Page 127 of By the Orchid and the Owl
Where he hurled the body in.
And then redexplodedas the crocodiles lunged and began to feast.
I watched the flower of blood unfold in the marsh, my eyes tracking that color rather than the frenzied jerking and tearing of the crocodiles.
My knees felt hollow. Dead. My classmate was dead, and Ishouldbe turning to Coen and asking him how he could have done that so callously without giving thought to any other options.
“Thank you,” I whispered instead.
Coen’s face took on a sort of sagging quality as he looked at me. His mouth parted, the edges of his eyebrows fell, his jaw loosened. Even his fists uncurled, letting the dagger fall into the foliage like it had never existed.
But what came out of his mouth was still rigid and tight.
“You’re bruised.”
Indeed, my bruises were peppering my vision, mottling the sight of Coen with blue and gray and black. My head bellowed where that first rock had hit me. The scream lodged in my throat had mixed with bile, turning acrid.
The world gave out.
I must have woken up barely five minutes later, because when a gentle swaying motion pulled me back into consciousness, I could see through my lashes that I was cradled against Coen’s chest as he carried me through the jungle.
“Emelle.” My voice was a ghostly version of its old self. “Lander.”Quinn.
“They’re safe.” Coen didn’t look down at me as he strode easily through the underbrush. From the way the shadows were peeling back, I thought we might be getting close to campus. “Lander ran off Quinn and that Summoner kid, and Emelle…” His lips pinched, almost like he was smothering a smile. “She got Jenia.”
“GotJenia? What do you meangot?”
Even though relief swamped me at the knowledge that Lander and Emelle—and Quinn, too, despite her continuous betrayals—were all still alive, my heart hollowed at that last part.
Had we lost two classmates today? Was Jenia as cold and lifeless andgoneas Fergus? If so, my confusing mix of emotions for her fate could come later; first, I’d have to make sure Emelle was alright. Surely, she’d be devastated if she’d had to resort to murder.
But Coen’s lips relaxed a moment later, and he shook his head.
“Emelle didn’t kill her, if that’s what you’re asking, but… you’ll see.”
I didn’t have the strength to press that issue so I simply leaned my head against Coen’s chest for a moment and listened to the way his heartbeat thumped against my ear, matching the length of his strides.
Coen had come for me.Even though we were separated, even though his consciousness never even flitted through my mind anymore, he’d sensed something was off and tracked me to the marsh.
During the pentaball game? Or after?
“Did you win?”
Coen nearly stopped in his tracks at that hushed question. For a moment I thought it was because of a twisting of trees in our way. I sent a soft hum spiraling out toward them, and their branches bowed to form a pathway.
Coen lurched forward again, but this time he was sparing glances down at me.
“You never cease to amaze me with the kinds of questions you ask. You’re bruised and scraped and covered in dirty swamp water, and you want to ask me how the game went?”
“Yes,” I said firmly. “Kimber was… I think she was—”
Trying to distract you,I finished in my head.
And as if that were an invitation—which, maybe it was—Coen melted into my mind, filling those cold spaces between my vines of ice that had now wrapped so tightly around my heart, I wasn’t sure if they’d ever break. But whereas his consciousness was all buttery warmth, his entire body had gone rigid against me.
Kimber was definitely trying to distract me, and I regret to say that it worked for a good ten minutes. I didn’t want to touch her thoughts, to read her mind for even a second and feel all her hate and jealousy, so I couldn’t predict her next moves.
How did you know I wasn’t in those stadiums, then? I asked.
