Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 117246 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 586(@200wpm)___ 469(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 117246 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 586(@200wpm)___ 469(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
Jericho began to breathe heavily. Beads of sweat trickled over his face.
As confident as Roman, Lark put her nose in the air. “I’m Lady Lark Foster, future archduchess. First fact, I don’t need you or anyone to protect me. Second, I’m not interested in dating you. I should be our representative because I’m good at keeping egotistical soldiers in check.”
“Consider my protection a bonus, since you’re preobsessed with me and all.” Roman spread his arms, unaffected by her rejection. Playful and yet still so, well, soldiery. “And I hate to point this out, honey, but you didn’t keep me in check.” He winced for her. “You followed my instructions.”
Lark blinked as she realized the truth of his words. Scowling, she shot him.
Laughing, he plucked out the dart as if it were nothing. “So you need a little more time to come to terms with our powerful connection. Noted.”
The object of his fascination huffed and puffed, but she didn’t shoot him again.
Whoosh. The guy on my right took his shot, a dart flying.
With a slight twist, Roman avoided a second hit. He didn’t turn away from Lark but raised his weapon and fired, nailing his would-be assailant in the throat. While I marveled at his skill, he winked.
Trigger Happy muttered something just before he wobbled and stumbled out of bounds. Disqualified. One down, seventeen to go.
“Please, go on.” Roman waved in Lark’s direction. “You were saying you don’t need a big, tough rescuer in your corner, but maybe suddenly you’ve realized you want one?”
“Nah,” she said, blowing him a kiss with her middle finger. “I’m good.”
“Very good,” he agreed.
I almost couldn’t process what was happening, my anxiety a wildfire and an ice storm at once, yet those two were flirting.
Amid my haze of shock, I missed the ensuing flood of names and information. At least until a guy barked a laugh and said, “Parents, man. They can be the worst. Do you think pre-Fall kids had such ridiculous names?”
Four people shot him without hesitation. Two of the projectiles landed. Screaming, he pitched backward, out of bounds. He lay sprawled on the floor, with white foam dripping from his mouth.
Three teammates eliminated themselves—none of whom were his shooters.
If I could have moved, I would’ve joined them. My feet had morphed into boulders, keeping me captive as the victim gasped for breath he couldn’t catch. Two medics rushed to treat him. It wasn’t long before he sat up with a groan and a glaze of pain in his eyes. Cheers resounded as the medics helped him rise and lumber to a table.
“I didn’t say stop,” the HP said, merciless, and my bones quaked. “Continue.”
A new round of names and facts kicked off, blurring together. In the chaos, I retained only Juniper, Miller, and Titus.
Titus was tall and unassuming, but he glared at Roman, ready for battle. “I have no need to sell myself to you or anyone.”
Expecting an immediate shoot-out, I froze. When Roman continued making eyes at Lark, ignoring Titus, I sighed with relief and tried to listen to the next onslaught of information. Did I retain anything new? No. Soon I would be forced to speak and—
Every eye landed on me. My stomach churned. My turn had arrived.
“H-hi. I’m Arden. Lady Arden Roosa.” The gun nearly slipped from my dampening grip. I can do this. “I don’t think we should harm each other. We’re a team, or at least we’re going to be. Plus, we’re being graded.” Warming up to my stance, I gave a firm nod. “If we put down our weapons, we can—” A sharp sting pierced just below my collarbone.
I sucked air between my teeth. Searing agony consumed me in an instant, penetrating to my very marrow. Tears welled, screams barreling up my throat only to die on my tongue, unheard as my mind caught fire. Beads of sweat trickled down my temples.
Do not fall! Both the HP and Shiloh were witnessing my reaction. If I lost this early, I’d be forever humiliated.
Trembling, I yanked out the projectile. And yet the excruciating pain only magnified. I nearly whimpered. Needing an anchor, I focused on—no! But it was too late. The HP didn’t notice me, thank goodness. He was completely at ease, busy selecting a new dessert. I turned my attention to Shiloh. He gripped the edge of his table, ready to leap out of his chair to come get me. His eyes chanted, Tap out, tap out, tap out.
Forget the humiliation aspect. I’d finally get to taste figs and apples. But . . .
Drawn by a magnetic force, I returned my attention to the high prince. He settled back in his chair and met my gaze, as if he’d never lost focus of my plight. The intensity of his expression somehow cooled and heated the blood in my veins simultaneously. His eyes said, Are you a top lady or not?