Total pages in book: 214
Estimated words: 195876 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 979(@200wpm)___ 784(@250wpm)___ 653(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 195876 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 979(@200wpm)___ 784(@250wpm)___ 653(@300wpm)
I put the thought from my mind and pick up the dagger, testing its weight.
It's perfectly balanced, the blade wickedly sharp. This is no training weapon with its dulled edges—this is the real thing, deadly and beautiful. My breath catches as I realize what this means. First-years aren't allowed real weapons; they're restricted to the blunted training versions until second year. Raith must have risked serious punishment to acquire this for me, though I still have no idea how he managed it.
"Quite thoughtful of the fire human," Typhon observes. "Perhaps he's not entirely useless after all."
"High praise coming from you," I murmur, turning the blade over in my hand.
I run my fingertip over the finely made weapon and trying to ignore the blossoming of warmth and appreciation I feel for Raith. Feeling for him is dangerous, but the damn man keeps making me do it all the same.
And where the hells did he get something like this? I plan to ask him tonight, even though I'm almost certain he's not going to tell me.
Fucking Raith…
I slide the dagger into my boot and feel how snugly it fits against my ankle. The weight is comforting as I head toward the room where I'll meet him to train.
The castle is busy as groups of first-years travel around, mostly five in number. It's obvious that everyone is using as much of their time to train for the Crucible as possible, and I feel like I'm watching the preparations for a bloody war. The upper-years look just as preoccupied and tense. Part of me wonders what they're going to face, but most of me doesn't even want to know.
I find the room where I usually meet with Raith and push open the door.
He's standing in the center of the room, eyes heavy as the shadows fall strangely on his face.
"Nessa," he says, voice slightly flat. Great. When we first started training together, his voice had that kind of lifeless quality, as if he was making absolutely sure I knew we were only together for business. Is he trying to push me away again?
"Hey. I got the dagger," I say as I step inside and close the door behind me. "Where the hells did you get something like this, anyway?"
"Come closer."
Of course he won't tell me. Frowning, I approach him.
"Angry human... something is wrong."
"You hid it well," Raith says. He starts to pace and circle me like we're sparring, but his blade is still sheathed on his back.
"What are you talking about?"
"Not quite well enough, we're afraid. We have had to strike out a few times. Destroy those who suspected."
We? What the hell is he talking about?
"Raith... you're scaring me."
He smiles, and the unnatural shape of it makes my blood go cold. Raith hardly ever smiles, and when he does... it doesn't look like that.
"Show me how well he has trained you, Nessa." With a whisper of steel, Raith draws his sword from his back and holds it toward me. The metal still vibrates as he levels the blade between my eyes, ringing in my ears.
"How well who has trained me…” I ask slowly, mind putting the pieces together, terrifying piece after terrifying piece.
“Raith Hollow,” it says, pulling the sword back, gripping it with both hands, and moving toward me.
29
It's a siphon.
Raith's warning comes to me almost immediately. If I see a siphon, I need to run. I can't fight it. I shouldn't even try.
I feel Typhon materializing beside me as I turn and run for the door. But a wave of purple energy flares in front of the door, blasting me back with noxious fumes that stink of sulphur and decay. The force of it slams me against the stone floor, knocking the breath from my lungs.
"We're going to have to try to fight. That's the only way out," I tell Typhon through the bond.
"Then we fight."
The slight sense of resolution through the tether worries me. I don't feel confidence. I don't feel excitement. It's more like the feeling one might have before taking a leap of faith. Before rushing toward certain death.
I turn toward the siphon that still looks like Raith, and I draw my rapier. My hand trembles slightly, but I force it steady.
I know it's not him. Not really. It's a siphon and it's taking Raith's form. It's the only explanation.
The real Raith is out there somewhere and likely headed to this very room to meet me for training. And if he wasn’t already on his way, I don’t have to ask to know Typhon will have called for him through Pyrin. But I can't count on him arriving in time.
I reach into the room around me, pulling in any elemental energy I can manage—fire from the torches, air from the currents coming from high above, water from the moisture in the air, and earth from the dirt packed in between the stones. The energy tingles through my fingertips, making the hairs on my arms stand on end.