Page 101 of Queen of Thorns
I leap at my attacker, knowing that if they missed me, they’ll be off balance. This might be my only chance. I can’t disarm them or knock them unconscious without seeing or hearing them. So, my only choice is to aim to kill.
I don’t know what this is supposed to be testing, but either way, I’m going to lose if I’m killed in the process.
I send my blade flying down at the foe I can’t see. A clang reverberates through my blade hand—they deflected. Then, a warm, callused hand is wrapped around my upper arm. They’d been going for my throat, I think.
I slice at the arm, and they retreat.
My heart hammers.
I’m definitely fighting a fae—male. A good fighter. They either can’t hear me, or they don’t care when I said I didn’t want to hurt them.
My lips begin trembling as a new, unexplainable anxiety crawls in my bones. Something is wrong. Something... I don’t know what.
I swallow. Am I more injured than I’d realized?
A splash of water on my shins tells me my attacker is coming again, and I quickly measure out their trajectory. I duck and then shove my blade up—and sink it into warm flesh. My stomach drops again.
The body shudders and leaps backward, falling to the ground. I’m honestly not sure where I hit. Maybe shoulder. Stomach. I may have hit a major organ, but based on the resistance, I don’t think so.
The ground shakes slightly with the fall of his body. Water rushes over my feet. I wait.
Nausea rises in my throat as warmth fills the air around me in a flash. The tingle of magic zaps near me. I flinch, but no magical blow comes.
Light magic.
Healing magic.
Am I fighting the Light Ancient himself?
My breathing quickens. No. No, I’m not fighting the Light King. My blade shakes in my trembling fingers. “Rev,” I whisper. The realization hits me like a truck.
The hair on my arms stands up, and my mind begins to race. I cut him deep, hurt him. My heart pounding.
He’s okay, I tell myself. He healed himself.
But now what? I’m fighting Rev, and he doesn’t know it’s me, and there is no way for me to tell him.
Rev charges again; this time, his footfalls are so hard the ground vibrates. I drop my blade and then dodge. “Rev!” I call to him. “Rev!” I scream as loudly as I can.
I grip his wrist, but he rips it from my hand before I can do more. How do I signal to him it’s me? How do I stop this?
“Rev, please,” I whisper.
