The Gauntlet (The Cage 3)

The puzzle was over. She had won.

“Cassian,” she breathed as she rolled over onto her knees, “never try to kill me again, okay?”

A look of horror crossed his face. He shook his head vigorously. “I thought you were an Axion. It was him, he was here.”

“It was the Gauntlet,” she said, still fighting for breath. “One of its illusions. It made you think I was someone else so you’d fight me.”

He took a quick step forward, thought better of it, and stopped. “I would never fight you.”

“I know.” She looked up at him. “And so does the stock algorithm. It had to disguise me or else you’d never have willingly been my opponent. Willa said this was the trick of the third round: the puzzles become personal.” She rubbed her aching wrists.

He knelt down to her level. “I’m sorry.”

He pulled her into an embrace. She stiffened. Afraid of hurting him more, afraid to be hurt. But then she felt his warmth. He wasn’t holding himself at a distance anymore. She then melted into him and wrapped her arms around him too. She breathed in his scent. He was a small flame of warmth in the cold room, kindling her hope.

Her love.

There was still a chance for them. A spark. One that would never fade.

“The door’s open,” she whispered. “We can go to puzzle eleven.”

But his arms around her didn’t release. “Not yet. Not after this. I don’t dare continue, knowing what the Gauntlet is capable of making me do.”

“We don’t have a choice,” she insisted. “The storm could tear everything apart at any second. And everyone outside could be getting slaughtered by the Axion.”

He pulled back far enough to look into her eyes. “I’m afraid.”

She touched her hand to his cheek. This close, she could see all those little details that made him so real—the bump in his nose, the wrinkles on the sides of his eyes, a small scar by his hairline. Even if she didn’t know that humans and Kindred were related, hadn’t she always felt it?

“We’ll do this together,” she said softly.

He covered her hand with his, and she felt a rush of strength. She leaned forward, pressing her lips to his cheek. With the red light bathing them, she couldn’t see the blood on his clothes or the dried blood from her nosebleeds. She could almost pretend that everything was okay.

“All right,” he said at last. “But whatever happens, know that I love you.”

She took his hand. Kissed his knuckles. “I do.”

Together, they crossed through the doorway.

39

Cora

CORA DRIFTED TO A stop as soon as they entered the next chamber, puzzle eleven. It wasn’t a bare cube this time. Her lips parted—it was the most beautiful room she’d ever seen. It was a ballroom like from a fairy tale, with gleaming marble floors and a three-tiered chandelier casting a warm glow over stained-glass windows and ornate molding. Soft instrumental music played from some unseen musicians. She pressed a hand over her mouth, overwhelmed with surprise. But then the door closed behind them, and she spun. There was only a wall, as if the door had never existed.

“Cora,” Cassian said. “Your clothes.”

She looked down to find that the Gauntlet had worked its illusions again. Instead of the sweat-stained black Gauntleteer uniform, she now wore a sweeping crystal gown that reflected the twinkling lights in rainbow colors. She ran her hands down her sides, feeling each individual crystal sewn into the heavy fabric, wondering how something that didn’t exist at all could feel so real.

“Your clothes, too,” she said, nodding at Cassian. His bloody uniform had vanished. He now wore a crisp black suit, all signs of the dirt caking his skin gone, and it stole her breath to see him like this, dressed so shockingly humanly.

He gently touched her hair, which was swept up on top of her head in an elaborate braid. “I didn’t know the stock algorithm was capable of such complex illusions.”

“I guess if everyone knew,” she said, “then the Gauntlet wouldn’t be a challenge. The stock algorithm has been keeping secrets even from its creators.”

The room suddenly jarred, and for a second the illusions flickered. The music dropped out, and Cora and Cassian were standing in a bare chamber, both bloody and beaten and barefoot, and then just as suddenly the beautiful illusion flickered back on.

“What . . . what was that?” Cora gasped.

“Not part of the puzzle,” Cassian said cautiously, looking up at the sparkling chandelier. “The storm outside, I think. It’s interfering with the illusions themselves.”

Cora turned toward the walls. “Then we have to solve this as quickly as we can. There’s already been an intellectual and physical puzzle this round, so this one has to either be moral or perceptive.” Her nerves started to prickle at the prospect of a perceptive puzzle. How could she solve it without her abilities? As much as she felt humanity’s strengths humming within her, the paragon burst couldn’t help her when it came to psychic abilities, not since she’d broken that part of her brain.

Cassian was silent. When she turned toward him, she gaped.

He had multiplied.

She blinked, not certain she was seeing correctly. There were six of him now, standing right where he’d been standing, dressed in identical black suits, of identical heights, and with identical buzzed hair. They were lined up three in the front and three in the back, standing perfectly still.

She took an involuntary step backward. “Cassian?”

All six turned their heads. She took another step back, unnerved by the sight of them. Her heart started pounding so loudly it almost drowned out the sound of the music, except the melody suddenly swelled louder. As if on cue, the six Cassians started walking. No, Cora realized, not walking. Waltzing. They strode around the room in time with the music, arms extended around imaginary partners, dancing far more gracefully than the real Cassian ever had. Cora stood in their midst, speechless.

What kind of a bizarre test was this?

She watched them spinning, feeling dizzy herself. Creating an illusion of a beautiful ball gown was one thing, but could the Gauntlet really make Cassian dance like that? Why didn’t the real Cassian just stop dancing and tell her which one he was? Was the real Cassian even here anymore?

Then she remembered how in the last puzzle, no matter what she had said, the Gauntlet changed her words to different ones. This had to be a similar trick—the real Cassian must be trying to tell her who he was, but the stock algorithm was preventing him.

She took a step toward the closest Cassian, but he was moving fast. His face was eerily blank, and she pulled her hand back.

“There’s only you,” an unseen voice sang to the accompanying music. “In all the world, there’s only you. I’d know you blind.”

The voice kept repeating the same lyrics over and over until Cora thought she’d go mad. She pressed her hands to her ears. So this was the puzzle: figure out the real Cassian.

More sweat broke out on her forehead. This was the puzzle she’d most been dreading. A perceptive one. Whenever other Gauntleteers made it to this puzzle, it must have been a simple task of closing one’s eyes, reaching out with one’s mind, searching through all the decoys for the real one, and picking him. Days ago, it might have been easy for her too, even with the Gauntlet’s illusions. Her mind and Cassian’s used to find each other so easily, even from far away. But now, when she closed her eyes and tried to extend her thoughts, there was nothing.

Only pain.

She doubled over as an ache pulsed in the back of her head. It hurt so badly that her vision went black and she had to crouch to the ground before she passed out. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to clear her mind. At last, the pain started to ease.

She opened her eyes and let out a sob.

It was useless. Her perceptive abilities were gone. The dancing Cassians all looked identical, swirling to the looped music. The room suddenly rocked again, and she shrieked and steadied herself on

the floor. The music fluctuated, but the illusions didn’t give out this time. None of the Cassians’ suits became a blood-soaked uniform. She stood, wiping off her hands shakily on her dress.

The storm didn’t care about her perceptive abilities. It was coming regardless.

And so was the war.

She took a deep breath and then ran alongside the first of the Cassians. She took hold of his extended hand and slid her torso between his other hand and his chest, trying to match his quick steps. As soon as she was in his arms, he looked down at her and smiled as if some spell had been broken, and her heart leaped. Had she found the real Cassian? But the smile remained on his face for an eerily long time, and her hopes began to sink. No, this Cassian was just acting however the Gauntlet wanted him to.

“Cassian,” she said, searching his eyes for some clue that might tell her if he was the real one, “tell me about the necklace you gave me once. The charm.”

“The dog,” he said, holding her close as they spun faster and faster. “To remind you of a dog you had at home. Sadie. You told me once you couldn’t sleep without her.”

Cora’s heart flickered with hope. She fought the urge to prod him for more information about her own past that she didn’t remember. What else had she told him about her family, her life there?

But this might not even be Cassian at all.