Total pages in book: 131
Estimated words: 121924 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121924 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
Gaping, he rapidly blinked. “You can’t honestly think that I tried to kill you.”
I felt my lips peel back in disgust. “Don’t act as if my life means anything to you.”
“It doesn’t—I’ll admit that. But I don’t consider you worth dying for. That’s what would have happened to me if I’d tried to kill you. Does it really make sense to you that I’d risk that?”
“No, but you’re you,” I said, my tone scathing. “Someone who does dumb, inadvisable shit all the time.”
An amused snort rang out.
Something sour briefly flashed in Atticus’ eyes as his face turned red and mottled. “I didn’t drop you on purpose. I tried hard to save you.” He sent his cousin a beseeching look. “Right?”
Clearing his throat, Bevan rubbed at his nape. “He did do his best to help, though I’m sure we all know that it wasn’t for your sake but because he’d have otherwise been reprimanded.”
Atticus gifted me a smug glance. “See?”
Talon looked at Seneca and flicked up a questioning brow.
“My brother did not let her fall on purpose,” she maintained.
Other nearby candidates gave various answers …
It did look as though Atticus was trying hard to save her.
I couldn’t see anything from where I stood, so I don’t know.
I wouldn’t trust Atticus to want to help Anara, but he’d do it to save his own skin—letting her fall in front of witnesses would be risky.
Once the questioning was over, I took in the expressions of those around me—all ranged from blank to uncertain to awkward. Nobody appeared one-hundred percent convinced of my claims, not even Quillen.
Not even Talon. His face was carefully blank.
That some of these people would believe Atticus over me … it was a stinging slap. I dragged in a hurt breath and held it, enraged tears I’d never shed burning the backs of my eyes.
I was dumb to have expected anything else, though, right? I was mortal. They were godkin. Of course they’d stick together.
Atticus gave me a sympathetic smile. “I think you must have just hit your head real hard and are now a little confused.”
I felt the skin of my face stretch into a snarl as a renewed sense of fury stormed my system like a stampede of beasts. Intense. Blinding. Feverish.
It bashed at my control. And now I could hear a thrashing in my ears. Could feel my heart slamming against my ribs. Could feel my fingers contracting like claws.
Seneca slipped in front of him protectively and then came toward me. “I get that you had a scare and might like to direct your anger on someone, but your fall was an accident. Atticus didn’t—”
“Get the fuck away from me,” I gritted out, my voice unnaturally deep, cold, and nothing like my own.
Her bravado shrunk right there in front of me as her eyes went wide. She staggered backwards, almost bumping into Atticus.
Air sawed in and out of my lungs as I stood there drowning in dark emotions so thick I could suffocate on them. Pain, anger, bitterness—it all blended. Blended and clashed with the ichor that had taken residence within me.
Something crawled through my veins—hot, crackly, other.
Several pairs of eyes dropped to my hands, and then people were backing away. I peered down to see moonlight-colored sparks skipping along my palms … and embers of ash swirling around my hands.
A pinch of wonder settled in my chest, but it had no way to take hold of my mood—rage clouded my vision, my thoughts, my logic.
Gods, I wanted to make him hurt. I craved the release that the attack would give me; needed to expel every bit of fury from my system before it erupted out of me in a feral scream.
I zeroed in on him with lethal focus as the steaming hot ashes gathering into orbs. I narrowed my eyes, ready and raring to hurl them right at his face.
A thread of reason broke through the haze, and then I saw it. Saw it all play out in my mind’s eye … I’d hurl the orbs. Talon would subdue me in a flash. Ajax would shove Atticus out of harm’s way. The orbs would miss their target.
And then I’d be executed like Klemens for attempting to kill a fellow candidate.
The bastard’s not worth that.
No. No, he wasn’t. And he’d just love if I tried to attack him. He would love for me to suffer the consequences.
Fuck. That.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I dropped my head. I fought to get a hold on my emotions, fought to grapple them into submission. But they were just so hot, so fierce.
Unable to kill the tremors racking my body, I stubbornly continued to wage war against the storm inside me. My head pounded with the effort, and my chest heaved with every ragged breath.
Eventually, I felt my palms cool. Felt the tickles of sparks disappear. Felt the orbs disintegrate. But I wasn’t yet in a good inner place.