Page 36 of The Phoenix Inheritance

My only solution is to snatch Isobel’s firestone before Warwick does, to make certain she isn’t ripped apart by his claws. I suspect my brother won’t be too careful in the taking, as being so precise with our talons is too difficult if you don’t care for the being you’re grappling with.

When the start of the competition resounds, I take off remarkably better than in the past. But to my horror, it’s the weakest target Warwick chooses first – Isobel. He swoops down on her so swiftly he’s little more than a blur, and her legs don’t carry her fast enough by far.

I plunge towards Warwick and throw him off course. The audience hoots in dismay. Shocked, my brother retaliates with a hearty push of his own. Out of the corner of my eye, I spot Isobel running away. Smart girl.

He then flies away to aim another Hunter, a tall male with curly brown hair, who fights back fiercely. Confident that the man will keep him busy for the moment, I sail upwards, scanning for Isobel. But her mop of dirty blonde hair is nowhere to be seen. She must’ve found a place to hide.

Warwick is still struggling, and by now the Hunter is covered in blood. My heart pumps. I don’t care for the man in the least. Only about Isobel. He’s my enemy. I shouldn’t care if he dies a gory death in my brother’s claws.

But a small part of me realizes that can’t be exactly true – this mortal is in the arena for the exact same purpose as Isobel, to serve as entertainment to a crowd of rowdy beasts. I can’t cherish one human only to despise the rest of her kind. Mate or not, how can I look Isobel in the eye if I let her friends be massacred?

The first blow cuts my considerations short. Six more until the match is finished.

I dive back down and shove Warwick away with all my might. The force of the impact makes the Hunter drop his firestone, which I hastily pick up before speeding to the next target.

I can’t save all the humans on the field. Going to such lengths to avoid scratching their flesh requires a dexterity that slows me down. My brother, backed by years of education on the inferiority of mortals, certainly doesn’t make such efforts. One duel is particularly gruesome as a Hunter even tries to swallow his firestone.

By the fifth horn, I manage to steal one of Warwick’s points by picking up the prize he drops when a human recklessly hangs onto his talons. Now he only leads by six to five, and there are two targets left.

One of them is Isobel. Yet she’s still nowhere to be seen.

I don’t know if I should be grateful for her resourcefulness or curse her for not letting me find her sooner. But if she manages to stay hidden before the seventh horn blares, Isobel will remain unscathed.

If that person is truly your other half, my brother’s words from the ball echo in my mind, the phoenix in you will sense the slightest threat, deep inside your bones.

The thought soothes the panic brewing in my chest. Isobel is my mate, I’m almost certain of it. No matter what, I always have that advantage over Warwick. Even if he attacks her beyond my periphery, I’ll know the second it happens.

The sixth call toots. With that assurance in mind, I decide to tackle the other human. This one is no less stubborn than the rest, and I only narrowly avoid breaking his wrist as he clings to the firestone as if he were holding on to dear life. I can’t help but grudgingly admire them for their tenacity, for their willingness to fight until the very end for the sake of their principles.

A piercing shriek makes me freeze. I barely extricate the firestone when my eyes zero in on a sight that makes my heart drop, a few hundreds of feet away.

Isobel, who seemed to have found refuge at the threshold of one of the many tunnels that serve as the arena’s portals, has been yanked out by Warwick and is currently battling him with all the fierceness of a lioness.

Bloody cuts mar her fair skin, and her dress is shredded to reveal even more wounds.

This has been going on for a while. And I didn’t even sense it.

The world disintegrates before my very eyes as all the budding hope that bolstered me until now is swept away.

If I didn’t feel the threat, that can only mean…

But at that moment Isobel looks at me pleadingly, and fated or not, there’s no way I can’t swoop to her side. She won’t let go though Warwick claws her fine fingers until they’re raw. And still she begs me with her eyes.

I know what she’s doing. That reckless, brave, silly, selfless woman. Isobel is trying to keep her firestone for me. I can’t fly fast enough as for the first time since I was a child, wetness gathers in my eyes. I wish she would let go.

Even if I don’t become King. Even if she’s not what I wanted her to be.

When I finally make it to the struggle between my brother and the woman I built a future with in my dreams, taking her firestone is as effortless as picking an apple from a tree. Isobel hands it to me without a shred of resistance.

The seventh horn booms through the stadium. My father cries that I won the tournament, that I will succeed him to the throne. The crowd explodes – whether it’s in victory or displeasure, I don’t know.

All I see is that Isobel falls to the ground.

I drop to my knees. Though my name is being repeated over and over like in my wildest fantasies, I don't think I’ve ever been more wretched within, not even in all the years before I met Isobel. Because through the tears in her dress I can see her scar seems to have grown even larger, and because…

“... I love you.”

I wanted to tell her so much more. That she and I were meant to be, star-crossed, that I would hold her for eternity.

Yet my paltry confession puts a wobbly smile on Isobel’s face.

“I love you too.”

My heart soars and rips apart at once. I yearned for the absolute – not those few measly words mortals utter all the time. Still, when Isobel says them, it makes a part of me tremor with emotion.

The part of me that fell from the Solenz cliffs in a jumbled heap onto her nets. The part that flushed red by the lake because Isobel was the first female I saw undressed, and because she wasn’t that homely after all. The part that fumbled to make love for the first time in my nineteen years, that secretly laughed with her each time I got entangled in her fish traps, that gulped down her stew to not hurt her feelings.

I should’ve known, I realize with terrible clarity. It was all so imperfect. It was all so… Human.

---