Taron nods. He grabs the map and spreads it across the foot of his bed. “Rule number one,” he says, suddenly all business, “no fraternizing with the enemy.”
“First of all, a rule isn’t the same as a tactic.” I roll my eyes as I kick off my shoes and scoot across the bed to sit with my back against the wall. “Second of all, I wasn’tfraternizingwith anyone.”
“That’s not how I saw it. Cyrus was practically drooling over you.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Jealous?”
Taron stiffens. I think I see a flush creeping into his cheeks. “I’m just saying we can’t trust him.”
I can’t help the smirk that creeps on to my face. Even though we haven’t known each other that long, it’s a rare thing to see Taron flustered.
A part of me enjoys it more than I should.
“Right,” I say, dragging out the word playfully. “What’s rule number two?”
His voice drops to a conspiratorial whisper. “From here on out, we’re only allowed to call each other by our fake names. Even when we’re alone, in case the Games Master can somehow hear us.”
“OK. And three?”
Taron gathers the map into his arms and sits down next to me, holding it open between us. “Rule number three,” he says. “We’re not going to bed until we’ve memorized this thing.”
I lean in to get a closer look, and his lilac hair brushes softly against my cheek. I realize if he turned his head now, our faces would be inches apart.
My heart leaps. I let my gaze linger ever so briefly on the scar above his lip. Then I force myself to tear my eyes away before he can notice. I swallow the warmth clawing through my veins.
This is wrong.The first trial took a lot out of me. I nearly drowned, and Taron saved me. I can’t mistake gratitude for something deeper.
Blinking, I eye the map. It’s a detailed sketch of Aurora Isle, sprawling with tropical jungles, steep hills and a winding river that cuts through the terrain. There are markers for key locations. Arrows pointing our route to the rest camp, and beyond it, an ancient temple that marks the finish line.
The island looks much bigger than I expected. “Memorize it, huh?”
“Down to the smallest detail,” Taron says. “One trial navigating the unknown has been enough. From here on out, we need to be prepared for anything.”
Chapter Twenty
There’s no doubt that the Sea of Storms lives up to its name.
It’s the dead of night, andTheLeviathanis rocking violently, waves battering all sides of the hull like distant thunder. I lie awake in the cabin, staring at the inky ceiling. The tiny window beside the bed shows only blackness, with occasional bursts of foamy spray.
No matter how many times I’ve tossed and turned, the anticipation is too much, waiting for the gong to signal the next trial.
I’m not sure how long it’s been since we flicked off the lamp, but it feels like minutes and hours all at once. It’s the storm. The lurching vessel. The smell of salt and damp wood in the air mingled with something darker. Fear.
It swirls overhead, thick and oppressive, like a gathering storm.
Taron’s inner demons are more demanding tonight. I’m not surprised. That first trial took a lot out of him, so his subconscious would be struggling to suppress them.
Four of his inner demons hover near the ceiling, one more than yesterday. Their shapes are blurred at the edges, and they drift like hazy, half-formed silhouettes. Their razor-sharp teeth clatter as their tongues lash at the air.
I try to ignore them, but they’re too potent. They must also be able to sense my struggle, because every time I close my eyes, they lurch from the corners of the cabin, forked tongues darting at my face and charcoal eyes burning into my skull.
I must’ve drifted off at one point, because I almost scream when I open my eyes again to find one of the demons breathing its sour, almost spicy breath on to my face. Its sharp, malformed fingers are stroking my cheek.
“That’s enough,” I sneer, grabbing at the demon, only to have it disperse between my fingers and retreat to the corner of the cabin.
Inner demons are tricky to deal with. Much more slippery pests than Soul Wraiths, if that’s even possible. To cleanse a person’s inner demon, you have to pull its roots from the source.
I roll over, facing Taron’s bed across the narrow cabin. His body is still, chest peacefully rising and falling. But I can see beyond the shell of his exterior.
