“Is that allowed?” I ask.
Ciara breathes, her grip on my hand tightening. I hold my breath as both men plunge into the icy water below. Moments later, they both resurface, and with a swing, Anders lands a powerful blow directly on the attacker’s nose. I don’t have to hear the crunch to know it’s broken. Rivulets of crimson splash into the water. Anders doesn’t waste a moment, already evading another attack as he pulls himself to shore.
“Yep,” Kamden says. “Totally legal.”
Anders makes quick work of navigating the boulder and a series of obstacles before diving straight into the water ring filled with bladefish. I wince, watching the fish surround him, but he doesn’t slow.
Meanwhile, Cole and Orion keep their defenders occupied, each move calculated as they maneuver closer to the groundball goal. The opposing team’s goalie stands oblivious to Anders’ approach.
Anders slips quietly from the water while the goalie’s back is turned and sprints toward the goal. He’s nowhere near close enough when he winds back his arm and, with a release, sends the AerBall slingshotting through the air.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, I know I’m squeezing Ciara’s hand so tightly my knuckles are most likely white, but she doesn’t flinch or complain. The next heartbeat propels me to my feet as I leapup and down in unadulterated joy, squealing like a silly schoolgirl as the AerBall hits the back of the net.
“Oh my gods,” I laugh, brushing my hands through my wild hair. “This is incredible!”
Aolyn raises an eyebrow at me, a knowing smile crossing her lips as if she knows who, not what, has my heartbeat thumping erratically.
Come the third period, our team looks so exhausted; I fear all it would take is a single gust of wind to bring them down. This game was supposed to be an easy win, or so I’ve been told. Unfortunately, Wildwood Academy appears to have traded its players for larger opponents. Our team has been pushed to their limits, both physically and mentally, and I’m not sure they have another twenty minutes in them.
As I scan the player’s box, every team member is sprawled out across benches or the floor in various states of recovery—a few with lesser injuries are leaning heavily on the railings. Others use equipment bags as pillows while nursing a type of energizing drink. Coach Beck stands by, trying his best to revitalize the team and rally them back into the rings, but even his motivational words can’t rouse them.
I nibble anxiously on my lip, my leg bouncing wildly as I watch Anders wrap his bleeding arm. I just learned that the healers aren’t allowed to touch the players until the end of the game or unless they’re being pulled from the game due to an injury.
“Who’s on defense this period?” Kamden asks Aolyn, studying our team just as intensely. The music echoing through the arena keeps a positive energy flowing, but I can’t help but feel exhausted for them.
With only two minutes until they’re back out in the arena, eight players begin to rise, their movements sluggish.
“Mac was injured last period, but they wrapped his ankle. He should be good to go,” Aolyn responds. Ciara and Tate return to our row with refreshments and snacks. My mouth waters at the scent of honey rolls.
“No, I have a feeling they’ll put him as a guardian. My guess is Brecken and Trysten will remain on defense, Morris in goal. They’re our best hope,” Kamden volleys back.
Tate leans forward, looking past Ciara and me. “What about the guy with the birthmark on his cheek?” he asks. “He looks like he could even take down Ryker.”
All of our heads swivel his way, Aolyn and Kamden nodding their agreement, but I have to swallow down my words, for some reason feeling the need to defend Anders.
“That’s Elis,” Kamden responds with a grin. “He’s got great potential, but he’s new talent. Morris and Brecken have the experience we need right now.”
The loud buzz of the horn cuts through the air, charging the atmosphere once again as enthusiastic fans erupt in cheers. Anders’ little fangirl group even has a stupid chant of their own, grating on every nerve ending I have.
"Ryker, Ryker, he's our guy. He’s the one who makes you cry.”
Standing on the island, Anders exchanges a brief glance with Kalli, the spy for this period, before his gaze moves to mine.
My heart threatens to stop when I finally take in the bruise blooming over his eye and the split lip.Gods, how does he do this?Something passes between us, my worry for him bringing a small smile to his lips just before he refocuses in time for the horn to signal the start of the match.
Anders springs into action, retrieving both balls from the bunker in a swift movement, quickly sprinting back towards Cole and Orion, who look like they’re using every ounce of energy just to remain standing.
Anders dives into the ice water ring, swimming for the obstacle ring when one of Wildwood’s players lunges forward, tackling Cole from behind just as Anders pulls himself from the water. There’s a collective gasp in the crowd, all of us holding our breath as the arena falls silent, watching and waiting for Cole to resurface.
Moments stretch into what feels like minutes, each building the anxiety in the air. Anders dives back into the water when Cole doesn’tresurface, diving deep and disappearing from sight. I can feel Aolyn’s reassuring grip on my right hand, clutching me tightly. Ciara’s hand anchors me around the waist as we wait, our breaths becoming shallower every second.
It’s a small eternity before Anders resurfaces; his expression is a mixture of urgency and worry. He’s clutching an unconscious Cole in his arms, and time seems to freeze as I gasp, the world around me blurring as I fight a flurry of tears.
“Please be alright,” I whisper to myself, repeating the prayer over and over. I may not be close with Cole, but I care about him. A single tear brims, tracking down my cheek.
Orion and Anders pull Cole from the water, laying him on the shore. The game is paused as the medical bridge extends slowly toward the center of the arena.
Anders kneels beside Cole, his fingers probing for a pulse. A moment later, he slaps Cole’s face, urging him to wake up as his eyes grow frantic. A stream of crimson spills across Cole’s forehead from a deep gash, making my heart plummet and sending a chill through me.
