“I’ve seen how uncontrollably angry you become whenever Byron looks twice at another girl. It’s as plain as day to me, you just don’t want to admit that you don’t actually hate him. That the intense feeling you have welling up inside of you when it comes to that boy is love.”
I lean away from him, but Marvin presses a hand over mine. “I don’t blame you, Willow. You’ve always been a loner. You like other people, and they like you, but have you ever truly experienced real unconditionallove? Because that’s certainly not something that your parents ever taught you, or any single member of Woodsbury. Sure, they took care of you, but no single soul took you in. My father should have adopted you, I wanted him too. Maybe, then you would have understood that side of your feelings.”
I shove my apple into his hand since I know that he will at least make sure it doesn’t go to waste and push to my feet, moving away from him. “You’re speaking nonsense. You’re lucky you’re not a fae or else I would demand that you never lie again as recompense for this untruth.”
He shakes his head with a small chuckle. “Oh, Willow, stubborn till the last.”
I stride past him and do a backwards handstand. “You should be more focused on the upcoming mock battle than my affairs,” I grumble, sending him an upside-down glare.
“Oh, I’m not worried. I know I won’t win, and I intend to surrender pretty early on to save myself some unnecessary pain. There will always be the next mock battle. But that’s not a concept you understand, is it?” Marvin takes a bite from his apple. “Because you will never give in, even if it kills you.”
Chapter Seventeen
Myheartisbeatingso fast and so loudly in my ears that it nearly drowns out all other sounds around me. I take a deep breath, vainly attempting to calm my nerves as I step into the wide circular chamber where the mock battles are to be held, and immediately regret every choice I’ve ever made.
Because standing right there, entering the chamber from the other end of the hall is Byron. At the sight of him, all reasonable thought flees my mind, replaced only by panic. Blind and sheer panic that it takes me seeing Chastmir to remember that for this battle the women and men are separated and will only be fighting their own gender.
Byron will just be fighting his opponent at the same time as me, not us two having to go up against each other, but still the timing couldn’t be more disastrous. How am I supposed to focus on my own fight with him right there?
I give myself a little shake as I look up into the booths built into the walls where the fae lords and teachers here at the academy are watching from. It takes a short scan for me to find the one that Menavillion is sitting in. He has Istaria at his right and standing behind them both is that silent golden knight who I hope someday to work closely with.
I flick my eyes down, determining to focus solely on that and not what is happening on the other platform. I climb onto one across from Chastmir, I wonder if I’m supposed to bow or do something else to acknowledge the rivalry, but she just lowers herself, bracing her legs into a fighting stance. I give my roommate a once over, taking in her honed muscular arms and tightly coiled golden hair and determine that this girl knows her fighting. She’s probably been practicing while I’ve been spending my time fretting. I exhale a small breath and bend my knees, bracing my legs and get ready to fight for my life. However, just then the platform shifts under my feet. I glance down to see that it has broken away from the rest of the floor. I glance up at Chastmir, but she doesn’t seem phased in the least as we lift into the sky. A quick peek to my right shows that the platform the boys are on is also rising. They both stop when they reach halfway up the room.
I’m so stunned that I nearly miss the gong that sounds signifying that the mock battle has begun. Chastmir lets out a cry which is more than a little intimidating as she races toward me. My eyes widen, and I duck from under her sweeping arms. Up this close, I realize that Chastmir ismuchtaller than I had expected. Given her golden hair and muscular physic I would venture that she is from the northern islands across the sea from Commonweald. People from those islands are renown for their fierceness in battle.
Which is all stuff that I should have planned for.
Iwouldhave planned for if only my head had been clearer. I duck again, doing a flip and swinging my legs up nailing a kick on Chastmir. It staggers her but not nearly as much as I would have liked. I chance a glance over my shoulder to see if Menavillion noticed how nimble I was, but stall when I see that he is leaning over talking to Istaria, not paying the least amount of attention to the mock battle. Indeed, the only one in his box who seems to care the least about what is going on is the golden knight, and he is looking toward Byron’s platform.
I see a flash out of the corner of my eye and whip my head around, as I realize that I allowed my focus to slip for too long. I try to dodge, but it’s too late. Chastmir pounces on me, her hand wrapping around the front of my shirt. I feel my eyes widen as with a roar she deadlifts me. My feet grapple for the ground as she turns and heaves me to the side. I go flying through the air. My hand reaches out, but I can’t get a purchase on the platform and only wind up scraping up my forearm before I go flying off.
I gasp out as open air welcomes me and then I go plummeting over the distance at the end of the platform. I have only a second as I fall through the air to reconsider all the life decisions that got me to this point before I land hard on the ground, a crack going through my back. I struggle to inhale, but no breath enters my lungs as I lie there gasping like a fish that has been removed from the water.
Overhead, I see Byron poke his head over the side of the platform where his own fight is taking place. His eyes dart across the floor until they lock on mine, scanning me over as if to assess if I’m all right, but just then a fist flies into his face while his head is turned, and he goes plummeting off his own platform.
I gasp, feeling the wind shift as Byron lands with a crash near me. I get up, with some struggle and drag myself toward him, grimacing as all the bones and muscles in my body protest the movement.
He’s already on his elbow, reaching toward me. “Are you all right?” he croaks out. I grimace but manage a nod.
“I was about to ask you the same thing,” my voice is airy, and I think that talking might have been a bad idea because I can’t draw enough air into my lungs to refill them.
I lay my head down as a voice booms out. “And we have this round’s winners, Chastmir and Wilson!”
“I think I’ll just lay here for a second,” I murmur, disappointment welling up in my heart. I failed my first mock battle, and the fact that Byron did so too is no consolation. It should be, but I can’t force myself to celebrate that small victory. Not when the first feeling that surged through me when he fell from that platform was an overwhelming concern for his well-being.
Byron nods as he lays his head down, his eyes locked on mine. “Yeah, me too.”
Chapter Eighteen
“Thatlookslikeithurts.”
I pause in getting dressed and turn to see Chastmir standing near her bed. She nods to the bandage wrapped around my forearm. I grimace as the sheer material of my gown slides over it, not doing much to hide the clunky white material that clashes with it terribly. “I wish I could say that the thing that truly hurts is my pride, but that would be a lie. They both hurt.”
She steps toward me, a rueful smile on her face. “I am sorry, I didn’t want to hurt you. May I?”
I nod and turn the back of my dress to her as she begins doing up the pearl buttons on the back. It’s one of the dresses that Istaria gave me and probably the finest thing to grace my skin. Perfect for a dinner with a fae lord.
“Which fae lord are you hoping to garner the patronage of?” she asks as she steps back.
