It’s the first time here that he’s used it, and it crushes a part of me that he wants to keep me out, especially after what he just went through. The need to push through—to break through—and yell at him that I’m fine, and he needs to reassure me of the same for him, is vibrating through my chest. My heart pounds against my ribs as I swallow the fact that he wants space. I won’t betray that and take it away.
Sitting up, I pull down the collar of my shirt, ignoring the blood stain, and check the wound to my shoulder and other arm.
The one where Ten slowly pressed the blade into me, now has a star-like scar, red and ugly, where the skin’s been pulled back into place, but at least it doesn’t hurt. It aches, like in Kirrasia when Calix hit me. The tissue is mended, but not the damage beneath—just like in Kirrasia.
I just hope it doesn’t leave a scar on Ten, as well.
twenty-three
. . .
Aten
The triune that cloaked us from sight also circles us until we’re out of the way. My hand is covered in blood from the gash on my arm, and I watch in anger as Kalan picks Ever up to take her away.
I tilt my head to Crimson and give her a slight nod, and then elbow the man to my side, before rounding on the one to the other side and laying a punch to his jaw, then stomach. He crumples, and I eye up the second man.
“Crim?”
The guffs and moans confirm she’s doing fine, her own guard on the floor, but reinforcements seem to swarm from nowhere.
“The perimeter. They’re fast, Ten. What do you want to do? You’re hurt.”
Even if we can fight our way free here, there are more people to get through, to beat. I reach for the knife at my back, only to remember that Ever still has it.
“Don’t do it. You might think you can leave. You can’t.” The guard who’s been watching over us in our cell says from behind us.
“You sound pretty sure for someone who left Kirrasia because you were weak.” Crimson’s comment taunts the man, and he charges right for her. She’s fast, but his punch connects with her face, slowing her down, and she only manages a counter swing with her leg, trying to bring him to the ground.
Two more men appear, penning me in and backing me up towards the mouth of the mountain. So, I push my concentration, and instead of physical violence, I try mental violence.
Nobody’s playing fair.
Why the fuck should I?
I pull on all my energy and force my will towards their minds. I’m less focused on what I see, more on causing them to stop and turn their intent on each other rather than me.
They’re already angry, and they just need the suggestion of who to aim it at. And it works for one of them, at least, which buys me some time to help Crimson.
But, as soon as I turn, the less affected one grabs hold of my injured arm and digs his fingers into the cut.
“Arghhh,” I grit through clenched teeth as the pain intensifies and short-circuits my focus, and the two men become five as reinforcements arrive. Crim and I catch each other’s gaze, and, for a second, I want her to flee. To save herself. To warn the others, get back to Kirrasia, or even Calix and Lyle in Estereah. Just save herself from being here.
She shakes her head, as if she hears my question, and lifts her hands in defeat, at least for today.
We’re backed up into our cage like animals, and the door slams shut.
No reprimands, no threats. Just cold iron bars and nobody in earshot. I curse my father for leaving me weak like this, and I curse my mother for not showing me how to aim my power like a weapon.
“Ten!”
“What?” I snap at her.
“You’re still bleeding. Calm down.”
“I’m fine. It’s Ever I’m worried about.”
“Don’t insult me. You’re hurt, and you’re angry. I know you, Ciro. And there’s no sparring area or Calix to take the edge off, so let it out another way.”
