Once Rev is out of the way, Drake has the power to take down the rest of the reigning alliance. Then, it’ll be easy picking the two weakest champions off.
Drake may be a condescending dick, but he’s smart.
If I let his plan play out, not only would I have to kill Rev and double down on the tear in my soul, but I’d put myself in a position of fighting Drake and Kari on my own. Maybe Tyadin would finally consent to aligning with me but that’s a big “maybe,” and even then we’d be even at best.
But what are my other options? Turn against this alliance of five and save Rev?
I’d like to be that person. I like the idea of redemption in that form but... he hates me. I’m not sure which he’d choose: working with me or death. Which would be a bit of a problem for this strategy of mine to work out.
So, my choices are stick with Drake’s manipulative plan and hope for the best. I probably won’t win the trials, but I’ll likely live to tell the tale.
Or risk my life to save someone who will slit my throat the first moment my guard is down.
A third plan comes to mind—run away. That’s something I’m rather good at, actually. I could complete the task while they’re distracted, let the big-bad fae alliances work out their own damn issues and weaken themselves in the process.
I sprint faster. That’s as good a plan as I can come up with.
A prickle on the back of my neck reminds me that inaction is as bad as performing the evil.
***
AFTER AN HOUR OF RUNNING, my mouth is dry and my legs burn terribly. I usually relish the pain and simply seek more of it. But right now, I’m not sure what’s coming around the corner.
I take a sip of water and catch my breath, the sun beating down on me like a new and salacious enemy. It’s like Reahgan attacking me with his paralyzing light again.
He’s like a child torturing ants with a magnifying glass. I might have snuffed out his life—a fact I am sickeningly proud of, which is another reason aligning with Rev would be an awful idea—but his grip has been crushing my windpipe since I was an adolescent. His spirit haunts me more than the wraith ever could.
I swallow, my throat still dry, but I want to conserve the water, so I center my thoughts away from the panic and instead harness the rage.
That’s why I need to win the Trial of Thorns. To prove Reahgen was wrong about me—I’m notno one. I’m not unimportant. I’m not just a doll to be played with, used, and then tossed in the trash.
I am powerful.
And I’m ready to show them all.
Rev
