Page 47 of Fallacies

Callan presses a kiss to the top of my head. “Come on, Chaos. Time for training.”

“I want to go to Streatham,” I blurt out as soon as we exit the Tavern, sliding my arm through Callan’s as we step out into the brisk morning sun. It’s taking all I have to hold myself together.

The threshold is fifty percent…which means I was right.

I can cross the blood ward.

Admitting that to him would mean admitting half of me is made of the very thing Callan has dedicated his life to getting rid of. I don’t know when or if he’ll ever be ready to hear that, but I know one thing for certain: I need to get out of Pirn, and I need to cross that ward. Time is running out for the Sol trapped in Streatham, and right now, I’m the only hope they have.

“You will, Cin.” Callan smiles, amused by my eagerness. “After you’re initiated.”

I huff, tearing my gaze away as we pass the Banyan, its wide trunk eerily still.

Pax, Hunter, and Phoenix have only been gone a few days, but it feels like longer. Now that I know there’s a good chance I’m capable of crossing the ward, I wish I’d fought Callan a little harder about letting me go with them. Do I have a plan? No. But I hate the waiting.

Callan must notice the longing look I give the massive tree because he sighs, pulling me closer to his side. “We’re going to get you out there, Chaos, I promise. Why the rush?”

I squint up at the sky to avoid his stare, a wave of guilt punching me square in the gut. “I’m just a little claustrophobic,” I decide with a shrug. “That’s all.”

His brows pull together. “Lucina, you aren’t trapped here.”

“Aren’t I?”

Callan goes rigid at my response. He stares back at me for a moment, deep in thought, but I force on a smile and slide my hand further through the crook of his arm.

“It’s not so bad,” I say on a heavy exhale, and it’s the truth. Perhaps the only one I can offer him right now.

There will be a time, I’m sure of it, where I’ll wish we could go back to this: The sun shining down on bright green grass and the delicious smell of breakfast wafting through camp, carried on the soft breeze. This way of life is so simple yet entirely extraordinary. It’s a privilege to just exist in Pirn. With Callan, my friends, my future coven…

I don’t want to be the storm that uproots this place.

I want to be the sacrifice that saves it.

10

Lucina

The pile of stone from the maze sits just outside the training ring, like a broken statue or monument, and I feel like I might crumble beside it.

I’m close to passing out, dried blood mingling with fresh sweat on my skin as I steady my feet beneath me. I can tell from the position of the sun in the sky that it’s nearly lunchtime, which means we’ve been at the Yard for four hours already, and my mender pill is close to wearing off.

My braid is useless and messy, rogue curls clinging to the damp skin between my shoulder blades. I ditched my t-shirt after the first round of this godsforsaken game, but I’m still burning up in my sports bra and shorts. They used to be grey but are now a lovely shade of murky brown—dirt, sweat, and blood.

At least the sweat will make me harder to catch.

“Don’t go easy on her,” Callan shouts at Easton from where he sits behind me.

Tied to a chair.

“Flags don’t talk,” I remind him. Again. I don’t take my eyes off Easton.

We’re playing capture the flag. Except Easton’s “flag” is Devon, and mine is Callan. I have to get past Easton, reach Devon, and free the ropes that hold him, all while preventing Easton from getting past me to do the same. The kicker is, we can’t use magic, and we were only given one weapon—a blade that Easton has had the whole time.

At Callan’s order, the round starts, and Easton stalks forward, knife hanging at his side. It’s still dripping with my blood.

I need it to cut Devon’s ropes, but I haven’t been able to take it from him without slicing myself open in the process. I’ve yet to disarm him—I’ve hardly injured him—but I’ve at least done a damn good job at protecting my flag. Callan has remained in his ropes the whole time.

But so has Devon.