“Good luck out there,” I tell him, and I mean it, I do. He needs his revenge. I need the estate.
“Can I have a minute of your time?” he requests.
I look to Demi as someone elbows me in the back. The goddess shakes her head in irritation. “Will you be all right?” she asks me.
I nod. “I’ll come find you.”
With a final scowl of warning to the East Wind, Demi ventures down the corridor toward the stands. Once out of sight, his hood snaps toward me. “You need to come with me.”
“What?”
The horde thickens, forcing me into his chest. His arms wrap around my back; my palms land on his chest. When I attempt to retreat, I find my way blocked by the rambunctious crowd.
The East Wind loosens his arms, but doesn’t drop them completely. I am still sheltered for a while longer. “They informed us last night,” he explains. “We each require a teammate in the second trial. Otherwise, we forfeit.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying you’re competing with me.”
My mind has frozen. His words skate over its surface. “That’s not funny,” I croak.
“It wasn’t meant to be.”
“I can’t go in th-there.” I spin around, but Demi has since vanished. “If you chose someone else—”
“I can’t trust anyone else!”
As he peers down at me, I’ve the absurd notion to cover my heart. I am too exposed beneath this immortal’s scrutiny. “It must be you, bird.”
A sudden wave of dizziness drags at me. I sway. “But—”
“We don’t have time,” he presses. “We need to get to the field before the trial begins.”
“Have you forgotten that I’m m-m-mortal?” I manage, each word a rumpled wheeze. “I’ll die!”
“You won’t.” In this, he is absolute. “I will not allow it.”
My throat stings with the rise of bile. I’m going to vomit. “How are y-you supposed to protect yourself and m-me at the same t-t-time?”
“Listen to me, bird.” Catching my jaw, he gently tilts it upward. The roiling of my stomach settles as the press of his fingertips warms my chilled skin. “Only twelve contestants move on to the third trial. We need to be in the top three. The higher we place, the more of an advantage we have in the final trial. Understood?”
I jerk free of his hold. His hand hangs there momentarily before dropping to his side, fingers still curled, as though preserving the shape of my face. “I’m not like y-you,” I say. “I’m not all powerful.”
“You have power, too, in your own way.”
And what power is that, exactly? The power to cower and hide? To sidestep, never facing anything head on? To continually lie to myself about who I am and what I want? The East Wind expects nothing short of a miracle. Whether by arrow or ax, sword or knife, I will surely fall.
“Don’t think about what people expect of you,” Eurus says. “Think of what you want—then claim it for yourself.”
“Competitors, please take your marks!”
I glance down. My poor, battered loafers. If I knew I’d be competing in the tournament, I’d have worn sturdier footwear.
“Please, bird… Min.” The East Wind’s voice deepens, becomes that sound I first heard through the steel door of his cell, an abrasive rasp that at times felt like a physical touch. My belly quivers; my breasts peak. I hurriedly cross my arms over my chest, eyes wide at my reaction to his proximity. “I need you. Not Demi, not anyone else. Just you.” He hesitates, then drags a fingertip down my right cheek. “I have not forgotten my promise to return you home.”
Think of what you want—then claim it for yourself.
In this moment, I am not thinking of St. Laurent, or Lady Clarisse, or the estate, or Nan. I am looking at the East Wind, and I am thinking that he smells so acutely of the sea… and I am not afraid.
