Page 26 of Trial of Thorns
Icouldmake it through this race without it. Maybe. My wound is bleeding pretty badly. I’d have to empty out my magical well, expose my abilities, and I’d be on death’s door by the time I reached the finish line, but I could feasibly do it.
I bite my lip as I consider. I’ve never been very good at judgement calls but this one—this one I’ll just have to take the chance. I have several more items to add to my “to-get” list for the next trial: dagger, potions, allies.
Because clearly that’s playing a large part in this stupid thing. Rev has his three ruling court friends. The other ruling court candidates are presumably against him. Are they working together? Would they want to take on Rev’s enemy as part of their strategy?
I’ll have to look into these possiblities, but until then, I have the beginnings of an alliance right here in my hand. I just have to take the risk.
I gulp down the blue potion with a wince. I keep my eyes closed while chanting,please don’t die. Please don’t die.
The roaring pain in my back subsides. I roll my shoulder, shivering at the strange sensation of the blood clotting quickly and strongly. The muscle is still weak and sore, not healed, but the pain has subsided and the blood loss contained. A temporary fix.
I’ll take it.
Another reminder: figure out my new friend’s name because I can’t keep calling himdwarf.
I swallow and stand. I’ve made it maybe a third of the way through the challenge but wasted at least half the time. Now, I’m going to have to race for it.
Rev
Rook and Brielle runahead, laughing as they push at each other. She’s in a better mood than I’ve seen her in days, assuming we’ve ended the betrayer once and for all.
I am less certain, but I won’t dim her joy.
Brielle casts a wall of fire that stops Rook in his tracks. She laughs heartily as she sprints farther toward the finish line. Rook sneers at the flames snaking toward the sky, blocking our path. I blast a jolt of light through the wall that creates a door-sized opening. He winks at me and races through. He has a little catching up to do.
I, on the other hand, am not worried about time. I’ll push through, running through the next few miles, but if anyone passes me, I am not concerned.
I’m more worried about whether the betrayer made it out of my trap alive. She shouldn’t have, but you never know. The most evil fae tend to be the slipperiest. And the most beautiful. Go figure.
I won’t feel the relief until her corpse is removed or at least when her name is crossed from the champions’ board.
I climb up a wall of thorns and swing over an acid pit. These obstacles are easy.
No fae pass me from behind for several miles, even though I’m taking my time, which I find comforting. I pass up one of the lesser court’s champions and another that’s trapped in a sinking sandpit. That leaves only seven ahead of me—all ruling courts. That works for me. If we could get all the weak courts out of the competition, any political grumbling would end quickly and easily, and I’d be able to focus on my real competition.
I pass the six mile marker, followed quickly by the seven mile marker only minutes later. Too easy. I’m now three miles from the finish with twenty-five minutes to go. At full speed it would take me ten, max.
