We inched ourselves across the arena. Each scuff of our bodies over the dirt was amplified in the dead silence of the crowd.
“Little more. There.” I stretched and grabbed the sword, then returned to my position and held the blade over her.
Her eyes sparkled up at me, full of mirth, despite all the trouble we’d been through and all the impossible tasks still before us.
I wanted to kiss her.
It was the simple truth, and to deny the feeling would be like denying the sky was blue or the ocean was deep. I wanted to feel her annoying smirk against my mouth and figure out her stupidlaces once and for all, then let her lock her disgusting feet around my hips and forget everything else for a while.
A trumpet wailed, snapping me out of my fixation. With much confusion, the herald declared me the winner. Shaking myself, I stood and helped Courtney to her feet, brushing dirt off her back, then drawing away when my fingers wanted to linger.
I should have grabbed her right there, told her what I wanted, asked her if she wanted it too. Instead, I let her go, telling myself,Later. There would be time for kissing later. But, since there was an undead army on the loose, I had no idea if that was true.
“Psst,” a tiny voice whispered.
I turned to find Greg gesturing me closer from his hiding place. Inconspicuously, Courtney and I sidled closer. “What is it?” I asked. “Did something happen last night while we were gone?”
“No,” Greg said. “I was curious if your dinner was to your liking? Both of you look so weary, I was worried you did not receive proper nourishment.”
Courtney and I exchanged a look. Greg was so eager to please, I didn’t want to tell him that the meal he’d so thoughtfully packed had led to a crisis, so I only nodded and said, “Oh yeah, it was great. We really appreciate your help, dude.”
“Have you heard anything more about the general?” Courtney asked. “Has she been found?”
Somberly, Greg shook his head.
Amy called for us then, so Courtney gave him a quick “We’ll catch up with you later,” before turning and muttering to me. “I’ll let you win this one as quickly as possible, too, so we won’t even have to waste our time with whatever the third challenge is, then we’ll figure out a way to talk Amy into increasing security.”
We were taken to a large amphitheater down by the beach, the crowd following after us. Crashing waves drowned out the noise from the multitude seating themselves in the circular gallery.
Amy led us into the basin of the theater, where he instructed us to stand facing each other. “Defeat your opponent using magic alone,” he said, tucking his hands into his sleeves and backing away.
Well, there went our plan to get through the tournament fast. We’d be here until one of us starved to death. There wasn’t anything Courtney could do to let me win this one.
Unless therewassomething she could do.
When I’d called Courtney on her sex dream bluff, I’d told her all we needed was physical attraction to bring our magic to life. Magically speaking, physical attraction had gotten us nowhere. Maybe we needed to allow an emotional connection. I’d felt one forming that night we baked the tarts at Mama’s house and in the sacred field, but we were both still resisting. Courtney had always been as adamant about hating me as I was about hating her, but I needed her to sympathize with me for one minute.
“I had a rough childhood,” I said, low enough no one could hear it over the waves. “Remember when I told you I wanted to be a slug when I was a kid?”
“Yeah.” The ocean breeze lifted her hair off her neck, whipping it around her face.
“I was nine. My mom had me young, and all I heard my whole life was how she had to sacrifice everything for me. And I get it. I do. But what nine-year-old wants to hear how their existence crushed their mother’s dreams?”
“I’m sure she didn’t mean it like that.” Courtney’s eyes darted like she was searching for an escape.
“Oh no, she did,” I said, hands sinking into my pockets. Finding the pebble. Clenching it. “One day, she took me to my grandparents’ house and told me to wait out on the porch. I sat on the step and listened as their voices rose until I heard her yell, ‘Raising him is ruining my life, and I can’t do it anymore!’I didn’t look up when the back door slammed, not when her car fired up, and not when she pulled away without me. I watched the slugs on the driveway instead, and I wished I were one. All slugs cared about was avoiding salt and eating fungus. A slug wouldn’t hurt like I did.”
CHAPTER 28INWHICHI FALLTHRICE—METAPHORICALLY, CLUMSILY,ANDWITHTHEHELPOFABATTLE-AX
COURTNEY
I stared at Bryce, and Bryce stared at his feet, shoulders hunched and brows furrowed.
“Oh,” I said so softly I wasn’t sure he heard. I didn’t know what else to say.
Though I tried to hold it back, my heart went out to him like a runaway puppy down a street—recklessly, with no thought for the consequences. My throat clogged, and my eyes prickled. I wanted to run to him and throw my arms around him, but I’d noticed traditional forms of comfort often scared him more than anything else. Now I knew why. The people who felt the closest to him were the ones who hurt him.
So I just stood there, helpless, imagining little Bryce at nine years old, feeling so guilty for something that wasn’t his fault, so hurt he wished he were a slug. It made sense why he kept people at a distance, maybe even why the thought of being the Chosen One when no one had ever chosen him might be appealing. I was wrong about him. He didn’t fight for people because he thought they’d reciprocate his effort. He fought for people because no one had ever fought for him. My heart constrictedslowly, like a neglected old machine whirring to life, dust flying and rusty cogs groaning.
