Empire of Flame and Thorns (Flame and Thorns #1)

Chapter 12

CHAPTER TWELVE

I barely feel like a person. I feel more like a husk that someone has scraped all the important bits out of. My stomach is empty, I’m lightheaded, and it feels as if the slightest breeze is going to knock me over.

After I left the ball, I spent most of the night puking my guts up. It finally stopped early this morning. I staggered down to breakfast but only managed to drink some water and eat two bites of bread. Then I went back to bed and thankfully managed to get two hours of sleep. And now, as I stand here in a crowded corridor, waiting for the first trial to be announced, I can’t for the life of me figure out how I’m supposed to muster enough energy to win it.

“Food poisoning,” Maximus says from across the corridor. There is a mocking grin on his face as he tuts and shakes his head while sweeping a glance over the rest of us. “Such terrible luck.”

If we weren’t forbidden from killing each other outside of the trials, I’m pretty sure that Maximus would be dead several times over by now.

I wasn’t the only one who became ill last night. Several others mysteriously came down with the same sickness too.

And we all know why.

Because Maximus has poison magic, and he somehow used it to spike our drinks.

We just can’t prove it.

And the people who contracted this alleged food poisoning were not random. All of them are strong magic users and some of the most difficult competition in these trials. I’m pretty sure that I only ended up on that list because of the little stunt that Draven pulled last night. One more reason to hate the arrogant bastard.

“Careful now, Maximus,” Isera warns.

She was one of the people who were poisoned as well. Though she looks in much better shape than I feel.

Maximus flashes her a sharp grin. “Or what, ice lady?”

She just lets out a low chuckle, as if she can’t even be bothered to reply to such a ridiculous question.

Before he can bait her again, the large door at the end of the corridor is pulled open. It groans on its hinges, giving evidence that this is not a door that has been opened often. We’re somewhere at the back of the castle, and I’m pretty sure that the large door leads outdoors, but I don’t know where it leads exactly or what we’re doing here.

“Let’s go!” someone calls from outside the doors. “Move it.”

A ripple goes through our large group, and then footsteps echo between the stone walls as we hurry to follow the shouted command. My head spins with every step, but I try to block it out. It’s not as if I have never been exhausted and hungry before. It doesn’t matter that I’ve barely slept and that I spent all night throwing up. I can do this.

I hope.

A loud cheering noise rises as we step out of the corridor and onto the ground outside.

Even though it’s an overcast day, the gray light still stabs at my eyes after my ordeal last night, so I raise a hand to shield them while I blink repeatedly. Once my vision has adjusted, I suck in a sharp breath.

We’re on the floor of an arena. Packed dirt covers the ground in the shape of a large circle, and then rows of benches rise up and surround the space in several tiers. Dragon shifters fill the seats, and they cheer excitedly as we are herded towards the center of the arena floor.

While stumbling along with the others, I crane my neck and turn slowly to take it all in. My heart rate picks up as I study all the eager faces looking down at us. I don’t know what it is that we’re supposed to do, but the dragon shifters are eager, and that’s never a good sign.

My gaze finds the two Iceheart monarchs. They’re seated in two grand chairs in the very middle. That tier is wider, and there are fewer benches on it, so it was probably used by the Seelie Queen when she lived here. Draven stands there as well, along with the other seven clan leaders. From this far away, I can’t read the expression on his face. But if he has heard about the poisoning that I suffered because of his meddling, he is probably very pleased with himself.

“Contestants,” Imar calls as he strides out to the edge of an otherwise empty section a little to the left of the Icehearts.

Clothes rustle as we all turn towards him. Since we weren’t ordered to wear anything specific, I’ve changed back into my own clothes. Pants and shirt and boots are much easier to move in than a dress. My knife is also securely strapped to my thigh in case I need it for anything.

“Welcome to your first Atonement Trial,” Imar says. I can’t see his face clearly from this distance, but it sounds like he is grinning. “Today, we will truly cull the unworthy. Only half of you will make it to the next trial.”

Several shocked gasps echo from our group. I cast a few quick glances around me. By my best estimate, there are maybe eighty of us. That means forty will make it through to the next round. All things considered, those are decent odds. Depending on what the trial is, I should be able to make it without too much trouble.

“The objective is this,” Imar continues. “Be among the last forty standing inside the circle.”

Confusion ripples through our group as we glance around the arena floor. There is no circle anywhere to be seen. However, I’m not stupid enough to draw attention to myself by pointing that out, so I simply turn back to Imar.

Someone else is, though.

“What circle?” Tommen, the guy with enhanced strength, calls while motioning with his arms at the packed dirt around us.

Silence falls over the arena.

Then black smoke explodes across Imar’s section, and a red dragon soars out of it.

I jerk back in alarm.

Cries ring out from several others as Imar in his dragon form swoops towards us. Some of the contestants summon magic.

“Attack him and you’re dead,” Gremar Fireclaw bellows from the section where all the clan leaders are standing.

The magic immediately vanishes, but we all press tighter together in the middle of the arena as Imar circles us. His wings boom in the air, sending blasts of wind towards the ground and kicking up clouds of dust.

Then he opens his jaws.

I tense, gripping the hilt of my knife even though it’s useless.

Dragon fire shoots through the air.

More cries rip from our group as we push harder together.

Imar flies in a circle around us, sending a torrent of fire straight at the ground as he flies. The heat from it vibrates through the air. I avert my eyes to protect my vision.

Once he has completed the full circle, he flies back to his empty section. Black smoke yet again explodes across the stone ledge. When it clears, Imar is once more standing there in his human form.

“ That circle,” he announces, and stabs a hand towards the still smoldering ground.

I shift my gaze towards it.

About halfway between our group and the wall with the first tier of spectators is now a trail of scorched dirt. It runs in a perfect circle around us.

Shouts of approval rise from the shifters in the audience.

No one in our group says anything. Not even Tommen.

“The rules are simple,” Imar continues, and once again, I swear that I can hear the grin on his face. After pausing for dramatic effect, he finishes with, “There are no rules.”

Several shifters laugh from the audience.

“Stay inside the circle,” Imar repeats. “That’s the only thing you need to do. If you’re forced outside the circle, you’re eliminated.”

“Same if you get knocked unconscious,” Emperor Bane suddenly calls.

“Or killed,” Empress Jessina adds.

“Yeah, that too,” Imar says. He holds up a hand, counting off on his fingers. “If you’re outside the circle, unconscious, or dead, you’re eliminated.”

Dread spikes through me.

Suddenly, I’m starting to regret that I was ever annoyed at their fake generosity and that it took so long to get the real trials started. I’ll take dancing at a ball over this any day of the week.

“Once there are only forty people left inside the circle, I’ll call an end to the trial.” Wicked amusement creeps into his tone. “And you’ll definitely be able to hear it, even over all the noise.” Once again, he pauses for dramatic effect. “Because I’ll be in my dragon form.”

No one speaks.

Apparently, Imar had expected a different reaction, because his voice is laced with annoyance as he barks, “Begin.”

Then he shifts into his dragon form.

Black smoke billows across the stone ledge, and then a red dragon shoots out of it. He roars, the sound echoing through the arena, and then flies up to the top. Stones crumble and clatter down as he lands on the edge of the highest tier. His tail swishes impatiently through the air as he angles his head towards us.

For a few seconds, no one moves.

Then a thud and a wet gurgle cleave the tense silence.

I whip my head towards the sound.

Shock crackles through me, and I jerk back in stunned surprise as I stare at the scene before me.

Lavendera stands a short distance away. Her arm is outstretched. Two steps away from her, Maximus stares at her with wide eyes. A tree branch is buried so far in his chest that the sharp end sticks out of his back on the other side. He coughs. Blood sprays into the air and dribbles down his chin.

“I hate cheaters,” Lavendera announces, and then yanks the branch back out of his heart.

All hell breaks loose.

I throw myself sideways right as a blast of water shoots through the air in the space I was previously occupying. A short distance away, Maximus topples backwards and hits the ground hard. One more gurgle makes it out. Then his chest stills.

Shouts rip through the cool midday air as everyone lurches into motion. Within seconds, the arena floor has descended into chaos.

I roll out of the way as a block of stone flies towards me. Twisting up to my knees, I leap back onto my feet and then sprint away from the worst of the throng. I need space to think. To breathe. To come up with some kind of plan.

Because this is the worst possible trial for someone like me.

I don’t have battle magic. I barely have defensive magic. How the hell am I supposed to keep myself inside this circle?

Air explodes from my lungs as a guy with short blond hair slams into me from the side. The force of it sends me crashing down on the ground. I gasp, trying to suck air back into my lungs, as we smack into the packed dirt together. The hit makes my head spin, worsened by the lingering effects of the poison.

Twisting on the ground, I try to get out from underneath him and get to my feet. But the blond man has already shot to his feet and circled around me. I blink furiously, trying to figure out if the poison is still affecting my eyesight.

But then a memory from the power demonstration slams into me.

I don’t remember his name, but this blond guy has enhanced speed.

My stomach lurches as Blondie grabs me by the ankle and starts sprinting towards the circle. I cry out in pain as the muscles in my leg pull taut. Pebbles dig into my back as I’m hauled across the ground.

Panic crackles through me.

Throwing my hand out, I search desperately for the hilt of my knife.

The burnt line on the ground draws closer at an alarming rate.

I scream in frustration as I finally yank the blade out. My muscles are still weak from last night, but I throw everything I have into a desperate move as I curl up in a sitting position and slash the knife straight across his wrist.

A howl rips from his throat.

My body skids to a halt as he snatches his hand back. Blood runs down from the cut across the front of his wrist, staining his fingers red. I gasp in a breath and stagger to my feet. Small rocks that were stuck to the back of my shirt clatter down on the ground behind me. My head spins and my stomach rolls, even though there is nothing left in it to expel.

I drag in another shuddering breath as I sprint away.

But Blondie whips his head towards me. Rage burns in his eyes as he clutches his injured wrist. Then he takes off.

He moves so fast that I can barely track his body.

I dash across the ground, but I know that I will never be fast enough to escape him.

The scorched line looms just a few steps to my left. If he catches me, it’s over. But I can’t outrun him. I need?—

I screech to a halt and spin around.

Blondie is moving so fast that he doesn’t have time to adjust his course. He barrels straight into me, but I was prepared for it and twist with the motion, spinning him with me.

His increased speed works against him, and he practically flies across the arena floor as I let go of him.

He stumbles across the ground, cutting off his magic, but still crashes down on the packed dirt. Shooting to his feet, he whirls on me.

I grin at him.

Because he’s now outside the circle.

He growls curses at me, but I don’t have time to listen to them, because three more people are coming my way.

Channeling my magic, I push hard at a spark of calm in their chests.

Only an empty void meets me.

Shit .

Taking off across the ground, I run towards the other side of the circle while I push desperately with my magic at everyone I meet. None of them has so much as a single spark of calm emotion inside them.

Dread washes over me. How the hell am I supposed to keep them from attacking me?

A block of stone shoots through the air.

I leap back, barely managing to get out of the way. The guy who threw it aims another one. But right before he can hurl it at me, Lavendera slams an entire tree trunk into his slide. He flies away and hits the ground close to the circle. But before she can finish the job, Alistair throws a fireball at her.

Backing away, I try to make myself invisible. If I can just stay away from the fight, I’ll be fine. It’s not?—

Pain cracks through my side.

I gasp as a wave of agony rips through my whole soul.

It’s so intense that I barely even register that I stagger several steps to the side from the force of the blow.

With black spots swimming in my vision, I stumble and twist towards the source of the blow.

Tommen stands there, his red and brown eyes gleaming with menace, as he grins at me.

My brain fights through the fog of pain and lingering poison.

Tommen. The guy with enhanced strength.

Oh fuck.

He charges towards me.

I swing my arm, swiping my blade at his chest. It forces him to dodge and buys me a few precious seconds to drag air back into my lungs. My ribcage screams in pain at the simple movement.

Fuck. I think he might have fractured some of my ribs.

My brief seconds of grace come to an abrupt end as Tommen launches himself at me again. I try to twist aside, but the pain that spikes through my ribs at the movement makes me falter for a second.

And one second is all he needs.

His boot smacks into the side of my knee.

I scream in pain as my leg bends at an unnatural angle.

But it’s cut off as Tommen tackles me.

We hit the ground hard. I gasp in pain. Black spots cover my vision like a wild sea. Yanking my arm out from between us, I stab blindly towards him with my knife. His hand shoots up and wraps around my wrist right before I can sink the blade into his chest.

Pain streaks up my forearm as he grips my wrist so hard that the bones grind together. I cry out and try to yank my arm back. But he just rips the knife from my hand and then plunges it towards my throat.

I throw my other hand up.

But I know that I will never be able to stop his hand because I’m so hopelessly outmatched against his enhanced strength. So I don’t even try to reach his wrist. Instead, I aim for his throat.

The blade slashes along the side of my forearm on its way down.

But my fingers stab right into the front of his throat before he can ram the knife into my chest.

A choked gasp tears from his lungs.

The knife slips from his grip, clattering down on the ground next to me, and he releases my other wrist as both of his hands fly towards his throat. He sucks in strangled breaths, pain pulsing in his eyes.

I try to use that moment of inattention to escape. But he’s sitting on my chest. I barely manage to wiggle a little upwards before his eyes snap back to my face. Fury pulses in them.

And that’s when I realize that I will never get out from underneath him.

Yanking my arm up, I point up into the sky above us and scream, “DRAGON!”

He whips his head around.

And I push with every smidgen of magic I have.

My magic finds a tiny spark of fear, and I blow it into a fucking explosion.

Tommen screams in sheer terror and scrambles off me. While ducking the dragon that isn’t actually there, he sprints away.

For a few seconds, I just lie there in the dirt and gasp air into my lungs.

Pain slices through my chest with every breath, and it pulses through my left leg when I move it. Blood wells up from the cut along the side of my forearm, staining my shirt red and making my fingers slick.

All I want to do is to just close my eyes for a second. But I can’t. Because Imar hasn’t ended the trial yet. And I still need to win.

So I grit my teeth and struggle to my feet. Picking up my knife, I breathe through the waves of pain rolling through me and survey the battlefield. I try once again to force them to calm down. But it doesn’t work. No one feels calm as magic shoots through the air and people fight with fists and magic and everything they have.

Two people spot me just standing there.

I let out a vicious curse as they start towards me.

Anger and frustration rip through my soul. I can’t fight these people off. I don’t have that kind of magic. And with my injuries, I won’t even be able to outrun them anymore. I can’t fight. I can’t run. I can’t calm them down.

So I need to be smarter than them.

A sudden idea hits me like a lightning strike.

Spinning around, I search furiously for Alistair.

I find him close to the middle of the arena, throwing torrents of fire at people and forcing them farther back towards the circle.

The two people running towards me draw closer.

Clenching my jaw, I dart to the left so that Alistair is between me and them.

And then I channel my magic and push at the spark of anger in Alistair’s chest.

A gasp rips out of my lungs, and I almost lose the grip on my magic.

The pale red spark of anger inside Alistair’s chest is so intense, so massive, that it almost sets me on fire too. It shocks me so much that I can barely breathe. That is not the kind of anger that people feel on a surface level during a battle. The rage inside Alistair is the deep kind. The destructive kind that has been burning in his soul for years .

I raise my mental walls higher, protecting myself from his emotions, and then I pour even more fuel into that flaming rage.

He goes berserk.

Fire roars through the air as he attacks everyone in sight. I dart along with his movements, always keeping behind him. Cries of panic echo through the arena as people are forced to flee out of the circle to escape his flames.

I drag in desperate breaths, trying to block out the pain in my leg and ribs and forearm. But even despite all that, there is still a victorious grin on my mouth as I continue to manipulate Alistair’s emotions.

Because I don’t need to be the strongest or the fastest or have battle magic to win this trial. I just need to make someone else take out all of my competition for me.

Blood runs down my arm and drips from my fingers. I was already lightheaded before this trial even started, but now I feel as if I’m going to pass out any second. There can’t be that many people left now. We have to be close to forty. We have to?—

A roar cuts through the air.

It’s so loud that it almost shatters my eardrums.

I spin around and stare up at the red dragon perched atop the arena. Imar opens his mouth and lets out another deafening roar while his tail swishes pointedly through the air.

The battle staggers to a halt.

Wings boom and clouds of dust rise from the ground as Imar flies back to his empty section on the middle tier. He shifts in a cloud of black smoke and then strides out onto the edge of the platform.

“Congratulations,” he calls. “If you are inside the circle and still breathing, you’ve made it through the first trial.”

My knees give out.

Pain pulses through my limbs as I collapse to the ground.

Lying there on my back, I stare up into the gray sky above and drag in deep breaths. My chest heaves. My head spins. A few of my ribs are most likely cracked. Blood coats my entire left forearm. And I think I’ve torn one of the tendons around my knee.

But I made it.

An insane burst of laughter rips from my lungs.

I made it.

I survived the first trial.