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“I guess we should get moving,” Gwen murmured against me, moving slightly and sending a fresh wave of sudsflower toward my face. I breathed in deeply one last time before nodding and pulling away.
“Down this tunnel is the end. At least we have that to look forward to.” I walked back to where we’d fallen, snagging Gwen’s case and the royal satchel that had fallen from my suit pocket. There wasn’t much left in it from Dismor, but I would not leave my family’s crest in this tunnel on this foreign world. I would take it home alive, or dead.
We walked slowly, both not ready to rush to the end.
After half a kilometer or so, our journey was halted by a forcefield. Gwen pressed a palm to it, and it pulsed. “I guess we’re just supposed to wait here?”
I placed the case on the ground and then sat. The curved wall wasn’t comfortable to rest against and my back ached almost immediately. I shifted, folding my legs together and letting my hands hang loosely against my knees. Gwen touched the forcefield again, trying to press her index finger between the glowing grid. She winced after a second.
“It stings you a little, if you try to force your way through. This tech would be fantastic for farms back home. Or like invisible dog fences.” She turned around and joined me, plopping down and quickly discovering the same thing I had—that the tunnel wall wasn’t great for leaning against. “They could have at least given us chairs or pillows or something if we have to wait.”
“I don’t think the games consider comfort. We’re just here to fight and live or fight and die.” I smiled though, softening my words.
“If we make it through this, I’m going to introduce you to a little amazing concept called glamping.”
“Glamping?”
“Glamorous camping.” Gwen flooded her mind with images of fancy boxes on large wheels. Some were pulled behind vehicles—trucks, her mind supplied—others could drive themselves. Inside were restrooms and beds and places to cook. They were basically homes. She shifted her thoughts, showing herself in fuzzy pajamas and big slippers eating a large dark brown rectangle. Then seconds later she was blowing fire off a lump of charred white and shoving it between two light brown crackers with more of the dark brown. “Chocolate and Smores,” she moaned out, “I’d kill for anything like that right now.”
I laughed, tipping my head back and really letting go. “I don’t know what that is, but it’s not camping.”
“One trip with me, and Dismor won’t be your camping expert anymore.” She nudged my side with her elbow.
“Dismor won’t give her title up easily.”
“I’ll charm her, don’t worry.”
“I have no doubt.” I tossed an arm around her, pulling her close. “Try to get some sleep. Who knows when the barrier will drop.”
“I’m not tired.” She stifled a yawn, as if her body was rebelling against her words.
“You haven’t rested in a while. You were attacked, nearly drowned, barely escaped an avalanche. Rest, Gwen.”
“Fine, fine. But wake me the second the forcefield turns off. No running into death without me.” She nestled into my body.
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” I stroked her hair, brushing down flyaway strands.
* * *
Gwen’ssoft snoring was the only sound in the tunnel; it soothed me.
I willed the forcefield to stay up forever, hoping uselessly that Bloodworm would magically forget about my contract. That he’d just let the final battle wage without me. He’d said something during our early negotiations about me being his prized steer. J’onn had explained the idiom to me.
If I could not win these games, how could I ensure Gwen would survive?
I’d spent the past hours musing over this very question. I’d picked her in the bonding ceremony, because then that was the best way to save her, but now sticking by my side was not the best thing for her. Being away from me might be safer. As long as she was alive though, she was supposed to be my constant companion, her mind invading my own at the most inopportune times. She was supposed to be a distraction, supposed to make it harder for me to survive.
The games had it wrong though, these human women were not liabilities, they were wonders. Being with Gwen made me stronger than I’d ever been before. Because of her, the olde magick had flooded through me. I had used it.
And I still didn’t know how to feel about that. Part of me hated myself. Hadn’t my grandfather banished the Incendiaries for the same crime? And here I was, Orenda’s King, utilizing it for my own gains.
If I admitted this to J’onn, what would he say? Would he, as the last keeper, punish me as he should? Did I deserve a pass because of my current circumstances?
Before I could answer these questions, the barrier buzzed and disappeared.
It was time.
My hearts beat slowly, resolutely.
I shook Gwen gently and her lashes fluttered. “The forcefield down?” she murmured, still fighting sleep.
“It’s down.”
“M’kay,” she muttered, sitting up and rubbing her eyes. “I’m ready.”
“You look ready.” Her hair was mussed, and her cheeks were flushed. A thin trail of drool was drying down her chin. She’d slept hard.
“Are you making fun of me?” She swiped at her chin, trying not to yawn.
“Never, Gwen.” I stood up, offering her my hand.
