I know the difference between pain and poison, and this is certainly the latter.
So, I keep her awake, keep her occupied. My voice is low as I quietly talk to her, teasing her and reminiscing on old times. She mostly responds with breathy laughs or a nod of her head, but I’ll take anything over silence.
The moon is our only guide, casting pale light that does little to illuminate the mountain we have been climbing since the moment we woke up. The terrain is so steep now that Andy is clinging to me with her legs wrapped around my waist, freeing my hands to help me climb.
I feel her head slump against my shoulder, overcome by exhaustion and excruciating pain. “Hey,” I say softly, gently jostling her to keep her awake. “We’re almost there. Just a little longer.” I feel her nod wearily and try to pick up my pace.
I can see the flat plateau of the peak looming above us.
Nearly there.
I’m climbing, hands scraping at the stone and rocks slipping from beneath me. I’ve lost my footing, lost my hold more than once and almost sent us falling to an unfortunate death. But we are nearly there. This nightmare is nearly over. We’re nearly free.
I see the shadows of figures lined all around us. Awaiting us. The Sights watch as we scramble to the top, breathless and beaded with sweat, starving and exhausted.
Exhilarated.
We’ve done it.
I drag myself over the edge, Andy clinging to me fiercely. Only my dignity forces me to my feet, though fatigue threatens to cripple me.
“We did it,” Braxton exhales beside me as we all stand, stunned. The plateau is a large slab of uneven rock and dirt, stretching far wider than it appears from below. I look around, scanning my surroundings, spotting dozens of Sights dotting the peak.
Then my eyes sweep over a tall, wooden pole, buried into the ground at the far end of the peak. A green, battered flag hangs at its top, whipping in the wind.
What new game is this?
Movement stirs in the corner of my eye, and I squint in the dim light to focus on the figures climbing up the opposite side of the plateau, joining us. And despite the darkness, I know exactly who they are.
Jax. Ace. Paedyn.
We all stare at each other, each group stunned and still.
A Sight steps forward, his voice clear as he reads a message off the tattered paper in his hand. “We are glad you learned to work as one, but oh, this Trial is not done. The rules of the game have changed a bit, so the first to capture the flag will win it.” He clears his throat before continuing, “There can only be one winner among you. The only question is who?”
Silence.
Stillness.
His words sink in, seeping their way into my brain. I shouldn’t be surprised. This will make for great entertainment, watching us work together only to tear each other apart in the end.
Because it was too easy, despite how very difficult it was to reach the top of Plummet. And I should know by now that there is always a catch, always a price. My own father taught me that.
We all stare at each other, eyes shifting between our competition and the ragged flag that has suddenly become so vital to our victory.
And then we turn on one another.
Chaos.
Chapter Forty-Three
Paedyn
Darkness and destruction are all I know. The two groups crash together, powers clashing, shouts cutting through the night. But when my eyes find his in the dim light, I don’t hesitate before my fist collides with his jaw.
Ace stumbles back, stunned by the force and fury I packed into the punch. I smile at the sight. I’ve been itching to do that all day. Every day.
The fight around us falls away. All I see is him and the red blurring my vision, the cause of both blood and rage morphing together.
I’m going to kill him.
My foot sinks into his stomach, forcing the air from his lungs before I throw a jab at his nose, feeling it crack with sickening delight. My body is my only weapon. I have no knives, no bow, no swords to hide behind. But I wouldn’t have it any other way. I want to do this with my bare hands.
I’m almost impressed by how twisted and talented the king is at putting on a show. He knew that we went into this Trial hoping to get revenge and instead told us to work together. So our enemies became our teammates. But now, the king is giving us and the people what they want.
We are tearing each other apart.
Ace has finally caught his breath, panting as he smirks up at me, hands resting on his knees. “Oh, you’ve just been waiting to do that, haven’t you?”
“Ever since that coach ride to the castle, actually,” I say, remembering how I disliked him even then, even before he attempted to kill me. Twice.
“Well, I’ve never really liked you much either,” he spits as blood streams from his nose and drips down to his chin. I move, aiming to send a kick cracking into his temple, but I’m suddenly shrouded in darkness. It’s as though he’s thrown a heavy blanket over my head, smothering the light around me.
Now I’m angry and annoyed.
But I know how this game works and wave my arms, taking a few steps forward. The illusion pulls apart, and like smoke, the darkness blows away on the wind. I blink, eyes adjusting as I try to find Ace in the commotion.
And then I’m choking.
The air is being cut off from my lungs, my windpipe being crushed. A hard, rough object is pressed against my throat, forcing me to gasp as I try to gulp down air. I claw at the thing pressing against my neck, the thing separating me from life and death.
I kick at Ace behind me, twisting and fighting to slip out of his hold. Rough bark is biting into my nails as I tear at it, trying to rid myself of its choking hold on me. I’m being strangled with a stick.
A stick.
My vision is spotting, the wound on my head throbbing, my lungs screaming for air.
No. Not today. Death can claim me when it finds a less pathetic way to end my existence.
I still my frantic hands and stop struggling, willing myself to slump, to sag, to stop looking like I’m alive and seething with anger. I let my knees buckle, the branch sliding from my neck as I crumble to the ground.
“Never forget that your wit is a weapon to be wielded if only your mind is as sharp as your blade.”
My father’s words echo in my head, reminding me that not all battles are won with brawn. So I’ll win this one with brains.
My limbs are a tangled mess in the dirt, and my head has landed painfully on a jagged rock. But I can breathe again. Barely. I force myself to take shallow breaths, willing my attacker to step closer and finish the job.
Boots crunch over loose rocks before a body crouches over my limp one. A deep, labored sigh washes over me and the faintest brush of fingers over my brow nearly makes me flinch.
“Such a shame that the pretty ones are always bitches.” Ace tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, almost gently. It makes me sick. “Such a shame. Such a waste.”
His hand begins to pull back and I know I need to act. My eyes fly open and his do the same as he looks at me, shocked. He’s crouched over my body, one of his hands caught in my own, and the other clutching a rock only slightly smaller than the size of my head.
He was going to bash my skull in.
In one quick movement, I twist his arm at an odd angle, hearing the bone snap and a scream tear from his throat. I lift my legs and push my feet against his chest, throwing him sideways with a powerful push. He’s thrown onto his back beside me, the rock tumbling from his hand.