Finding Oliver in formation, I slid up next to him and gave him an apologetic frown. “I’m sorry.”
He didn’t acknowledge me, and I couldn’t take it anymore. For the last two days, he’d been avoiding me, not stepping foot in our bedroom and ignoring me at every turn.
“Oliver.” I reached out and touched his arm.
Moira opened the door, and he jerked out of my hold, running ahead. I caught up to him, and he continued to suffocate me with his silence. Of course I expected him to be hurt, but I figured an apology would be enough to remedy his cold shoulder. He had to know I didn’t mean what I said. I was just frustrated—with the general, our progress, and his cheating. I couldn’t voice that part now, though, not as my breaths turned ragged and my lungs struggled for air.
Oliver slowed to a walk.
“No stopping,” I heaved, waving him on.
He didn’t respond, keeping his gaze on the winding road ahead as if I weren’t there.
But I couldn’t stop for him. He knew that. And he was using it against me to get away.
I swallowed the lump in my throat and continued without him, blinking rapidly to clear the sting from my eyes.
The Tormentors soon lapped me, their mocking shouts echoing down the slushy road. I kept them in sight as best I could, pushing myself through the pain. At five miles, my body screamed for a break. Numbness crept into my feet, and my vision fuzzed. A part of me knew I should stop, but an invasive urgency shoved the instinct aside, pressuring me to continue.
In one blink, my legs gave out, and I slammed my head into the gravel.
When I came to, something pressed against my neck. I blinked away the frost from my lashes and found Oliver’s face.
“Oliver?” I said, forcing myself up, ignoring the pain in my skull. “Heavenly Hell, I passed out again, didn’t I?”
He crossed his arms.
I stood, brushing my forehead and wincing when my fingers came away bloody. “Thanks for staying with me. Does this mean you forgive me?”
He raised a brow, snorted, then jogged away.
I sighed and jogged after him.
The next few miles were brutal, each step heavier than the last. My limbs dragged, and I stumbled and zigzagged more than I ran straight. Oliver stayed in sight, but he never once looked back. Evenwhen I approached the hill, he continued, leaving me to struggle up it like he’d said he would.
I bit my lip to stop it from trembling, squared my shoulders, and forced myself to jog the final two miles. Oliver entered the arena, and nausea slammed into my stomach. I tried to hold it back; I only had a few yards left. But it bubbled up and out, splashing onto the snow just as another squad bulldozed through the arena doors.
“Oh, lookie here, it’s the Hell-whore,” a male sneered before kicking the backs of my knees and shoving me to the ground.
I hit the snow hard, catching myself on my hands and narrowly avoiding my puke. My fingers closed around a jagged lump of ice. I’d made it so easy for him to knock me down. Practically wore a sign that saidWeak. Doesn’t belong. Punish her.
And they would.
I’d already seen one Bowel member try to murder a Trencher just to take their spot. But even with my nausea, spinning head, and ragged breaths, that wasn’t going to be me.
I’d fight.
Their laughter echoed as their boots pounded away.
“Should’ve slit her throat, Dusty,” one of them called over the wind. “Could’ve gotten your spot back.”
Surprised they left, I pushed to my feet and released the ice. My wary glare tracked Dusty and his friend as they jogged down the hill.
“And have the general’s Soul Sword at my neck? No thanks.” Dusty scoffed.
So the general’s spectacle didn’t just stop Theon; it made everyone else hesitate too. No wonder Oliver and I hadn’t had more attempts on our lives.
“She must give him good head.”
