinda clueless.”

  Ouch. Just when I think Rada and I are friends, she tells me what she really thinks of me. And it’s never good.

  “Come on.” Rada jerks her head in the direction of the stables. “Looks like everyone’s starting to head in.”

  As we join the other contestants inside the stable, I can’t help but notice they’re all gathered around my horse’s stall. Worried something is wrong, I quickly march over.

  “Holy gods, she actually got one,” Malik says, as he watches Whiskey happily munching in his stall. The others look just as surprised.

  I want to flip the other contestants the bird for not believing in me, but my girls, Rada, Zahara, and Prisha are there too, so I curtsy.

  Turning to Whiskey, I reach over his stall door to scratch his nose, hoping to start our relationship off on a new foot this morning. But Whiskey is committed to being an asshole. He snaps his teeth at me and I only just jerk my fingers away in time.

  “Well, you really cleaned up,” Sophie says.

  Assuming she’s talking to me, I do a neat little pirouette in her direction, ready to rub her nose in my success. But it turns out her comment was directed at Alaric.

  Sophie hands him a stack of bills and he nods coolly.

  “I told you she’d pull through,” he turns to Malik, “You owe me too.”

  “Wait, you bet on me?” I stare at Alaric in disbelief.

  “It felt a little early to be getting against anyone,” he says simply and then discreetly slips the bills into his inside jacket pocket. Because, of course, he’s the kind of guy with an inside jacket pocket.

  I wonder if there’s a clean handkerchief in there too, and vow to myself I’ll get through the day without needing it. Or, at least, refuse it if he offers it to me. I mean, I haven’t even washed the first one yet. If I keep collecting Alaric’s hankies eventually good manners will force me to just go ahead and offer to do all his laundry. Although I admit to some curiosity about whether he’s a boxers or briefs kind of guy. I got my money on pure starched cotton boxers. Stiff and uncomfortable, just like him.

  I whirl toward Sophia and Malik. “And y
ou guys bet against me!” I switch my clothes into an eighties chic dress. “Big mistake! Huge! Just ask this guy.” I point a finger over my shoulder to Whiskey. “He let his guard down last night and then Bam! He got hit with a big old BJ!”

  Malik covers his mouth, smothering a laugh, while Sophia does nothing to disguise a snicker. “So you seduced your horse?” Her eyes flick toward his stall where Whiskey has started kicking the walls. “Looks like he’s having regrets this morning.”

  I take a threatening step toward Sophia with the idea of explaining to her with my fists that BJ is my power nickname and not some cheap and easy oral sex joke.

  But then I notice Artemis marching into the stables and shelve the plan for later.

  “This is excellent,” Artemis says, eyes scanning the full stalls. “You have all passed my first trial. Now that you have chosen your stallions, you must become as one with them. Amazons are the best riders in the world, because the bond they have with their mounts is an almost psychic one. The rider anticipates their animal’s needs and the animal knows what their rider desires before the order is even given. This is the bond all contestants must forge between yourselves and your stallions.”

  I groan, unable to stop myself. I figured with the nameplates on the stalls that there’d be more to this than just capturing the horse. But I figured we’d have to ride and, I don’t know, maybe teach it to count by stomping its hoof against the ground. But a psychic bond? I can’t threaten Whiskey to make him bond with me.

  Artemis’s laser focus is on me and I squirm, certain she can read my mind. Wanting her attention elsewhere, I throw someone else under the bus. “Hey, what happened to Sora?”

  Artemis smiles. “Sora thought outside of the box. He chose a water horse and was just finishing securing it before joining us up here.”

  “I’ll have to remember that creative problem solving is allowed,” Trevor says.

  Artemis continues. “You must train with your horses, forge the bond, and become proficient riders. Otherwise you will not survive the second part of the trial. You have eight weeks.”

  I breathe a sigh of relief. It’s not like a “happening tomorrow” thing. But apparently I breathed too soon because Artemis continues.