Page 10 of Heroines of Olympus

Still mulling this over, not really paying attention to where she is going, Icarus slams into a man’s back.

He turns around to seek out the source of the collision and catches a jaw to the fist.

Icarus narrows her eyes, as her internal sense of justice peeks its head out.

Because of her distraction, she finds three men squared off against the man who was just struck. The middle closest one flexes his fingers after the punch.

Don’t get involved. She doesn’t even know why they are attacking this man. He could have done something horrific.Leave it alone.

The man rubs his jaw, and Icarus can already see a red mark forming along his strong jawline. One of his angular eyes is already swollen closed and his fawn colored skin is discoloring from bruises. She imagines, when not recently punched in the face, multiple times, that women attracted to men would swoon over him.

A glance at his opponents shows more than one bruise blooming and at least one bloody nose. He has been putting up a fight, at least. Two of the attacking men close in on the man she bumped into, as the third man slips over to the side unnoticed.

Stay out of it.

Still unseen, the third man is circling behind the man they are attacking, while his focus is on the other two.

Stay out of it.

He grabs a board and prepares to strike the man in the back of the head, and Icarus cannot take it anymore.

Her long legs have her over to him in seconds, and she spins around to gain momentum before kicking the man in the face. He falls backward into some empty mead barrels. Ah, so they are right outside of a tavern.

The man she assisted looks at her confused, as do the two attacking men.

She shrugs and stands next to the man, putting her fists in front of her face to welcome the next challenger.

Either they do not want to fight a woman, or the playing field being even takes the fun out of for them, but the men just roll their eyes, collect their friend, and leave.

She turns to the man and extends her hand, and they clasp forearms in greeting.

“Name’s Lysander. I would have been fine, but thanks, nonetheless.”

“Ha. Yeah, you definitely had things under control. But you’re welcome. I’m Icarus. What did you do, sleep with one of their sisters?”

Lysander laughs loudly at that. “More like one of their sister’s husbands.”

“Oh.” Icarus says sheepishly. “I was joking. I wasn’t trying to judge you.”

He waves her off. “Look, the night is young and my face requires mead. Let’s grab a drink and see what fun the city has in store for us tonight!”

This is it. The kind of thing Icarus has always dreamed of doing once she was out of the house and on her own. Experiencing life and finding adventures.

She chews on the idea for a minute before answering. “I am entering the Trials tomorrow. I really should go get settled and try to rest up.”

“Oh, no way! Me too. The Trials, that is, I have zero desire to go rest. If I don’t go blow off some steam, tomorrow I’ll be too wired and off my game.”

That’s a good point. What would Hector say about that? She runs through all the lessons she received from the retired Hero.

When she was ten, he moved to their village, much to Icarus’s delight - and her parents’ dismay as soon as they saw her eyes go wide at his stories of adventure.

At twelve years old, she finally worked up the nerve to ask him to train her. He simply said, “a lady always needs to have the ability to defend herself” and she began training with him every other day.

Lysander raises his eyebrows, and nudges her with his elbow questioningly.

Her smile beams wide. Hector’s advice is for tomorrow. Tonight, she gets to be alive for the first time.

6

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