Page 99 of Ruling the Green

“That was some good acting, Lake Girl,” he murmured down by my ear. He looked every bit the devoted husband, holding his wife, trying to comfort her during a trauma.

But he only got to help me put on a show for a moment before all hell broke loose.

People started shouting, pushing, crying out. Guards came running. Fists flew.

Down in the stadium, the melee seemed to start early.

“Fuck,” Jet said, pulling me tightly against his nondominant side so he could reach for his sword.

I saw Tove and Cass being escorted down the platform and back toward the castle.

“Listen to me. Stay close. Hold onto me tight. Don’t stop moving. And if you see a weapon, grab it.”

He waited only to get a nod from me, then we were charging forward into the crush of bodies, everyone yelling, panicking, swinging at each other. While the lone healer tried to attend to Grimwood’s still frame.

A body shoved into me, slamming me into Jet, who didn’t slow, just clutched my arm tighter and tugged me forward.

There was no time to waste.

If the upper echelon were acting like animals, I didn’t want to think what those who came to the event craving violence were doing. And we had to hurry right past them to make our way to the castle.

With no Vishen.

And no Nira.

My heart fluttered in my chest as I nearly tripped over my skirts on the steps of the dais.

All I could hear was noise: the clatter of swords, the crunch of fists hitting bone, the cries of pain, the shouts of anger.

“There he is!” someone shouted.

I didn’t know if they were calling about Jet or not, but he was taking no chances as he stretched his stride longer, making me break into a run to keep up.

Hands shot out, grabbing me, pinching, tearing my dress. But Jet kept rushing forward, likely knowing how outnumbered he was, that he couldn’t slow or he might be ripped apart by the very people he was fighting so hard to give a better life.

Panic gripped my chest as a man with a mace ran toward us, his eyes crazed, his mouth parted in some sort of war cry.

Just as I was bracing myself for impact—as if it was possible to be prepared to be pierced by a dozen metal spikes—a body came out of nowhere, tackling the man to the ground.

The mace went flying, landing just a few feet away, but just too far out of reach to grab as Jet tugged me further away.

The crowd closed in, their grunts and screams filling my ears, making it impossible to hear what Jet was shouting at me.

A cry escaped someone and wetness splattered my face, the metallic smell of blood filling my nose.

I stumbled over a tree trunk as I felt my arm being wrenched back and forth, the air filling with clanking sounds.

When I glanced over, I found Jet’s body twisting back and forth as he swung his sword, colliding with someone else’s.

I wasn’t sure if he let go or I pulled away, but I lost his hold on me as I pushed up, trying to get to my feet.

Something collided with me, sending me falling, rolling down the small hill, rocks jabbing me in the ribs, twigs scraping against my cheeks.

A tree broke my roll, colliding with my ribs, knocking my breath out of me with a wheeze.

The other body was against me, and I fumbled for a rock, ready to do whatever I needed to do to defend myself. But it was a young woman, her eyes huge, blood leaking from her nose. Her lip was split, and her eye was blackened, but those looked like old injuries.

“You okay?” I asked, registering the bone-deep panic on her young face.