“An Essentari,” Char finishes for him. His eyes are wide, his mouth slightly agape.
My mind barely registers the word.
An Essentari?
I can’t be. I can’t, but then the flames around me expand even more.
They’re all I hear. All I smell.All I am.
“Drop the glass,” I say to Norin, who’s also looking a bit pale. I’m not in control of myself, and by the look on his face, he knowsit. “Drop the glass,” I repeat, and as I do, the flames shoot forward, scorching his shoes.
He removes his weapon from Char’s neck, but he doesn’t let the broken shard go.
Instead, he waves it at me. “You’re dead. You hear? Dead.” He takes off, fleeing in the direction of the market.
The rest of the men follow, not bothering to check on the one I’d stabbed. The one who’sstillbreathing. The one who’s stillalive.
But why would they try to save him? Leaving him behind means they’ll have one less competitor in the arena.
Thanks to me.
My chest aches. My whole bodyaches.The feeling is so sudden, so violent, and utterly overwhelming that I scream again, and when I can’t see a single one of them anymore, I drop to the ground, and the world fades away.
Chapter 3
Serafina
I’m being carried. Strong arms are firmly wrapped around me, hugging me into a warm chest. A chest that smells of hazelnuts and honey. A scent I’ve loved since I was seven years old.
Char.
My eyes blink open. His sharp jaw hovers over me as his legs move one after the other, causing me to gently bob up and down.
Char.
He doesn’t see that I’m awake.
“Char,” I finally say his name out loud, but it comes out as barely a whisper, barely a breath, but he stills all the same. His footsteps come to a halt, but he doesn’t look at me. “Char.” Ibrush my fingers against his lightly stubbled cheek. Pain shoots through my arm, so much so that I almost miss how he shivers at the contact. “Char, what’s wrong?”
He turns his head, so he’s looking down at me. His breathing is heavy as he sets me on the ground.
I know we’re not far from people anymore. I can hear voices coming from the end of the street. He must have been carrying me for a while.
“What’s wrong?Are you serious, Serafina?”
The way he says my name jars me, like a slap to the face, the sting so unexpected it takes me a while to process his question.
“Well, I mean, I knowwhat’swrong. We were just attacked by those fuckingdogs, but—”
“Just attacked?That’swhat you think is wrong?” His fingers find his hair, and he pulls. “How long have you known?” His question throws me because how could I have possibly known that they were following me? Following us? “How long have you known, Serafina?”
I shake my head, still confused by his words. “Stop calling me that,” I snap because he never uses my full name, and he’s saying it like it’s a slur, like he’s disgusted.
“Serafina?” he questions. “It’s your name, so why wouldn’t I call you it?”
“Because you don’t call me Serafina. To you, I’m Fi. I’ve always been Fi.” My voice is weak, and I hate it. I hate it because it confirms everything I know he already thinks about me.
I am not strong, I am not capable, and I will not survive.
