Luvic stumbled, tilting dizzily.
I darted forward and grabbed Luvic’s muzzle, holding his mouth closed even as he snarled and snapped. “No! Luvic. No!”
I filled my voice with the iron will of a Ward. With all the power that flowed inside me. All the chains and the prison walls and the mazes in my blood. I let everything that made me a Ward coat my words, and then I shoved them at Luvic.
At the low, husky, forceful notes, Luvic stilled, caught in the prison of my words. He stared at me, and I stared back. A low, whining sound ripped from his throat.
“Don’t attack Justice. Don’t hurt Last. Don’t attack me.”
He shuddered, a tremble flowing over him and rippling his fur like tall grass blowing in the breeze. I felt a prickle—a sharp, bee-sting pain in my finger. It felt like thorns gouging through me, and Luvic shuddered again.
He dropped his head. It was wide, like a bull mastiff’s, with powerful jaws and terrifying strength. He nudged my hand.
And then I knew. The bee-sting sensation faded, but Luvic held still.
When Luvic had pricked me with the bee brooch, I thought he’d done something to me. I thought he’d placed me under his power and made it so he was queen bee to my drone. But that wasn’t what he’d done at all.
Behind him, Justice slipped closer, preparing to knock him unconscious or?—
“No!” I said, and when I did, Luvic turned and snarled at Justice. “No. It’s all right. He’s . . . he’s okay now.”
Justice narrowed his eyes, and Luvic snarled.
Then Justice stilled and tilted his head. “Mari?”
I nodded.
The arena had gone chillingly, eerily silent. The roar had been cut off, and now thousands of people were staring at us. None of them made a sound.
The slipshot tiptoed over the grass and looked at Luvic warily. “You two got a plan?”
Justice raised an eyebrow. “Yeah. We’re getting out of here.”
The slipshot cast wary eyes over the crowd. There was something terrifying about the silence and their total focus. My skin began to crawl, and the heat that puckered over me turned to sharp ice prickles.
“Why are they staring like that?” I whispered.
“Because you stopped the festival. It’s against the rules.”
“So what?” Justice said.
We started backing toward Last. She was still dizzily throwing flowers and laughing. The people in the field were the only ones who seemed unaware of the shifting mood.
“So if you break the rules, you get punished. The clouds”—Gerald pointed up at the gathering mass of black clouds pressing over the arena—“come after you. They grab you. Like tentacles. Or strings. They put on a show, and you’re their marionette. I’ve only seen one . . . It was. . .” His face paled. “You know how to get out of here?”
I nodded. I still held onto the invisible golden rope that connected me to Finn. It led out of the arena, past the field we’d landed in, and then beyond. I had to believe it was leading me back toward him. If I followed it, I think I’d find the way out.
“Yeah. I do. Luvic?” I stared into his eyes. “Carry Last.”
There was the bee-sting prick, then his lips curled, and he bounded across the field, grabbed Last by her dress, and held her in his mouth like a mother cat holding her kitten. In seconds, he was back at our sides.
Last smiled dreamily and lay limp, hanging from his mouth. “Pretty kitty,” she said, and then she giggled.
Gerald was stepping forward, about to offer her some of his green juice, when the clouds thundered. It shook the ground. We were tossed, rolled, and thrown into the air. When we landed, the clouds were closer than they’d ever been, and the arena had plunged into near darkness.
Then the crowd screamed, and even though it was a wordless sound, I understood the intent. Kill.
They rushed over the stone ledge, falling toward us like a human waterfall.
