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The three of us exchange a humored look as he walks away.
“He isn’t suited for the woods,” Sera says. She settles by the fire.
“True, someone should probably go with him,” I say with a shrug.
“I don’t know, he took down that first beast.” Harmony sits next to her sister.
“He had the advantage of surprise. Also, there’s a big difference between a stupid monster and a badass warrior.” Sera helps herself to some of thethingon the spit. She gnaws on it.
“He’s fine,” I say and check my stitches.
“That’s an understatement,” Sera says with a sigh of lust.
“That’s not what I meant,” I bite out.
“Doesn’t make it any less true,” Harmony sings.
I can’t help but snort my agreement.
We fall to silence as we rest by the fire. The sun is high, but the breeze is frigid and crisp. I shiver and comb my fingers through my tangled hair. “Are we still allies?”
Harmony looks at me with a frown. “I guess.”
“Leave us again in the middle of battle though, and I’ll hunt you, string you up, and drain you of your blood,” she says casually, picking at her fingernails.
I grin. “You’re a peach.”
“And you’re a sour-ass grape.” Harmony lies back on her elbows.
A horn blows in the distance. We all look up as magic stretches across the sky, its tendrils black as night.
“REPORT TO THE ARENA CENTER,” Talis’s voice booms through the woods.
I frown. “What’s happening?”
Harmony stands and grabs her sword. “I’m not sure.”
“This wasn’t in your ‘how to cheat’ dossier?” The strategic side of my brain whirs to life.
“Definitely not,” Sera says. “But neither was the Heir joining us.”
Cristen. My eyes dart around the edges of the stronghold.
“Grab your weapons.” Harmony tosses a couple of daggers to Sera, who expertly catches them at the hilt.
I scoop up my own, grunting as my side throbs. “What about Cristen?”
“I’m sure he heard the message.” Sera bumps past me, unhooking something from a pouch at her waist and tossing it to me.
I catch a small vial and eye it. “Poison?”
She snorts. “Healing potion.”
My lips part. “Are you serious? You’ve had this the whole time?”
She shrugs with a smirk. “I was saving it for myself.”
I glare at her as she turns away, then pop off the cork cap to the bottle and drain it. The magic tickles down my throat, warming my insides as it seeps into my veins and travels to the infected wound on my bicep and my newest gash on my torso. I clench my fists as the wounds work to seal themselves.
