But I don’t have time for them. I don’t have time for any of this pettiness anymore, and I wave a hand to shoo them away. They fall to the ground, whimpering and nearly formless, and I realize that simple wave of my hand has broken nearly every bone in their bodies to slivers.
They’re crying when they change back to human form to help mend their bones, but I don’t pay any more attention to them. As long as they don’t bother me, I won’t bother them.
I turn to the others, prepared to cut off another attack if necessary, but they’re not coming near me. They’re just watching me in horrified astonishment…which works for me.
But Delphina makes one last pass at me, diving out of the sky as fast as she can, talons aimed straight for my heart. With nothing more than a thought, with a wave of my hand, she disappears.
And the crowd roars even louder. Not because I’ve killed her, although I easily could have. But because she’s re-formed in the infirmary tent on the sidelines. So strange to imagine I could have dealt a mortal blow with a mere thought.
I’m only a few steps away from the goal now, and with each step I take, I shrink a little more, until I’m back down to my normal size.
I pause before I cross, though, and hold the ball up to the audience, in the same way Nuri did. I challenge each and every one of them to hold it as long as I have—which by now must be at least ten minutes, including the time it was trapped, incendiary and vibrating, under my broken body.
Then I shift back to my human form, so that as I step across the bloodred goal line, it’s Grace—just Grace—who is walking the ball across it.
Grace, just Grace, who has somehow managed to beat Cole, beat the Circle, beat the king, and beat the odds.
It’s a good feeling.
As I cross the goal, the arena erupts in cheers and stomping, and I can’t help taunting the king. I offer him the comet. I didn’t think the noise could become more deafening, but it does. Somehow it does. Nuri dips her head in respect, and I wink at her. Then drop the comet onto the ground.
But that last blast of Hudson’s power has decimated me, and the moment the words ring out across the stadium that I’m the winner, I stop. I just stop.
And then fall to my knees as wave after wave of exhaustion rolls right over me.
121
And the Crowd
Goes Wild
It’s over. It’s finally over. That’s all I can think as the world around me goes wild.
I want to get back up, want to check on Jaxon and Hudson and Macy and Flint and Eden and Mekhi and Gwen—all casualties in the battles that have gotten me here, to this moment—but I’m too tired to so much as turn my head. Too tired to do anything but lie here and try to absorb everything that’s just happened.
The crowd is screaming and stomping so loudly that it feels like the arena itself is going to crack wide open. Students are cheering, faculty are clapping, and even most of the Circle are looking at me like they might have underestimated me.
It’s a little strange considering how, less than an hour ago, it felt like everyone in this place was against me. Suspicious, angry, convinced that I didn’t belong here…and now they’re cheering for me like I’m actually one of their own.
And the only thing that’s changed is I actually won the Circle’s little Trial.
I’m still me, still Grace. Half-human, half-gargoyle girl. Only now they seem to think I belong.
Interesting, considering I’ve never wanted to belong less. Never wanted anything more than to simply walk away from this stadium and never look back.
There are only eight people in this entire place who I actually care about—everyone else can go straight to hell.
Ironic? Yes. Something I need to deal with right now? Not even close.
So I drop what I sincerely hope is my last entry into the “Shit I Don’t Have Time For Today” file, then rest my head on the ground and breathe. Just breathe.
I’m going to get up—I am—just as soon as I’m certain that my legs can support me. Turns out doing the entire test on my own and then following it up with some kind of mega power explosion takes a lot out of a girl…especially with the night I had.
But before I can so much as figure out what hurts—or more accurately, what doesn’t hurt, since that’s a much smaller list—Cyrus has lowered the magical force field protecting the playing area just enough to let himself in and is now moving quickly across the grass.
I don’t want to get up, but no way am I meeting this man facedown on the ground. Much less on my knees. So I dig into whatever last reserve of strength I have, and I push myself up and stand. I’m wobbly, but I’m on my feet.