Carver peels himself off the wood, looking more than ready to oblige.
I hold up a hand to stop him. “Whathaveyou learned?” I ask Jocasta.
“Knife throwing. Swordplay. Some grappling and self-defense.”
“How are you with a target?”
“Excellent.”
“And with a moving target?”
“Average.”
“And with a sword?” I ask.
“Mediocre.”
So she can lift and swing. Great. At least she’s honest.
The muscles at the back of Flynn’s jaw bounce out like they have a life of their own. “I seriously hope you’re not considering this.”
And I seriously hope he’s talking to Griffin and not to me.
Jocasta’s expression turns stony with resolve. “I understand your doubts. I’ll stay out of it as much as possible. I’ll simply be your sixth body in the arena.”
“Sixthdeadbody!” Flynn explodes. “This is madness!”
Jocasta whirls on him. “Do you want me to hit you again?”
Flynn’s brown eyes catch fire. Then, in the space of a few breaths, his face shuts down completely. “If she walks out there, I don’t. We’ll have to forfeit anyway.”
My heart sinks. He means every word.
Griffin levels the same piercing stare on Flynn that he’s always using on me. “I know my sister. She’ll forgive just about anything. She won’t forgive a selfish choice.”
Flynn looks at Griffin like he’s possessed. “Don’t tell me you condone this!”
Griffin looks torn. How could he not?
“Can you be my shadow?” I ask Jocasta, knowing I should really keep my mouth shut. “Stick to me like the Minotaur to its maze? Do whatever I say? No hesitating. Not even a second. And if not me, then someone else?”
She nods. Not eagerly. Not enthusiastically. She just nods.
“Cat—” Flynn gears up to argue again.
“Stop.” I slice my head to the side, silencing him. “We’ve all chosen to put our lives on the line for a reason. For a cause. Jocasta isn’t less of a person than we are. She doesn’t get half a vote. She made a noble offer, and you’re spitting in her face.”
“I’m not spitting in her face! She isn’t really trained. How can you even consider this?”
“Do you think I was truly trained the first time my mother threw me into an arena with people twice my size and honed to fight?” I laugh, and it’s as brittle as winter leaves. “Trial by fire. It forges a heart of iron.”
“And that’s what you want for Jo? A heart of iron?” Flynn scoffs. “You’re hard and mean and a little bit crazy, Cat.”
A warning sound rumbles in Griffin’s chest. My own chest tightens painfully, and even though I feel the truth in his words, I try to remember that tomorrow Flynn could tell me I’m fun and selfless and brave. He’s angry now. I look him in the eyes and see he already regrets what he said. He knows me well, though. I am hard, and crazy, and mean. But not always, and that’s not the sum of who I am.
I step toward Flynn, my voice low and trembling with the kind of ungovernable emotion that only comes from arguing with someone you truly care about. “A heart of iron meansI do not break. Youcannotbreak me. I may not be the strongest, or the fastest, or the best, but I willfight. I will fight for everyone I love. I will fight for myself. You can beat me until I’m bloody. You can break my bones. You can tear my skin. You can burn me. You can crush me until I can’t breathe, and you’re sure I’m dead, and then do you know what?”
Flynn looks at me, his mouth a compressed line. “What?” he finally asks.
