Page 81 of Mud

“You’re going to be just fine,” Poppy whispered in my ear as she helped me put on a shirt, looking at me in the mirror on my closet door. When I refused to say anything, she proceeded to smooth nonexistent wrinkles down my arms, smiling all the while.

Always so damnpositiveand it pissed me off.

Couldn’t she see my face? Couldn’t she see all that I felt in my eyes? Because I could. It was clearly depicted in that mirror—my fear, my confusion, my survival instinct that wanted me totryeven now, even when I knew that the end was inevitable.

It still wanted me to fuckingtry.

I focused on the physical aspect of my person—my light blonde hair was combed back behind my ears. My eyes were a brown so dull I didn’t recognize them at all. They were usually much lighter, almost orange, just like my magic used to be.Fiery,Taland used to say.The embers that sparked me back to life.

My toes had curled then, and I’d found his words magical on their own.

Now, I just wanted to hide in a corner for the rest of my life until I wasted away into nothing.

My skin was dull, too, and the bags under my eyes were very prominent despite having slept for twelve hours straight. All that blood loss was no joke, apparently, especially when the wound had also been infected, and I hadn’t slept for twenty-four hours, had barely eaten, had fought catfairies and Iridians, and had been subjected to a shitload of Blackfire magic that had been about to fry my brain cells completely.

That’s not counting my emotional and mental state at all.

Funny how my grandmother didn’t talk about any of it. How she didn’t mention the Tivoux bothers more than once. How she wasn’t surprised that they were out there, that Taland had been with them.

Had they caught him?

My stomach fell all the way to my heels at the thought.

ThisI had no choice but to ask about.

“Did they…did they catch the Tivoux brothers?” I asked Poppy as she combed my hair next, humming that tune under her breath.

“No, they got away. I heard Mad-Mad complain about the agents they sent after you for not being able to track them properly,” Poppy said, throwing a look back at the door as if to make sure that nobody was coming through. “Apparently, they seem to have justvanishedinto thin air, but lucky for us, the agents were able to pull you out of that place without trouble.”

“Yeah,” I breathed in relief, despite my better judgment. “Lucky.”

“Don’t you worry your pretty head about a thing, Ro. They’ll catch that criminal. He won’t be able to hurt you anymore—especially while you’re in the City of Games. That place is better guarded than the White House.” She winked at me through the mirror.

She was right on that, at least. The City of Games was indeed very well guarded, and Taland and his brothers couldn’t get to me in there.

Too bad every other player who planned to win the Iris Roe at all costs would. Especially with my leg, which didn’t hurt so much anymore but wasn’t fully healed, either.

The next second, someone knocked on the door and opened it without waiting for a reply.

“What the hell?” I said, turning toward the man wearing a brown cowboy hat and a big leather belt on his jeans as he strode into my room like he owned the place—and he didn’t once look my way. Another man and a woman came in behind him, one carrying a suitcase, the other a whiteboard in one hand, and a tripod in the other.

“This is your surprise,” said Poppy from my side, clapping her hands as she smiled brightly at the stranger.

The stranger who had taken the liberty to tell his friends where to put that suitcase—on my vanity table, pushing back every bottle of perfume and some makeup items I had on there—and the whiteboard—in front of the middle window, right across from my bed.

“A surprise?” What the hell was she talking about?

“Yes—a surprise. Mad-Mad is not going to let you into the Iris Roe just like that. She’s going to prepare you first. Come on!” Grabbing my hand, Poppy pulled me toward the man, who’d finally looked up at me and, if I wasn’t mistaken, he was attempting tosmile.It just made him look like he was in pain or constipated.

“Miss La Rouge, Miss Rogan,” he said, tipping his cowboy hat. “I’m Billy Dayne. Pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“AgentLa Rouge,” I said, looking behind him at the boy and the girl, both possibly younger than me, as they settled everything in place—the documents that had been in that suitcase, as well as the weapons the boy was arranging on my table. Guns and knives and daggers of different sizes, at least thirty of them that I could count.

Meanwhile the girl had set up the whiteboard and was drawing something on it with a marker.

“Of course,” Billy Dayne said. “My apologies. I’m here under the orders of Madam Rogan to give you some tips on the Iris Roe. Please, have a seat.” And he waved at my bed likehewas in charge here. Like this was his room, not mine.

I shook my head, not entirely sure what to think, except that those weapons lookedreallygood. Those knives were sharp, and those magazines fully loaded.Lots and lots of bullets.

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