Page 25 of A Kingdom so Crimson

"No." I tore my hand free. Something about this all seemed uncomfortably wrong. "I know you want to make your uncle proud, but I can'tstayhere, Cal. I was trained for this, even if it leads me to my demise."

The longing that had adorned his face moments ago twisted into disgust. His jaw clenched as he glanced down at my books. "I need you, Eliah.And do you honestly think you'll come out victorious in this Match?" he scoffed. "Just look at how well you handled those beasts."

His words dripped with venom, piercing my heart. "You wouldn't last a day with Levon and his plans, but I can keep you safe!" he said, pointing to his chest.

Advancing towards me, he backed me against the wall. His eyes blazed with anger and desperation, a side of him I had never witnessed before, starkly contrasting his usual playfulness. He appeared weary, pained, and sad, as if he were grasping at straws.

I readjusted the books in one hand and pressed the other against his chest, attempting to push him back slightly and quell his rising fury.

"Cal,you knowhow I feel about this life. This might be my one chance atactualfreedom, not just wishful dreaming." His eyes narrowed, piercing into mine. "I have to do this,Cal. I couldn't live with myself if I letyoutake my place," I said, my voice trembling as I tried to suppress the overwhelming emotions, realizing that I was truly marching towards my doom and taking all my dreams with me.

I slipped out from under his hand, which rested against the wall, and began to ascend the stairs to my room, refusing to look back.

"You know I'm only trying to protect you!" his voice sliced through the air in a low, hissing whisper, mingling with grief andanger. I forced myself to glance back, seeing tears staining his cheeks, yet his eyes burned with nothing but rage.

My fury surged through me, a searing heat threatening to consume me. I clenched the books until the bindings dug into my skin. "I don't want your protection," I spat out.

The tension in the air crackled, the fire between us intensifying. Gritting my teeth, I locked eyes with him before continuing up the stairs, holding my head high despite the lingering pain with each step.

I slammed the door shut with a force that rattled the frame, locking it to keep him out. My heart pounded in my ears as I tossed the books onto my unmade bed, frantically scrambling to light the hearth, not caring that Jesri had forbidden it, even on the coldest of nights. Rules meant nothing now. I needed the fire. I needed something to burn as hot as my anger.

The spark caught, and the wood crackled as flames flickered to life, feeding on the air. My breath came in ragged gasps as heat surged in the room, letting it consume every rational thought. With a wild, reckless motion, I grabbed Calum's purple shawl andThe Dark History of Leonardian Trialsand hurled them into the fire as if they were poison I needed to purge. Seeing the words in the book burn as all those innocent Magics did.

The fire roared, devouring the book and shawl with a ferocity that mirrored my own. The shawl twisted and blackened while the book's pages curled and disintegrated, their essence reducing to ash that filled the room with a bitter, acrid scent. Soot clung to my yellow dress, smearing it with blackness, but I didn't care about the dress, the room, or anything else—I needed to see them burn. The flames' heat licked at my face as I watched it rage, begging to consume more as a twisted satisfaction brewed in the pit of my stomach.

I didn't need him or his protection.

All I wanted was the feeling of control.

10

The healer who checked my wounds assured me I'd be fully recovered by the week's end and removed the bandage from my head. Surprisingly, no blood transfer was necessary, and he marveled at how quickly I was up and moving, thanking my training for the agility. After he left, Aoife continued to scold me for building a fire in the room, which dirtied everything within. Since Jesri cut off the chimney, Aoife opened more windows to dissipate the smoke before Jesri found out, but it only seemed to circulate the sooty air more. Ignoring her protests, I quickly changed out of my dress and into my training attire, eager to clear my head.

"What are you doing?" Aoife asked, pulling at my training sleeves. "No, Eliah. You shouldn't train!" she protested, trying to stop me. I ignored her completely, shoving my feet into my boots and tying up the laces."Eliah!"she huffed with a motherly displeasure. "Please, you need to rest!"

I pushed her out of the way, already feeling remorse for my actions—but I didn't care enough to stay. All I wanted to do waspunch something, and if Darius hadn't put up a new bag, I'd find him instead.

I left the door open, racing down the back stairs, ignoring the ache in my leg with each pounding step. As I reached the bottom, the scent of musk from the sweat and rigor of Darius' men's earlier training sessions hit me. The training room lay empty, with the punching bag still absent from its usual spot. Frustration surged within me, and I couldn't contain my anger. I shouted out, the sound reverberating through the open space. I refused to suppress the fury; instead, I allowed it to consume me. Grasping a sword, I felt the coolness of the hilt in my hand as I struck out against the thick wooden beam, already scarred by numerous blade marks.

I slashed and charged, letting my anger guide me through the dance despite the rising pain and stiffness in my collarbone and leg. Frustration crackled off onto the blade with each forceful swing, urging me to play with it. The air around me turned metallic, prickling my arms with tiny bumps.

I cried out in frustration once more, slicing the beam again before I fell onto my knees, letting the sword rattle as it hit the stone. I clenched my hair, hyperventilating at the resounding grip of agony and despair that pierced a hole into my chest, my heart, and every fiber of my soul.

I sank to the ground, cradling my knees as tears streamed down my already sooty face. It felt like I was plummeting into that dark abyss of my dream, its inky blackness pulling me ever deeper into its grasp, with barely a faint glimmer of hope to cling to.

I brought this upon myself. I allowed myself to become too deeply immersed in emotions I couldn't manage, in dreams that would never be granted. No matter how hard I tried to pull or cut at the strings, I was still a puppet to them.

Calum's words echoed in my mind. How could I emerge victorious when all this was merely Jesri's cunning method to indirectly extinguish me, only to gain sympathy and admiration for himself while I suffered? It was all a façade—every aspect of it. Everything was orchestrated for Jesri's welfare, from the relentless training sessions to the senseless evaluations. It made me sick.

A brown, ruddy boot nudged my foot, signaling Darius's silent observation of my breakdown. Unmoved, I stayed curled up, indifferent to my undoubtedly wretched appearance—my face smudged with soot, scattered with minor scratches, and a prominent gash promising a lasting scar.

"Sulking on the ground like a child, hm?" Darius said, breaking the last tether of hope I clung to.

Gritting my teeth, I allowed the surge of anger to cut through me, but in my regret, I lashed out, inadvertently adding to the pain in my aching leg. Without thought, I swept my feet out, causing Darius to tumble to the ground, only to find me on top of him, ready to smash his head in. His quick reflexes intercepted my fist, yanking me back to the floor.

"Eliah—"

His voice was interrupted as I kicked back, knocking the wind out of him, and stumbled towards the daggers. With practiced ease, I flipped one through my hands. Anger surged through me like oxygen, igniting fierce flames within my blood and clouding my mind in a haze of fury.

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