Total pages in book: 214
Estimated words: 195876 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 979(@200wpm)___ 784(@250wpm)___ 653(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 195876 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 979(@200wpm)___ 784(@250wpm)___ 653(@300wpm)
"You knew?" I ask.
His eyes fall. "The Crucible is a poorly kept secret in some circles. But yes. Groups of five. That means you, Mireen, Beck, and Ambrose will probably talk about recruiting a fifth. But don't do it."
"Why, because of the siphon? Don't you think that's a little paranoid? If this siphon has been on campus all year, they could've killed me a dozen times over by now."
"We can't pretend to understand why they're here. Unless we know the 'why', we can't assume you're safe from them."
I tilt my head. "All of this… following me around campus and lurking in the shadows. Helping me train weapons… Telling me about the siphon… is it all just because of what happened on Confluence Day? Am I really supposed to believe that?"
If eyes are windows to the soul, Raith's are blacked out and covered by thick curtains. He blinks, then grips my arm softly. "I would tell you more if I knew it wouldn’t put you in danger. I mean that," Raith says, his tone hard. "Malakai will come for your team during the Crucible. You can be sure of that." He speaks like it's a simple warning, but I can feel the concern beneath it.
And then he's gone, fading into the dark shadows of the corridor ahead and leaving me with the warmth of his power still swirling inside my body like embers nestled beneath my skin. That, and about a thousand questions.
Raith speaks with absolute certainty about things no former offering should know. Each revelation only deepens the questions of who he really is—and why he's chosen to share these secrets with me.
I should be terrified of all the things he won’t tell me.
Instead, as I watch his shadow disappear around the corner, I realize something that scares me far more than siphons or the coming Crucible.
I'm falling for him. I'm falling for someone who is desperately trying to tell me not to—to warn me that he's dangerous. I can try to grip tightly to those warnings like handholds, clinging to them like lifelines. But I'm still slipping toward the edge and toward the point of no return little by little.
Gods help me. Every instinct I have is telling me not to. Even Raith himself seems to be telling me not to. But I’m still falling for Raith fucking Hollow.
20
Titus circles me with a huge two-handed sword held at the ready. Like all our training weapons, it's blunted, but given that it’s at least three pounds of steel, I doubt it matters. Titus is one of Malakai's elites, and I'm sure he would be willing to suffer any punishment for "accidentally" killing or maiming me.
Surviving Confluence Day earned us some protections, but the threat of death only dropped to a low, haunting whisper instead of a deafening scream. It never really leaves, and with the Crucible coming, everybody feels it more now. It’s the warm, rancid breath of a predator breathing down our necks.
This is basic weapons training, and we're not supposed to channel. I still keep my mind on high alert, just in case Titus decides to cheat. If he does, I'll be ready.
For now, I keep circling him on the raised stone platform, rapier pointed at his throat. Raith taught me to watch the feet and the hips of my opponent, so that's where my eyes stay.
Titus coils slightly on his back leg and my instincts tingle with warning before my brain can even process what's happening. I'm already shifting to my side, ducking the overhead strike that's about to come.
His sword whistles past me, clattering against stone hard enough to fire off sparks.
I move to step inside his guard and press my blade to his throat, but he savagely yanks his elbow backward, smashing into my temple and sending me toppling sideways.
The blow makes sparks fly across my vision and my head spin. An immediate, sharp throbbing erupts in my head.
Shit.
He's fast. We all are now, but he's also twice my size.
I roll, dodging another strike, then another. I barely get back to my feet, breaths coming in raw gasps already. I'm starting to become numb to danger, but I can feel a sudden jab of terror leaking up through my walls like ice water flooding into a sinking ship.
Come on, Nessa.
Distantly, I can sense others finishing their matches and gathering to watch us. Most weapons fights are over quickly. The other affinities are finishing up, too, along with Raith, who was first to win his match and is already on his way toward us. Even with Raith coming, I force myself to refocus on Titus. Distraction now could be fatal.
"Come on, Nessa," Beck calls. "Go for his balls. Small targets, I know, but you can—"
Beck's voice fades to background noise as I barely lean back, dodging the tip of Titus' sword before it can split my face horizontally.