Chapter 15: Edge of the Drop

The camp glowed under a gray dawn, embers flickering where helots torched the trees, their last screams swallowed by the wind. Lysander gripped her dagger, blood crusted thick on the blade, her torn cloak flapping in the chill. The bindings beneath clung tight, frayed but hiding her secret. A girl in the agoge was Sparta's disgrace, a stab at its honor, and she'd slit throats to keep it buried. Her leg pulsed, blood seeping through Damon's rag, her back raw from Gaius's whip. Every step burned, but she stood tall, masking it all. Damon stayed close, his sword slick with helot blood, green eyes sharp. He'd seen too much in that firelit fight, his Always still ringing. She thought, He's pushing, but I need him.

Spartan soldiers circled the camp, shields locked, their captain barking orders. The scarred brute in a red cloak shouted, "Move out, cliffs again!" The herd, seven left and battered, shuffled forward, Felix wheezing on his shield, blood dripping slow. Gaius limped at the back, whip coiled, his slashed shoulder oozing. His laugh from the dark echoed in her skull: You're done, runt! She knew he had that binding scrap from the ravine, a noose ready to choke her. He's alive, she thought, rage bubbling. Not for long if I catch him.

They marched up the steep path, rocks crumbling underfoot. Lysander's leg screamed with each step, blood soaking through, but she climbed fast. Damon shadowed her, his presence steady, too steady. His hand brushed her arm as she slipped, catching her just enough. He muttered, "Careful," his voice low and rough, laced with worry. Her gut twisted. Not now, she thought.

She snapped, "Back off," forcing her voice gruff, a boy's tone she prayed held. He lingered, eyes searching, too warm, but she pushed past. Gaius grinned ahead, whip tapping his leg. She thought, He saw, panic clawing up her spine. He's waiting.

The cliff peaked, a flat stretch of jagged stone with a sheer drop on one side, wind howling fierce. The captain halted them, his red cloak snapping in the gusts. "Line up! Drop's your test. Down and back, go!" Soldiers spread out, Felix propped against a rock, pale but glaring, watching her every move.

Lysander stepped to the edge, peering down. Fifty feet, straight to sharp rocks, a rope ladder swaying, thin and worn. Death trap, she thought, stomach sinking. Her leg, her back—she couldn't show weakness. Gaius limped up, grinning with bloody teeth. "Runt first. Soft ones fall," he sneered, cracking his whip near her feet. Dirt kicked up, stinging her shins.

Damon moved in, sword twitching at his side. "He's tougher than you, cripple," he growled, voice hard, protective. She felt heat spike. For me, she thought, too much.

Gaius laughed, shoving her hard toward the drop. Her leg buckled, pain flashing white, but she caught herself. "Prove it," he taunted, loud and mean. She growled, "I will," keeping her voice low, a boy's edge, dagger up, glaring. You're next.

The captain shouted, "Down, now!" She grabbed the ladder, ropes creaking under her grip. Her hands bled, old cuts splitting, but she climbed, leg trembling, back burning. Damon followed, too close, his breath loud behind her. "You're hurt, slow down," he hissed, worry cutting through.

She snapped, "Shut it," sliding faster, ropes fraying under her weight. He can't see. A rung snapped, her foot slipped, heart lurching. Damon's hand shot out, grabbing her arm, strong and warm, holding her steady. "Got you," he said, voice soft, too soft. She yanked free, thinking, Too damn close.

"Focus," she growled, hitting the bottom. Rocks bit her feet, blood pooling under her soles. Damon landed beside her, quick and solid, his eyes on her leg. "You're bleeding bad," he said, stepping closer, hand out.

She lied, "I'm fine," backing off, voice rough. Bindings hold, secret stays. Gaius's laugh rolled down from above, sharp and cruel. He's watching.

The herd climbed, slow and ragged. Two slipped, their screams cut short as they hit the rocks below, leaving five. Sparta takes, she thought, gut twisting. Pyrrhus, Kratos, now these—death piled up. The captain yelled, "Up, move!" She grabbed the ladder, hauling herself up, pain roaring through her leg, numbing it. Damon climbed below, pushing her pace. Stay back, she thought.

Halfway up, ropes groaned. A rock fell, big and fast, tumbling straight for her. Gaius's grin flashed above. Bastard, she thought, swinging aside. It grazed her shoulder, blood spraying, pain blinding, but she climbed. Not falling. Damon shouted, "Lys!" and surged up, too fast. He's mine, she thought, dumb and true.

She rolled onto the top, panting, bleeding. Damon landed beside her, his hand brushing her back, checking her over. "You're a mess," he said, low and fierce, eyes flicking to her cloak. Bindings tight, safe, she thought. Her chest thumped. Stop it.

She snapped, "Back off," shoving him away. He can't feel. Gaius limped over, whip ready, grinning wide. "Soft, nearly dropped," he sneered, loud enough for the herd to hear. They sniggered, eyes on her, waiting.

Damon stood, sword up, rage boiling. "He made it, you didn't. Shut it!" His voice shook, all for her, and she felt it. Too much.

The captain roared, "Enough, spar! Pairs!" Soldiers watched, Felix glaring from his rock, still kicking. Gaius pointed, whip snapping in the air. "Runt, me, again!" Blood dripped from his shoulder, his grin wild. He wants me dead, she thought.

Lysander stepped up, dagger ready. No choice. "Let's go," she growled, keeping her voice low, steady. Damon grabbed her arm, grip tight. "Don't, let me—"

She barked, "No," yanking free. "Stay, watch Felix." Her tone held, a boy's edge. His eyes burned, trust and heat mixing, but he nodded. He's mine, she thought.

Gaius lashed out, whip striking fast. It hit her arm, blood spraying, pain flaring. She ducked, slashing her dagger, nicking his leg. Red flowed. He swung again, whip cracking her shoulder. Fire roared, old cuts splitting open, but she lunged low, aiming for his gut. He twisted, whip wrapping her wrist, yanking hard. Her bindings stretched. No, she thought, kicking his wound, hard. Blood gushed, he roared, dropping the whip. She slashed his arm, red pouring, and he stumbled back, whip falling to the dirt. Down.

The captain yelled, "Enough!" Gaius glared, panting, blood pooling under him, still alive. "Runt wins, again," the captain said. Soldiers nodded, a flicker of respect maybe. Damon rushed her, steadying her, his hand too warm on her arm.

"You're crazy," he whispered, pride in his voice, soft and real. Her gut flipped. Not yet. "You're bleeding, let me—"

She snapped, "No," pulling back. Secret holds. "Guard Felix, go." He hesitated, eyes deep, then turned. He's too close, she thought.

The captain barked, "Rest, then march!" The herd slumped, five left, bloody and worn. Lysander sat, panting, Damon near, quiet, watching her every move. Gaius limped off, soldiers binding his wounds, his glare promising more. Next time, she thought.

Night fell, cold and biting. Fires crackled, soldiers tossing out stale bread, small chunks. Damon sat close, his knee brushing hers. "You took him twice. You're unreal, Lys," he said, voice low. His grin flickered, warm and real, and her chest thumped. Stop.

She muttered, "Had to," splitting the bread, handing him half. His fingers grazed hers, slow on purpose, and he held her gaze. "Thanks, for sticking by me," he said, rough and deep. She froze. Not now.

She hissed, "Shut it," pulling back, keeping her voice low. A yell broke the quiet, soldiers leaping up. "Helots!" Fire flared in the trees, helots charging back with torches swinging wild.

The captain roared, "Shields!" Soldiers charged, the herd jumping to their feet. Lysander stood, dagger out, Damon beside her, tight and ready. Gaius limped forward, whip up, grinning through blood. "Runt's mine!" he shouted, lashing out. The whip hit her leg, blood spraying. She ducked, slashing his arm, red flowing.

Helots rushed in, torches high, screaming. Lysander spun, dagger sinking into one's gut, fast and fatal. Blood sprayed. Damon yelled, "Lys, left!" She turned, a spear aimed at her, dodged, and slashed the helot's throat. Red gushed, he dropped.

Gaius swung, whip missing her. Damon tackled him, sword slashing a shallow cut across his chest. Blood seeped, Gaius cursed, bolting into the chaos. A Spartan horn blared, helots scattering, fire fading fast.

Damon grabbed her, panting, his arm around her, too tight. "You hurt?" he asked, soft, eyes on her cloak. Bindings safe, she thought. He's looking.

She lied, "No," shoving him off, voice rough. Her leg bled, back wept, secret held. "Watch Gaius, he's alive." Damon nodded, eyes burning too deep. The captain yelled, "Camp, now!" Soldiers moved, herd limping, five still standing.

Gaius's laugh echoed from the dark, sharp and mean. "Dead soon, runt!" Damon's hand brushed hers, quick and warm, a vow. Her secret ticked louder, closer, as helots faded into the night.