Flint and Ember. I try not to shudder as I remember their sneering faces, their cruel, mocking voices. There is no love lost between my cousin and me. Truthfully, I owe the discovery of one of my anchors to Ember, meaning that in a twisted, roundabout way she actually helped me defeat thebeast in that arena. But hearing Flint’s words, watchinghimlaugh at me, taunt me, was unbearable. My heart clenches at the memory.
It wasn’t real, I tell myself.It wasn’t real and it wasn’t him.
Grandmother glances at me, still brandishing the vial of sedative.
‘I’m not taking that. I want to watch Flint, too.’
Spinner shakes her head. ‘Heirs aren’t allowed to watch the trial, Blaze.’
I ignore her, turning to the physician. ‘Can’t you give me something to keep me going?’
‘You do realize it’s not just you who’s in the infirmary, right?’ says Spinner. ‘Some of the Gusters are in a pretty bad way.’
I learn that the Ventalla arena was nothing short of an abyss, just empty space interspersed with a few stone ledges hovering over the void. One of the Heirs misjudged his ability to levitate, and another lost her balance as she attempted to freeze her beast in place with a dense current of air, which caused her to topple from the ledge she was standing on.
‘They practically had to scrape them up off the floor.’
My eyes widen in horror.
‘I’m just kidding. King Balen slowed their fall. Still, they’ll be out of action for the foreseeable. Nobody’s died yet, though,’ Spinner adds, as if to make me feel better.
Grandmother kisses me lightly on the forehead and leaves to take her place in one of the private viewing rooms overlooking the arena, which are reserved for family of the Heirs, trainers, and Etheri of high status.
She’s followed by a couple of physicians.
Spinner grimaces. ‘There’ll be a lot of burns to tend to after this next trial.’
I refuse the sedative again, but accept more painkiller, opening my mouth obediently to take the strong-smelling vial of purple liquid the physician tips down my throat. It’s instantaneous the way the pain dulls, and I become absolutely, intensely fascinated by the sight of my brandmark.
‘Look, Spinner,’ I breathe. ‘Look at the way it glows. It’s like a little star. I like stars.’ I look up at the physician. ‘Do you like stars?’
Spinner’s shoulders shake in an effort not to laugh. I start laughing myself because everything suddenly seems so much more vivid and interesting and amusing. But the laughter soon sputters out when a wheelchair appears by the bed.
‘We’ll take you back to the palace now,’ says one of the physicians.
‘No.’ My voice increases slightly in pitch.‘No. I’m not going in that. I’ll walk.’
‘You’re not walking anywhere for a few days,’ another physician informs me. ‘There is to be no weight placed on that ankle. Do you understand?’
I turn to Spinner. ‘Why do people always say that?Do you understand?Of course I understand, I’m notstupid.’
Spinner snorts loudly, pressing her lips together.
I try to sound authoritative but my voice comes out all drunk and dreamy. ‘Listen to me. I’m not beingwheeledanywhere. I am an Heir, and you will all do exactly as I say.’
‘I certainly wouldn’t cross her if I were you,’ says a voice from the door.
I don’t register Spinner’s sharp intake of breath, or the looks on the faces of the physicians. I barely even notice as a glass vial shatters on the floor. My eyes are fixed on the boy leaning against the doorframe, smiling at me. I scarcely have time to blink before he’s at my bedside, lifting me gently into his arms, a finger pressed to his lips as he whisks me from the room. I’m so woozy with painkiller that I can only form one clear thought.
‘You’re very handsome.’
And he is, with his sun-kissed golden skin, untidy waves of dark hair and piercing leaf-green eyes. He’s tall, a good head taller than me, with high cheekbones and a little gold hoop dangling from one ear. His shoulders are broad, his jawline angular, and I can feel the corded muscles of his forearms as he holds me against his chest.
His is the kind of beauty one might call devastating. The kind that almost hurts to look at.
The boy chuckles softly, his face just inches from mine. I find myself gazing at his eyelashes, which are jet black and long enough to be enviable. He doesn’t so much as hesitate as he navigates his way through the depths of the Keep.
It takes me a while to notice that I’m wearing nothing but a thin nightgown.
