My arms flail for survival and, finally, I break the surface. I gasp and cough, managing to throw myself on to the bank.What the hell just happened?
Through the blur of water in my eyes, I see Taron. He’s facing off against someone on the other side of the river – Gideon.
Taron holds jagged, circular blades between each finger on both hands. He throws the blades in the air, and they hover beside him, rising over his head like a halo.
Gideon is quick to retaliate. He stomps his foot, and water spurts from the river in the form of spiked cannonballs. Taron rolls out of the way. His arm is outstretched as he sends two of his blades through the air.
They find their mark – one embeds itself in Gideon’s arm, and the other grazes his ear, drawing a string of blood.
I gasp as a hand out of nowhere yanks me back by my hair. The ground comes quickly, the impact driving whatever breath I had regained from my lungs.
I turn to see who’s behind me. Cyrus. His lips curl into a cruel grin as he presses a glowing blade to my throat. It hisses against my skin, not the biting sting of steel, but a burning, flaring heat, like the touch of the sun itself.
“This is cosy, isn’t it?” Cyrus whispers in my ear. He lowers himself into a crouch and his arm winds around my waist. The weight of the blade at my neck keeps me still. He has me entirely at his mercy. One slice and I’m done for.
“You should be careful out here in the jungle, Freckles,” he taunts, his voice venomous as he twists my chin towards him with the back of his hand. “I hear it’s very dangerous.”
I meet his dark gaze, trying to keep an appearance of calm. Keep him talking, keep him distracted.
“Are you really going to kill me?” My voice is steady, despite the terror clawing at my insides.
“Hand over your half of the crystal star, and I won’t have to.”
“I don’t have our half of the crystal.”
A seething pain flares across my neck as Cyrus tightens his grip. “Then tell your teammate to give it to me.”
I suppress a cry, unwilling to show him any weakness. “You won’t kill me, Cyrus.”
“What makes you so sure?” he sneers. “Flirting with you is fun and all, but it’s still a tournament.”
“Because I see you.”
He’s quiet.
“Every day, playing the role of a spoiled prince.”
There’s a twitch in his brow.
“You play it well,” I add. “Too well. You pretend you don’t care about anything. But if that were true, you wouldn’t be here on the island. Risking your life in a deadly tournament with nothing to gain. What could you possibly need the wish for? Money? Fame? You have everything. Except, maybe, the respect of your family.”
Cyrus flares his nostrils. His face is red, a vein between his brows becoming engorged with anger. It’s a gamble, playing the family card. One that could go either way. But he doesn’t say anything, because he knows I’m right.
“I can’t tell if you’re brave or stupid,” he finally says. “Here I am, with a blade to your neck, and you still dare to insult a prince.”
“Tongues are often the sharpest of blades. I reckon that makes us even.”
“What to do with you, Freckles…” His gaze drops to my lips, and he eases the blade away from my throat.
I hold back a breath of relief. Cyrus continues to stareat me. He leans in, slowly, when a roar rips through the air.
Cyrus jerks his head up, distracted. I shove him away and make it to my feet, clutching my throat where the blade had grazed it. Small red dots come away on my fingers, blood drawn from lacerations so small they’re barely visible to the naked eye.
The roar came from Taron. He’s charging, and I’ve never seen a reaction so explosive from him, fury etched into every line of his face. Cyrus barely has time to react before Taron slams into him, sending both of them crashing into the river.
I’m about to rush to Taron’s aid when Gideon appears out of nowhere. He grabs me from behind, locking me in a chokehold.
“Hold still,” he growls. “You’re lucky His Highness likes you. Your boyfriend, that’s another story.”
