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)
Gods. He's definitely going for the kill.
"Allow me to bite him," Typhon suggests, and there's a slight note of urgency in his tone. "I could leave him alive and only remove a few pieces of his meat sack."
"No biting. But if he kills me, I give you permission to kill him back."
I feel a pang of reluctance and irritation through the tether, but also acceptance.
I dodge two more strikes, try to get in range to land a blow with my rapier, and earn a vicious kick to my stomach that sends me crumpling to the ground.
I clench tight as waves of sudden nausea roll through my body twisting my insides like a wet rag being wrung out.
Okay. New plan.
I reach into the water saturating the air, drawing scraps of power into my body. Yes, I'm going to cheat, but only a little. And only in a way that nobody will notice.
Sweat runs down Titus' scalp, so I reach out and direct as much of it as I can into his eyes as I get back to my feet, weapon drawn.
He flinches, blinking through the stinging salt and nearly dropping his guard to wipe his eyes.
I don't wait.
I'm already dashing toward him, spinning as he tries to strike, and then I'm behind Titus. My blade is pressed to the side of his neck. "Yield," I say, breath still coming in hard gasps.
Titus tenses, and I think he’s about to push his luck and fight on. But finally, he relaxes. "I yield."
My victory earns a few secret smiles from Beck, Ambrose, and Mireen, but nobody else visibly reacts. Well, unless I can count the way Raith is looking at Titus as a reaction. It almost looks like Raith is thinking about dismembering Titus limb by limb. The orange on his mark flares suddenly, pulsing quickly. I've learned from our training sessions that it pulses when his emotions are running high.
The other first-year fires, including those who were affinities before Confluence Day, gather around Raith and drag his attention away with something that looks relatively urgent. They’re all speaking quickly to him as he listens, nodding his head. Serena is the only notable absence.
Word spread about what she tried on Confluence Day, and now she's more or less exiled to spend time with Malakai and the other waters who follow him. Nobody else wants anything to do with her.
But other than Raith and my friends, nobody dares to show a reaction to the outcome of our match. The official announcement of the Crucible completely erased any of the relaxed tension of the past few months. Surviving Confluence Day is in the past, now, and surviving the Crucible is on everyone’s minds. Worse, many already seem driven to do whatever it may take to win. Even if it means murder.
In just a few weeks, we'll all divide into groups of five and fight for a chance to earn legacy status for our team. And, of course, we'll be isolated outside castle walls where it seems like anything will go.
People are going to die, and we all know it.
As I step down from the platform, I notice an odd tingling in my hands. I feel a blend of elements suddenly bend toward me like metal shavings to a magnet.
The ache in my stomach from where Titus kicked me turns warm, then the pain eases slightly. Power flares. Before I can even stop to wonder what's happening, the sensation is gone.
"Hmm," Typhon rumbles. "What was that, angry human?"
"I was hoping you could tell me."
I lower a hand to my stomach and touch it, finding the skin is still tender, but maybe less than before?
My friends approach me once I'm off the sparring ring.
Ambrose is covered in sweat and sporting a raised welt along his cheek, like he caught a blade there. "Gods, Nessa. From here, it looked like he was going for killing blows."
"He was," I say, still distracted by whatever that sudden power was.
Mireen is sweaty but seems uninjured, her red hair still intact in a tight and intricate braid that keeps it close to her scalp. "You'd think they would want us learning to work together." There's an edge to her tone—the same edge I've learned always comes when she's talking about Empire and Red Kingdom. "Instead they keep structuring this place so we're at each other's throats. What good does that do any of us?"
"Well," Beck says as we all head toward the showers. "Pilton makes it seem like primals tend to fight in small groups on the outside. It's not like we're going to be deployed together as a large group at any point. Maybe it makes more sense for us to form strong loyalties with just a few."
"Don't defend them," Mireen snaps. "Titus could've killed Nessa back there."
“He was certainly trying. I guess the announcement of the Crucible means attempted murder is back on the menu.”