And then I begin to feel it—a tingle spreading through me, my bones, my very veins. It grows into a buzz before it becomes a roar and a rush of power. There are so many abilities at my disposal provided by the crowd still dozens of yards away from me. I feel overwhelmed as I search for the Healer’s ability within the wave of power crashing into me.
There it is.
I focus on it, hone it, and shut out all other abilities fighting to come to the surface. Laying Jax on the ground, I drop to my knees at his side. I ignore the fact that I don’t see his chest rising and grip the part of the throwing star still peeking out of his chest, needing to pull it out before I can heal him.
“If you can hear me, Jax, this is going to hurt like hell. Sorry.”
And then I yank. It rips from his skin with a sickening sound.
He doesn’t so much as stir.
I ignore the dread pooling in my gut and place my hands over the now exposed, opened wound. I let the Healer’s power seep into his body, the gash, and begin mending and molding the skin back together. I recall learning to mend each wound my father inflicted on me as a boy and push that power into the boy beneath me.
The blood stops. The skin knits back together. Leaving nothing but a large, pink scar decorating the center of his chest.
But he isn’t moving. “Jax?”
I pat his cheek lightly. Nothing. Then shake him vigorously. Nothing. Now I’m shouting shakily. “Jax!” My voice cracks as he lies there, lifeless. My fingers frantically search for a pulse. “No, no, no, no, no...”
Little brother. Little brother. My little—
His eyes fly open, and then he’s gulping down air.
I half-laugh, half-sob as I watch him blink, his hand flying to feel the smooth skin where my throwing star once was. He looks around, his brown eyes landing on me. His grin is weak, his voice hoarse but humming with humor. “Are you going to try and kill me again?”
I croak out a laugh and run a hand over my face, wiping away the tears on it. “I’m not planning on it, bud.” And then I’m pulling him against my chest and crushing him into a hug, my hand ruffling his hair.
The sound of beating drums startles us both, and we turn towards the crowd not too far from us. They are cheering, applauding, stomping their feet in celebration.
The sun has risen just above the horizon.
The first Trial is complete.
ChapterThirty-Three
Paedyn
Thousands of eyespin me to the uncomfortable seat I’ve been forced into. The Bowl is packed to the brim with buzzing Ilyans, all bubbling over with excitement. The last of the audience has filed into their seats high up in the benches of the stadium encircling us, now staring down into the Pit beneath them expectantly.
It’s been three days.
Three days since the final fight at the edge of the Whispers.
And there are only seven of us left.
I hear the stomping of impatient feet coming from the crowd around us, and my heart trips at the sound. Suddenly, I’m back in that clearing, the sound of thundering feet morphing into the pounding of drums, signaling the end of the Trial.
But no one stopped.
The drums meant nothing to us. We were all still at each other’s throats. If it weren’t for Andy’s help, Blair would have torn me limb from limb and scattered whatever remained of me across the field for the birds to feast on. But just because she didn’t kill me doesn’t mean she didn’t leave her mark on me. Several, actually. Marks and mangled flesh that the Healers had a hell of a time mending back together.
It was as if none of us saw the risen sun or heard the drums sound. We were ravenous, refusing to simply lay down our weapons and surrender to each other. The Flashes made it to us first, weaving around and between us. Then the Brawnies arrived, using force to pull us away from one another. I was rudely ripped off Blair after finally managing to pin her down and was thrown over the shoulder of a burly man before being carried through the gawking crowd. But I wasn’t the only one. The opponents around me were all being hauled away and shoved into separate coaches tocool down.
It wasn’t hard to figure out why the king wanted to break up the fight and cut us off before we could do any more damage. Since it is forbidden to fight another contestant outside of a Trial, keeping our anger stifled will only ensure that the rest of the Trials will be even more interesting. Even more bloody.
I’m suddenly sucked back to reality, remembering the stiff chair I’m sitting in, the stiff dress clinging to my body, and the equally stiff contestants beside me. I shift in my seat, my arm brushing against the hard one that belongs to the prince I haven’t spoken to in days.
I run a hand under my rib where I can almost feel the jagged scar given to me by the same boy who was almost the cause of Jax’s death. I sneak a glance at Kai beside me, cool and collected as ever, despite what happened. Or so he seems. I’ve gotten quite good at pinpointing the cracks in his masks, picking apart his facade.
