Page 98 of Empire of Flame and Thorns

Then a bolt of lightning cracks into the trees.

I suck in a sharp breath and whip my head towards the entrance to the tree wall. The thin trunks at the front groan. Then crack. Then topple outwards.

My pulse thrums in my ears as I watch the outmost row fall aside right in the spot where I slipped in earlier. A moment later, Draven strides in. Storm clouds swirl around him like black smoke. Through the tangle of vines, his eyes find mine. A wicked grin spreads across his face.

“Shit,” I breathe.

With alarm blaring in my skull, I lurch into motion again. Squeezing between the next set of trunks, I move as fast as I can. But the ground in here isn’t made of grass or soil or even firm roots. Instead, it’s made up entirely of those thin vine-like trunks. They’re hard, and slippery, and they produce strange clanging noises when I step on them. Like a hollow wooden tube when you strike it. But most importantly, they’reround. So every time I step on one, my foot slides sideways towards where that thin tree meets the one next to it.

I twist my ankle several times as I scramble across the slippery ground.

Lightning cracks into the trees right behind. I suck in rapid breaths as wooden groaning and crashes follow it. My heart thumps in my chest. I spin around while weaving through the next gap.

A hand locks around my wrist.

My stomach lurches as I’m yanked backwards.

Air explodes from my lungs in a huff as I slam right into a rock-hard chest.

Tilting my head back, I’m met by Draven’s smirking face.

“Did you really think that would work?” he taunts.

Reality snaps back into me, and I try to yank my wrist out of his grip. His fingers remain firmly locked around it while he reaches up with his other hand. Panic shoots through me as he reaches for the gold ring on my finger.

In a burst of desperation, I yank out the knife from my thigh holster and swing it towards him.

He jerks back in shock, loosening his grip on my wrist, as the blade slashes through the air right in front of his face. Using that moment to my advantage, I rip my wrist out of his grip and lurch forward, aiming to slip past him and dart back out into the clearing.

I’ve barely managed to make it two strides past him when something heavy slams into my back.

A yelp slips from my lips as Draven and I crash to the ground. The round wooden trunks that make up the ground dig into my hipbone as I land on my side next to Draven. Scrambling furiously, I try to get my limbs free and crawl away.

Hands appear on my hips before I can get my own hands and knees underneath me. Another startled noise rips from my lungs as Draven yanks me back and flips me around. My back hits the ground with a thud, followed a second later by Draven’s knees landing on either side of my hips as he straddles me. The force of our bodies hitting those strange trunks makes that hollow clanging noise echo around us again.

I try to swing the knife at Draven’s face again, but this time, he’s ready for it. Grabbing my wrist mid-air, he holds my hand steady as he yanks the blade out of my grip. In one fluid motion, he spins the knife in his hand and then presses it against my throat.

Drawing in a sharp breath, I stop struggling underneath him.

“Azaroth’s flame,” he curses, and shoots me an exasperated scowl. “You nearly took my eye out. Who knew you were so violent?”

I huff. “You’re one to talk.”

Amusement flickers in his eyes for the briefest of moments. Then that expression of complete and utter authority descends on his features again. While holding my gaze with commanding eyes, he nods towards my hand. “Alright, you know how this goes.”

I curl my hand into a fist, feeling the cold metal ring dig into my skin. Desperation rips through my chest.

“Why are you even doing this?” I ask. It comes out almost like a shout. And it’s far more high-pitched and breathless than I had planned for it to be. “I made it through all of the other trials. I got the ring. Why can’t you just let me win?”

He holds my gaze with serious eyes, and I can tell that he means every word when he says, “Because you don’t deserve it.”

I slam my fist into the ground in frustration. “Look, I’m sorry about throwing the drink at you. If I had?—”

“I don’t care,” he cuts me off, his voice as merciless as his eyes. “You could beg and plead and bargain with me all night, but it still wouldn’t make a difference.” Cold steel kisses my skin as he slides the knife up higher, pressing the flat of the blade underneath my chin. “Hand it over. Now.”

My heart slams against my ribs as I stare up into his unyielding eyes. And in that moment, I know that I have no other choice.

So I heave a deep sigh and then take off the ring. While holding his hard stare, I drop it in his waiting palm. He slips the ring into one of the pouches along his belt.

---