Page 128 of Fearless

Gulping down air, I force my frantic thoughts to calm.

It was just a nightmare.

I blow out a breath, letting the foreign rush of relief wash over me. My gaze slides to the window and the bright sky beyond.

Today is my third Trial.

Last night was a nightmare.

I let out a shaky laugh before reaching to rip the many blankets from my sweaty skin.

Something slams into me at the sight of my hand. I can’t quite identify it at first—not until my fingers begin to shake.

It’s that familiar agony, I realize.

That shaking begins to spread across my body, leaving me shuddering with a sudden sense of horror.

I’m covered in blood.

It’s staining my palms, crawling up trembling arms to wrap aroundmy neck. Sand coats my body, covering me in a layer of grit and memory. Petrified, I peer down at my hands, knowing it is not my blood that clings to them.

This is my living nightmare.

I scream.

The choked sound has Ellie scurrying into the room as I leap from the bed. My bloody fingernails tear at my skin, trying to claw away the proof of this Trial.

“Paedyn!” Ellie’s shout sounds muffled. “It’s okay! Paedyn, you’re okay!”

I whip toward her, tears streaming down my face. “Where is he?! Tell me it wasn’t real, Ellie.” My fingers dig into her shoulders, as if trying to shake the answer from her lips. “Tell me he’s not dead. Please,” I whimper. “Please tell me it’s not real.”

Her mouth opens. Then it closes.

I back away slowly. “No.”

Tears pool in her eyes. “You’ve been sleeping for nearly a day.”

“No,” I whisper, my lip quivering. “No, it was just a nightmare. Today is my Trial.”

Ellie shakes her head. “I’m sorry, Paedyn.”

My knees hit the floor.

I held the dagger as it sunk into his chest.

She holds me as I cry.

I know what it feels like to kill him.

CHAPTER 48Paedyn

I sit in a pool of red.

I’m surrounded by scarlet swirls, the tub stained with the remnants of my final Trial. My gaze is red-rimmed and unseeing, fixed blearily on the wall opposite me.

A soft hand wraps around my wrist. I don’t fight the gentle touch even as it lifts my limp arm from the tub’s porcelain edge. A rough bar of soap then scrubs against my skin, back and forth until the hardened blood loses its grip on my flesh.

Back and forth. Back and forth.

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