His laugh is strained. “You say that like you’ll actually listen to me for once.”
“Kai, I’m about to add another knife to your back if you don’t—”
“I just need you to pull it out.”
I blink. He says this so casually that I almost think he’s joking. “Then we need to have a Healer here, ready to mend it as soon as the knife is out.”
He breathes out a strained laugh, the muscles beneath his torn shirt shifting. “I’m offended you doubt my abilities so much. There’s a Healer not too far from me. I can feel their power. I’ll heal myself.”
“Right. Okay.” I take a deep breath and grip the handle of the knife. “This is going to hurt.”
“You know, it’s a shame we never got to finish our dance,” he says. “It was the first time I could actually focus on you rather than dodging your stomping feet—”
I yank the knife out in one fluid motion. He grunts and doubles over on the stone. I smile slightly, having gotten revenge on him for what he said about my dancing, however true it may be.
I step around the rubble and crouch in front of him, my face close to his as I watch the pain crowd his handsome features. I flip the knife in my hand, still slick with his blood. “Tell me, did that hurt as much as my stomping feet?”
His laugh is gruff, pained. I stand to my feet and watch as he reaches a hand around his shoulder, pressing it atop the wound now steadily gushing blood. I stare as the shredded skin stitches itself back together. Stare as flesh and muscle reform before my very eyes, leaving nothing but a jagged scar to join the others across his back.
The tension eases from his stiffened shoulders and he sighs in relief. “Much better. Thank you.” I’m wondering how rarely those last two words leave his mouth when the corner of it lifts, and he uncoils to his feet. “Who knew that you’d be the one to pull a knife from my back and not the one to bury it there.”
“There’s still plenty of time for that, don’t worry.”
He grins, white teeth flashing against his filthy features. Then he rolls his neck and stretches, acting as though he wasn’t just impaled a few moments ago.
His palm is suddenly extended towards me expectantly, and I stare at the callouses blankly. When I make no move, he slowly drops his hand to the one at my side, his rough fingers closing around my wrist.
My heartbeat quickens and I curse the stupid organ. He pulls my arm, my hand, towards him—the one still clutching the throwing knife. Then his other hand brushes against my palm, gently prying the handle from my fingers.
“You have enough of these to bury in my back, don’t you think?” he says softly, his hand still wrapped around my wrist where he can likely feel my stupid, stammering pulse beneath his fingers. “So, I think I’ll hold on to this one.”
I step out of his grasp, needing to put some space between us. “Don’t you have an important meeting you’re supposed to be in right now?” I ask because I simply can’t think of anything else to say.
“Probably.” He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I’m assuming Kitt filled you in.” I nod before he says, “Father will go through with the Trials. A power move, of course. And he’ll need to finally inform the people of what is going on. He can’t hide who and what the Resistance is after tonight.”
“What happened?” I breathe before I’m suddenly annoyed with him, remembering what he did. “What happened after you bodily removed me from this room like an ass, even though I could have helped?”
Now he’s laughing at me. “You seem to keep forgetting who I am, Gray.”
“My apologies, Your Highness. What happened after you bodily removed me from this room like a royal ass?”
“Well, that’s progress, I suppose.” He smiles, looking me over again with that piercing gaze of his. “And to answer your question, that wasn’t your fight. Not to mention that I couldn’t risk a contestant dying before the first Trial even began.”
My laugh is bitter. “You know damn well that I can take care of myself—”
“And you know damn well that I could take care of it, myself.”
“You got stabbed, remember?”
“Occupational hazard.”
We stare at each other, faces close. I can smell the sweat, blood, and dirt on him, along with the underlying scent of pine still lingering on his skin. I’m breathing heavily, and after a moment too long, I finally take a step away from him.
“How many casualties?” I ask slowly.
He looks away from me, sucking in a breath before saying, “Only two Elites dead, multiple injured. Four Ordinaries dead, and only two prisoners.” His eyes trail back to mine as he says, “There were less than a dozen Ordinaries to begin with, which makes me wonder what their real mission was since I don’t believe it was to attack a ballroom full of Elites.”
I nod absentmindedly, taking in the information. “So, some escaped?”
A muscle feathers in his jaw. “Unfortunately.” With that, he begins to back away from me, his eyes never leaving mine. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Gray.”
“See you tomorrow, Azer.”
He finally turns, making his way across the ballroom as I watch his retreating form.
Then he calls over his shoulder. “Do me a favor, darling?”
“And what’s that?”
“Promise me you’ll stay alive long enough to stab me in the back?”
I laugh loudly. “That’s been my goal all along, prince.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Kai
I nearly swallow a mouthful of damp dirt. My eyes flutter open and I cough into the wet soil beneath me, soaking my clothes and causing them to cling uncomfortably to my body. I roll onto my back, crunching on moss, twigs, and rocks as I blink against the sunlight streaming through looming, tall trees.
Plagues, where am I?
The melody of chirping birds awoke me from my heavy, deep sleep.
Drugged sleep.
Trees crowd the vibrant blue sky above, most of them tall, ominous pines that extend fingers of foliage high into the clouds—and I’d know them anywhere. One becomes familiar with the trees they’re forced to scale countless times to overcome a fear of heights.
The Whispers.
I’m in the bloody forest.
I stand to my feet, feeling dizzy, drained, and drugged. An odd pressure at my right forearm has me looking down to see a thin leather band wrapping around it, the ends fused together tightly. It would be cutting off blood circulation completely if it were any tighter, leaving my arm utterly useless.
The sun beats down on me as I spin slowly in place, scanning my surroundings. There is nothing and no one but trees, rocks, and uneven forest ground beneath me, caging me in with foliage.
Why the hell am I in the Whispers?
Obviously, I knew the Trials were still on. That, and the Resistance were all we talked about for hours last night. The throne room is where I spent my evening and early morning, along with Kitt, the king, and his advisers.
My throat is hoarse and scratchy from the long hours of arguing and debating the best course of action with this Resistance, this threat. And now, more than ever, my men and myself are tasked with finding these Resistance members and putting an end to them.