Everett isn't far behind. Ice spreads from each footstep he takes as he backs away from our enemies while keeping an eye on them. They're regrouping, too. This tiny lull in the fight must mean that our quintets are somewhat evenly matched.
But only because Baelfire is hindered, and I was tempering myself.
It's time to fucking change that.
"Heal him," I demand, standing.
Silas reaches for me, his brow deeply furrowed, but I push his hand away and give him the withering glare I perfected in Amadeus's arena.
"I said watch his back. I said they'd go for him. You didn't listen, but now I'm fucking telling you toheal himbefore he dies of blood loss. And don'tyoudare get in my way," I snap at Everett.
I stalk past them and directly into the miniature stalemate between quintets. Everett shouts my name, but I tune him out. I tune everything out and focus on the five assholes who just tried to kill my dragon shifter.
They have no idea what they just pissed off, but they're about to find out.
The caster who hit Baelfire with the silverblend spell sneers at me. "Offering yourself up as a sacrifice to win our mercy, Oakley? Too bad this isn't even a fair fight. Our keeper is going to rip you to shreds."
Almost like they coordinated it, Brooks the tiger roars and leaps toward me. When he does, I let my instincts and training kick in. As always, during a fight, my senses sharpen almost to the point of pain. Everything seems to slow down.
Calling on the magic rushing eagerly inside me, I grab the tiger by the throat midair and twist, slamming him into the forest floor using his momentum and the unnatural strength I'm always so careful to hide.
Before he can do anything but snarl, dark magic flares around my fingertips before I plunge my hand through his rib cage, grab his heart, and rip it out. The tiger shifter goes slack as I turn back to the others and toss their keeper's heart aside, the hum of a fresh kill flooding me with pure, thrilling adrenaline.
The more lives I take in a fight, the more the urge to kill grows into a fever pitch and takes over. It's been that way ever since I was turned into this. Lillian was the one who always brought me back if I lost control, but now...
I hope I can keep myself in check while I end these idiots. Otherwise, I'll be a mindless, blood-crazed weapon until I'm killed and revived.
Either way, what fun.
The rival quintet is shocked by how quickly I just snuffed out their chance at a curse-less future. I smile and twiddle my bloodied fingers at them before flipping them off.
"You're right. This isn't a fair fight at all."
19
BAELFIRE
When I waseleven years old, my older brother Aidan was accidentally hit by a silverblend spell while serving at the Divide. He got an emergency magical transport back home, and I couldn't even recognize him under all the gore.
I'd asked my caster dad if Aidan was going to die, and he had quietly admitted it was very possible. All night long, I'd heard my brother's bloodcurdling screaming as they had to dig tiny pieces of silver shrapnel out of his entire body.
Turns out, he was handling it like a fucking champ. Kudos to him.
Becauseholy motherfucking hell, this hurts.
I'm starting to lose consciousness, probably because I'm leaking blood like a faucet. But I fight against blacking out because, as far as I know, we're still under attack, and that means I need to make sure Maven is safe. I just have to get through this searing agony and ignore my inner dragon, who's throwing a fit inside my head with no possible way of getting out to get revenge.
I guess I should be grateful that Silas is some kind of prodigy because suddenly, all the silver puncturing my skin startsvibrating. I blink my eyes open and vaguely make out that he's crouched beside me, his brow beading with sweat as he chants some shit I can't understand and makes a weird-ass shape with his hand.
There's a moment where, against all possibility, the agony gets evenworse,as if the metal is reshaping itself inside my skin—and then hundreds of silver needles slide out of my skin and drop to the forest floor.
The moment the silver is out, I gasp with relief as my body starts to mend. Thanks to my weakened state, it's far slower than usual, but I'll take it. After several seconds, I prop myself up on one arm, wiping blood off my face and panting as I try to get over that traumatizing little brush with death I just had.
Everett is also next to us. What the fuck? Why isn't he fighting? Then I realize that both of their gazes are glued to something nearby.
When I crane my neck to see what's going on, I nearly have a heart attack.
Maven is dancing.
