I rear back. “Excuse me? That will certainly not be happening,” I declare. Hell would freeze over before I let this man touch me.
He lifts a shoulder. “Then don’t get caught.”
“And all that shit you threw at Ambrose earlier? About me being a first-year?” I throw right back in his face.
“I’ve changed my mind.” He drops his hand and leans close to my face. “Run.”
I do what any reasonable person would do.
I run.
Chapter twenty-five
I wince as another branch smacks me in the face.
Twigs and leaves are tangled in my hair. Cuts line my cheeks, and my lungs are waving the white flag. Each breath I take makes my chest heave, and the air burns as it goes down.
It’s been ten minutes, or close to, and I’m running like my life depends on it. Because it does. Not only are they twice my size and lethally skilled, but they also have dark magic on their side. The only thing I have is sheer desperation. With limited options, I keep pushing forward. Hopefully, I can get far enough away that they lose interest. Unlikely, I know. But it’s all I have to cling to. The only other option I have is to find a good hiding spot and hope they suck at hide-and-seek.
I keep thinking of the most random things to try to throw Kingston off. There’s no doubt in my mind he’s eavesdropping this very second.
Bread pudding. Dirty socks. Shadow-Wielding class sucks. So do shadow wielders.
There’s another big problem.
Snow.
Every single step I take is a flashing beacon to my location. I have to get out of the snow. My boots sink into the well-worn path as I advance. The earth is soft and damp beneath my feet. Sweat beads across my forehead, causing loose tendrils to stick to the moisture along my hairline. The rough cotton shirt clings to my back.
I slip my arms out of my heavy cloak and toss it behind a large pine without breaking my stride. Stopping is not an option. Every second can be the difference between victory and defeat. In this case, defeat would likely break every piece of my soul. There’d be no coming back from what he said they’d do.
Up ahead, I hear the sound I’ve been praying for. I stumble over a root protruding from the dirt and nearly fall forward. My hands shoot out, grabbing onto a tree to right myself. A grunt flies from my mouth, the sting of the bark digging into my flesh. I quickly wipe my palms on my shirt and bend down to roll up both pant legs.
This is absolutely going to suck.
I bite my lower lip and step into the Blood River. The shock is immediate. Cold, unlike anything I’ve ever felt, radiates up my legs and steals my breath. Precious seconds tick by as I stand in the freezing rapids, the rush overtaking my system. The intense feeling quickly turns into a numbing sensation, and I wade farther in.
Once I’m thigh level with the rapids, I turn and make my way upriver, against the current. They’ll think I went east, and I followed the downward current, as any sane person would do, considering it’d be so much easier. Each step is treacherous and exhausting. The current makes any progress painstakingly slow, and my entire lower half is starting to lose feeling.
“Shit!” I yell as my boot slips along a rock. Both arms fly out to balance myself and slip into the freezing water instead. I quickly yank them out and stand, bringing my hands in front of my face. Crimson water droplets race down my wrist. I can’t let my mind go there. Not when this river is my salvation.
It’s not real blood. It’s not real blood. SHIT. Rancid bathwater. Sloppy kisses. Monsoons.
The only problem is, I’m pretty sure it is real blood.
I walk for what feels like another fifteen minutes before I drag myself out of the red tinted water and onto the riverbank. I roll on my back and close my eyes. Pebbles dig into the soggy fabric of my shirt, and sand buries itself in my hair. Both of my hands and feet tingle, and a trail of blood trickles down my shin from one of the many falls I took in the currents. If there wasn’t so much on the line right now, I think I might give up. I’m tired. So. So. Tired.
Caderyn women do not show weakness.
The words echo in my head like a horrifying symphony.
Even in near death, I can’t escape my mother’s judgment.
Shivers wrack my body as I lie on the pebbled bank. I can feel my breath coming out more shallow than it should be. I wave my fingers in front of my face. Relief hits me that they haven’t yet taken on a blueish hue. Clenching my teeth, I roll to my side and push myself up. I need to move. Staying in one place is the worst thing a person can do when trying to survive. To be stagnant is to be dead.
Ignoring the way my legs tremble, I push through the thick trees, wandering farther into the dense woods. If I’ve counted correctly, which is a gamble with how sluggish my mind feels, I should only have about thirty minutes or less left on the clock. I just need to remain under the radar for a little bit longer.
Treading as quietly as possible, I keep moving. Sound echoes here and carries far. I’m all but dragging my legs at this point,demanding they cooperate. Everything hurts. Physically and mentally. I am literally one big ball of hurt right now. It would be easy to just rest for another moment, but instead, I push aside a large branch and step under it.
