He strikes so quickly, the black blade whistles when it swings. I parry, catching the broad side of his sword against the hardest part of my own—the forte—and leap back.
Vaughn spins his sword once with a smile, as if to remind me what his weapon can do. The Order’s practice swords aren’t steel, but they’re plenty heavy and wide. Strong enough to break a bone with a well-aimed hit.
He surges forward. Brings his blade down in an overhead strike. I raise my sword to block it, but he stalls—then leans back and kicks me hard in the stomach.
I stumble, my midsection a dizzying cocktail of nausea and pain.
Vaughn sweeps in—I just barely turn my sword to meet the low hack at my legs.
Then he charges again, swinging, and it’s a basic drill, just a twist of my wrist to deflect.
Too easy.
I cough, and blood—iron rich and salty—fills my mouth. Feral humor glitters in Vaughn’s eyes. Understanding dawns.
That kick was well aimed. Strategic.
Every movement, every twist and stretch and pivot, is ten times harder with internal bleeding.
He’s toying with me.
Everything—Vaughn’s face, the trees, the ring—blurs under the veil of white-hot fury.
I shift my grip, preparing for a two-handed blow to his ribs, when Sel’s last lesson echoes in my ears.
“Typical anger can hinder or help. But the kind that burns in your gut? That’s fury. And fury is meant to be used.”
I strafe, twisting left, then pivot. The flat of my blade smacks his fingers hard, breaking his grip. Both swords drop to the ground.
Vaughn looks up, shock crossing his features, and lunges for me, but I’m already in the air.
His momentum carries him forward—right into my flying knee.
His head snaps back.
His spine hits the mat, and blood streams across his nose and mouth.
For a second, the woods are completely silent.
Then Russ jumps to his feet and whoops, triggering a wave of shouts and applause.
Vaughn rocks slightly, his hands covering his face. But he doesn’t get up.
“Match to Matthews!” Gillian calls, an astonished smile lighting her face.
At some point, Nick had gotten up from his chair and approached the outer ring. He stands there, feet just touching the red paint, wearing the most beautiful smile I’ve ever seen. I take a stumbling step forward. Triumph fizzes in my chest; I could burst with it.
Nick’s gaze locks into mine, his eyes widening and smile falling. He roars my name.
Vaughn’s blade swings down in my peripheral vision.
I hear the deep crack in my collarbone before I feel it.
When the pain comes, darkness follows. There’s shouting, then silence.
36
I WAKE UP once before William’s done healing me. I must have done something I shouldn’t—tried to sit up, tried to talk—because firm hands hold me down.
I slide back into a murky, aether-induced sleep.
* * *
When I open my eyes again, I’m in an empty, windowless room lit only by a small lamp. The digital clock on the wall reads 10:17 p.m.
My left fingers fly to my right collarbone, where there’s a steady, pulsing ache. Stiff paper crinkles when I touch it. I pull it away, expecting a bandage but instead find two yellow sticky notes.
Clean, oblique fracture to the r. clavicle. Hit you hard with swyns.
Will heal in a few days.
Wear the sling.
Min. healing time w/o aether? = 8 wks, + physical therapy.
You’re welcome.
William
P.S. Mod. intra-abdominal bleeding.
Healed, but STAY PUT.
P.P.S. Nick wanted to stay.
I told him to go on to the airport
since you’d just be sleeping.
GO BACK TO SLEEP!
“Sorry, William,” I whisper. “Got a boy to see.”
It’s only after I’m in the elevator that I realize I’m going to have to walk down the very public upstairs hallway of the second floor of the Lodge in order to get to Nick’s room. This realization takes me so off guard that I accidentally get off on the first floor and run right into Sarah.
“Bree!” A wide grin spans her face and she bounces on her heels under her skirt. “What are you still doing here? Do you need a ride home? I could drive you back to your dorm, no problem, easy peasy!”
I narrow my eyes. “Are you talking faster than normal?”
She flushes pink and bites her lip. “I think so?”
Realization hits me then. Everything about Sarah is brighter, and I swear I can actually see her vibrating. “You’re bonded to Tor now. You have Tristan’s speed.”
She tilts her head back and forth. “Technically, I have Tor’s speed. She has Tristan’s speed. But yes! Wait.” She frowns, and the cogs in her mind turn faster than ever. Her eyes grow wide. “You’re waiting for Nick, aren’t you?”
Voices reach us from the dining room and the living room. “What if I am?”
“Oh, I think you two are a cute couple. Do you want something to drink while you wait?” She’s already walking down the hall under the staircase toward the kitchen, so I follow.
The Lodge’s bright chef’s kitchen is empty when we walk in. I’ve never actually been in here before, since most of the meals are catered in, and very few of the Legendborn seem to cook for themselves. It’s a large, square room with white cabinets, two stainless steel fridges, a gas stove on a center island, and gleaming gray-and-white quartz countertops. Sarah pulls out two glasses and fills them with water while she talks.
“People are such gossips around here, but honestly, it’s not a big deal that you’re hooking up with Nick. There are some Pages who might be jealous. Ainsley, for one. Sydney. Spencer too.”
I settle into a bar stool, cradling my shoulder in its sling. “Wonderful.”
“Nick lost it on Vaughn, by the way. Kicked him out of the tournament. Said there’s no place for vengeance at the Table.” She shakes her head. “Vaughn thought that being the best combatant made him the best Squire for Nick, but it doesn’t work like that. It’s not just the fighting. It’s the match.”
The way she says that last word, the emphasis she puts on it, reminds me that she’s got more than Tor’s speed now. She has access to her emotions. She’ll always know when she’s in danger. They’re in sync now and forever.
And her life span has just been capped. I can’t think of a polite way to ask how she feels about the Abatement, so I ask another question instead.
“What does it feel like? To be bonded?”
She considers my question. “Tor and I were already bonded in a way. We’re in love, so I thought this would feel like more of the same, but it’s not. It’s deeper. More intimate. I don’t know how it feels to other people. Maybe it depends on how long they’ve been bonded or how well they already knew each other.”
“How long have you and Tor been together?”
“Couple of years. Before that she was with Sel, and I was still in high school.”
I hadn’t forgotten William’s revelation, but now that it’s out in the open… “About that… I’m having a little trouble imagining it.”