She lands with athumpon yellow grass. Her knees jar, her teeth smash together. But she’s past Simone. She stumbles close to the cliff edge and scrambles backward—to find herself in the middle of a desert. Red sand whips around her and scorching sun burns her back. Her mouth breathes in grit she knows can’t be there.
Then it comes. A black dragon, beating toward her on the horizon, bringing shadow and poisonous smoke.
She has to get away, has to hide.
Wait, no. She doesn’t have to. Because there is no dragon, is there? It’s a powerful illusion—more powerful than anything Aldric coulddo—but it still feels wrong. Like she can feel the magic of it, humming around her.
She closes her eyes. Ignores the smoke that curls from the dragon’s mouth, the feel of sand scraping her bare legs. Her senses start to catch other things. A white-hot burn on the side of her arm. An earthy, woody smell, carried toward her on a breeze.
And there it is. The sound of someone breathing—hard—like they are fighting for control. She knows she’ll only see the desert if she opens her eyes—so she doesn’t. She trusts her other senses instead and runs blindly toward the person she knows is there. She reaches out. And grabs the Illusionist’s throat.
Her fingers squeeze, and she hears the panicked gasp. His hands come up, trying to pry her fingers off. But he is used to relying on his power, and she is stronger than him. She opens her eyes—and the illusion falls away.
“Okay, that’s enough.” For some reason Axel sounds pissed, even though she only has the Blood Wielder and Kinetic left this time. The Illusionist’s face is losing color, Skylar’s fingers pressing in just the right spot to cut off his air supply.
She feels a calm settling over her, her triumph ebbing as if it was never there. But she knows what Axel is doing. And the thing is, she’s actually pretty calm already—or at least, as calm as she ever is. It’s like there’s a dark part of her that he can’t reach, because it’s who she is, not how she feels.
“Back the fuck off,” she says through her teeth.
He sighs. “Herron. If you could.”
She turns to glare at the Influencer, even as he says, “Let him go, Skylar.”
She can feel his power wrapping around her, but she can’t stop herself obeying—no one could. Her hand lets go of the Illusionist’s throat. She shakes it out, trying to remind it that it isherhand. Herron is already stepping back. If only she were an Influencer—she could just tell the witch to stab herself in the heart, job done.
Axel moves toward her, and that earthy scent comes with him. “How did you know he was there? In the illusion?” There is mild curiosity in his tone.
Skylar shrugs. “Heard him.”
He contemplates her. “You won’t be able to do that on the island.”
“Why, thanks, I thought I did pretty well, too.” She thinks she hears a snort and glances over to the line of her tormentors to see Simone give her a subtle wink.
Axel points to her arm, where her skin is red and angry. “If that had been a dragon, you’d be in deep shit, with no way of getting help.”
Skylar looks at Simone again. “Reckon you could Shift into a dragon? Might be more convincing than this one’s attempt.” She jerks her head at the Illusionist.
Simone gives a wistful sigh. “If only, hey?”
Axel steps closer, forcing her attention back to him. “Do you not get that they’ll be testing you? That they won’t care if during those tests, you happen to die?”
“Speaking from experience, are we?” A muscle in his jaw twitches. “Because you keep lecturing me like you’ve actually gone to the island yourself. But all you’ve ever done is watch from the safety of the castle, isn’t it?” He says nothing and she smirks, turning away. “That’s what I thought.” She feels him reach for her, but she’s learning to anticipate his moves. She spins, her hand around his throat before he can act. To his credit, he doesn’t flinch. Maybe he can feel how on edge she is, how close to snapping entirely. Maybe—like her—he’s not sure what will happen if she does.
“What are you trying to accomplish?” she hisses. “Because I get it, okay? You can tell me over and over that I need to practice, but I am spending every waking minute with you out here—what else do you want from me?”
The green in his eyes flashes. “I want you to stop being so arrogant and selfish, to stop complaining, and to realize that it’s not only you who will suffer if you lose this duel.” He practically spits the words. She removes her hand from his throat but doesn’t drop eye contact.
She lowers her voice to barely a murmur. “Do you really think I don’t know who suffers the most?” She shakes her head. “You talk about suffering as if it’s new. But people arealreadysuffering out there.” She points to the castle wall in the distance, to what is beyond it. “People are being snatched from their homes to serve your king,and those who are left are starving—they can’t afford so much as a drop of the Vitalas you use here.” She makes a sound of disgust at the back of her throat. “And you think you’re one to comment on that, do you? You, all of you”—she gestures to include the menagerie—“you’re somehow exempt from conscription, aren’t you? Because you have an in with the royals. Yet you want to lecturemeon right and wrong?”
When she stops she’s breathing heavily, and Axel is considering her with an expression that she hasn’t seen before. But she doesn’t care what he thinks right now. Because Cam’s face is at the forefront of her mind once again, and the panic, always on a low burn, surges. Time. She’s running out of time. Her mind goes unwillingly to the witch. To her offer of help. Skylar doesn’t trust her, but…
“I know you won’t believe this,” Axel says, his gaze heavy on hers, “but everything I do here is with that very suffering in mind.”
She closes her eyes to block him out. “You’re right,” she says bitterly. “I don’t believe it.”
When she opens her eyes, Axel is still looking at her. And for the briefest of moments, something she doesn’t quite understand passes between them.
There is the sound of coughing, and both Axel and Skylar turn to look. A servant is there, his gaze darting between them, then around at the menagerie. “Sorry to interrupt,” he practically whispers, “but the king has requested your company.” He looks at Axel as he says this. More rebel activity? Skylar wonders. Are they really causing that much trouble? Have they really been getting conscripts out to safety? Her heart gives a half leap in hope—but she knows Cam isn’t free. If he was, he’d have sent a Projection to her, she’s sure of it.
