Page 14 of Empire of Flame and Thorns

Only three people keep running.

I watch with brows furrowed in confusion as a fae woman with black hair and eyes that are blue and silver runs straight for the iron wall farther down from the gate. Right before she can crash into it, a block of ice shoots up from the ground underneath her. It pushes her into the air, and she sails gracefully over the wall.

A few seconds later, a fae man a short distance from her does the same thing, except with a block of stone instead of ice.

The third person who kept running continues farther down along the wall. Her brown hair flutters in the wind as she moves. Right before she reaches the wall, a tree sprouts right out of the ground.

I jerk back in shock.

Tree magic? With wide eyes, I stare at the fae woman as she nimbly climbs the tree. I didn’t even know that we had someone with that kind of magic in our city.

The people around me seem equally surprised, because they also stare at her while she jumps over the wall and into another tree that she must have grown from the ground. Both trees then sink back into the grass.

A scream shatters through the air.

I snap my gaze back to the gate to find that a guy is trying to fight his way past Alistair and his gang. The sound seems to jolt everyone else out of their stupor too, because they all lurch into motion as well.

Magic flashes through the air as several people try to force their way through.

Desperation rips at my chest. I know that I won’t be able to fight my way through. My magic isn’t suited for that kind of brute force attack.

My gaze slides to the guy on the far right, and an idea forms in my mind. Maybe I can sneak through while they’re otherwise occupied.

Sneaking around the group of increasingly frantic contestants, I approach the edge of the gate.

The person who is supposed to guard that side is a muscular guy with brown hair. But his red and brown eyes are currently fixed on the three people trying to force their way past him from the front.

I stick to the shadows, creeping along the wall until I’m right next to the gate. My heart patters in my chest. I suck in a quick breath.

Then I dart forward, intending to quickly slip around the corner and in through the gate.

Pain pulses through me as a large hand wraps around my upper arm and yanks me back out before I have gotten more than one foot inside. I try to pull my arm free, but the grip is impossibly strong. It might as well have been a steel manacle.

“Nice try,” a voice growls.

Looking up, I meet the red and brown eyes of the man I thought was too preoccupied to notice me. His eyes glow, indicating that he is using some kind of magic, though I don’t know what kind.

Wicked satisfaction blows across his face. He moves his arm, and I can feel that he is about to use his grip on me to physically throw me away from the gate.

“I’m sorry,” I blurt out.

That stuns him enough that he pauses for a moment.

I quickly bow my head and make my voice pleading. “I’m sorry. I just really want to compete in these trials. Please.”

From his perspective, it looks like I’m begging. But what I’m really doing is hiding my eyes so that he won’t see that I’ve begun channeling magic.

Reaching out with my magic, I push at an emotion that I hope will be there after my little show of pitiful pleading.

It’s not there, so I keep speaking.

“I’ve been dreaming of competing in this tournament since I was a kid,” I lie, keeping my voice soft and sad and pleading. “I just want to prove that I’m good enough. Please.”

I push with my magic again.

Victory pulses through me when I find a small pink spark of sympathy inside him. I pour my magic towards it, making it grow.

His grip on my arm loosens a little.

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