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The Trabajador’s leg kicked out from underneath the pile, sending one of the Guardias stumbling away from the altercation.
“No,” I breathed. Why did he hit a Guardia? Fighting back had confirmed his fate.
The Trabajador stood up and held his hands in the air, his face lit with a mixture of defiance and courage. He was outnumbered, but he still refused to back down or surrender in the face of danger. My admiration grew as I watched him, alongside this indomitable feeling in my chest. For a second, I thought he could actually beat them.
The Guardia yelled at the Trabajador, their voices echoing off the walls of the nearby buildings.
In yet another foolish move, the man hocked his head back and spit at the Guardias.
My head dropped into my stomach.
In a movement so swift it almost seemed like a magic trick, they drew their firearms and pointed them directly at the Trabajador.
Magda squeezed my hand tighter just as my mouth went dry.
The shot was a flash of light, followed by a burst of sound. I crashed to the ground out of instinct and scrambled to the spot under the bed. My knee caught on one of the splintered floorboards and tore at my skin.
Magda stumbled backward and a golden glow spread across my body in the blink of an eye. My umber skin stained gold, and a concentrated heat poured over my body while it healed my injury.
Tears slipped down my face. “Don’t touch me,” I breathed.
When I bled, I healed. And that was a problem, because it meant Blood Magic. But it wasn’t like any kind of Blood Magic I’d ever seen, because I turned gold.
Gold as the chancellor’s circlet, or the crowns of royalty long passed. Gold as a Blood Tournament trophy.
“Damnit,” Magda tripped over something before throwing a thick blanket over the bright light to block it out.
It had been four years since the orphanage, but I was transported back to bombs exploding around us. Instinct told me that the dark, cramped spot under the bed was safe. The agonizing ringing started again, so I pressed my palms to my ears and rocked back and forth as best I could.
Feral animal. That is what I was.
As soon as the gold faded, hands dragged me out of my hiding place.
“Carmen!” Magda was whisper-shouting at me. Her hands were on my face, wiping away tears I didn’t remember crying. “It’s all right, Carmencita. I love you. You are okay. I’m okay.” She said the words over and over as I threw my arms around her.
My shoulders shook.
This wasn’t the first time the Guardias had killed someone out in the open, but it was the first time I’d witnessed it so close to our home. Violence of any kind sickened me. Guardias were controlled by the Élite—anything was possible with them.
“Let’s go to bed,” Magda cooed to me while she stood. She pulled me up.
My eyes had already started adjusting to the surrounding darkness, and I squeezed them shut.
“It’s okay. It’s fine,” Magda said as we crawled into bed. “I know this is terrifying. I get scared—”
Then, like a pail of ice water being poured over my head, I sobered. With great effort, I shoved them down into the depths of my soul. Out of sight. I needed to be okay, so I found my voice through the fear. “I am fine.”
She watched me for a moment. “I understand.”
And she did. We had grown up together, after all. We knew everything.
We didn’t say another word before we drifted off to sleep.
Chapter6
Where Did This Come From?
Our bedroom had a large curtain-less window. We left it uncovered because I liked waking up with the brilliant rays of golden light that poured through the glass, warming everything in their path. Magda was still asleep on the narrow bed squeezed in right in front of our door. We slept together nearly every night, but last night had us huddled together like a couple of abandoned puppies. Bright lights didn’t call her from sleep the same way they did for me.
