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Chapter 27
My dressing room is bustling with activity. Two doctors are looking me over and both my parents are fussing over me. Mom’s worried about my injuries and my dad is giving me tips about the next trial—but I can barely focus on a word he says. I really only want Bash and Halen at this point, but family and servants only. I’m tempted to tell them Bash has my name tattooed on his chest as a promise to me, but I keep my mouth shut.
If the third trial goes as planned, it’ll be over in no time—and both my dad and I will swim away from it. Well, he might be unconscious, but he’ll be alive, and that’s what counts.
One of the doctors turns to me. “Your wounds are sewed up.”
“She’ll be okay to keep on with the trials?” Dad asks. “I should’ve just used the Ayers power. I don’t know what I was thinking. Suppose I was distracted.”
“She’ll be fine—just needs to have the sutures looked at in a couple of days.”
I press on the stitches, and find the wound barely hurts. Kind of tingles.
The doctor nods. “Magic, your highness.”
“Perfect.” Dad turns to me. “Are you ready, or will you need another moment before we head back to the arena?”
My stomach knots and I glance at the bag I brought. “Could I have a few minutes alone to give myself a pep talk?”
“I can give you a pep talk like none other.”
“Please?” I force a smile. “I just need some time alone to prepare myself. Then I’ll be able to give it my all.”
Mom turns to him. “It’s only a couple of minutes, Tiberias.”
He glances back and forth between the two of us. “I can’t say no to either one of you.” He kisses the top of my head. “Just two minutes, daughter.”
I nod. “Promise.”
Mom takes his hand, then everyone clears the room.
My heart thunders so hard I shake. I take a deep breath and make my way over to the bag. I look around to make sure nobody’s watching, even though I know I’m alone.
If this doesn’t work, I’m out of luck. I need this to work.
With trembling fingers, I unzip my bag. Look around again. Pull out a bottle of wine I snagged from the castle the last time I was there. I quickly open it and gulp down two glasses.
Enough to give me the buzz I’m going to need to pull this off but not enough to inhibit my thinking. Can’t let anything get in the way of this.
It’s my dad’s life on the line.
And he’s not even worried. Didn’t act like anything was wrong moments ago.
Knock, knock!
“Time to go, Marra,” my father calls from the other side of the door.
I force the cork back into the bottle’s mouth and shove it into my bag, then zip it up before opening the door.
Dad smiles. I’m overcome with emotion and throw my arms around him.
Maybe I should’ve drunk a little less. Can’t change that now.
The two of us head back to the arena. He whispers about the plan in place for his servants to revive him.
I don’t bother to let him know those plans won’t be necessary. I’m going to render him unconscious without taking his life. It’s the only way—even if he doesn’t see it yet. He will, though. And he’ll even commend me for my out-of-the-box thinking.
Everything goes by in a blur as we re-enter the field. It has been cleaned of all blood and any other remnants of the downed monster that had only been trying to fight for its life, to protect itself. Guilt stings for my part in its end.
