One side of his mouth kicks up. “You could have killed me, but you didn’t.”
And clearly he thinks that now makes us friends. Either that, or he’s basking in the fact that he’s still breathing.
“Would you have killed me?” I’m genuinely curious, and Maximus turns to face me.
“I don’t know,” he admits.
I nod, stumbling as my own blood loss begins to take effect. “And what will you do now?”
“Return home in disgrace. Train some more. Try again.”
I gape at him, and he laughs, throwing his arm around my shoulders. Since he can barely walk, and his thigh is pouring blood, I allow it.
He’s lucky I didn’t sever his femoral. I know exactly where it is.
I’ve known where it is since I was five years old and watched my aunt bleed out in front of me.
“This is what I want,” he says, his voice tight with pain. “It’s what I’ve always wanted. You don’t want it as much. But when you’re out there in the sand, you want tolive, and that’s enough. Maybe I’ll see you next season and you can give me tips on how to make it through.”
I frown. “You don’t think I’m going to make it through.”
“Ididn’t,” he admits. “But you’re vicious and clever. Every now and then, courage and brains will beat raw strength.”
Healers rush toward us, but an enforcer calls a name, and I turn, stumbling back toward the arena.
“What are you doing?” Maximus asks as the healers reach for him.
“Maeva. It’s Maeva.”
She steps into the arena like she owns it, head high. But her expression screams fear—her mouth tight, eyes huge.
She’s up against Norin—a breathtakingly fast sigilmarked from the region of Valerim—known for breeding warriors.
The size difference between them is almost comical, but the crowd seems to like it, screaming and jeering.
Maeva swings her sword, warming up her wrist, and Norin lumbers toward her.
“Fight!” the guard calls.
Kassia’s eyes, turning blank, lifeless.
I stagger, turning from the arena. When one of the healers takes my arm, I let them lead me away.
EVERYTHING HURTS.
I suck in a sharp breath, the medicinal scent of salves and balms mingling with the fresh linen of the sheet beneath my face.
I’m lying in the healers’ quarters, my tunic raised up to my neck while Axia works on the deep slice in my back. When she’s finally done, she pushes a tonic into my hand and chants over the rest of my cuts and bruises.
I gulp down the tonic, thankful she gave it a faint citrus taste.
“Your body will prioritize your larger wounds, which means you’ll likely still hurt for a couple of days,” she says. “Now let me look at your ankle.” Her voice trails off and she bows her head as Tiernon steps into the room.
I bristle. “What are you doing here?”
He gives me a dismissive look. The kind of look heknowswill infuriate me.
“What’s wrong with her ankle?” he asks Axia.
