Page 224 of On Wings of Blood

Two days later, I sat on my bed in the First Year dorm, knees pulled up, arms wrapped around them. Beside me, Florence leaned against my side, her head on my shoulder. We’d both been crying.

The weather reflected both our moods. Storm clouds were gathering outside the diamond latticed windows.

The skin around my eyes felt as if it had been rubbed raw from all of the tears I’d shed since the Games had ended.

But the tears weren’t the worst part. What I couldn’t escape was the guilt that twisted inside me like a knife, sharp and relentless.

Florence shifted, wiping at her red eyes. “I can’t believe he's really gone,” she whispered, for what must have been the hundredth time that day.

I slipped my arm around her. This wasn’t about me, I reminded myself. It was about Florence. It was about Naveen’s parents.

I’d already started writing the Sharmas a letter. Florence said she’d write one, too, and we could send them together.

“A few days before the Games,” Florence said suddenly. “Naveen said he had something to tell me.”

I froze. “He did? What did he say?”

“I think you already know.” Florence's voice was small. “He said you’d already guessed.”

“Oh, Florence.” I sighed. “He told you how he felt about you?”

I felt her nod. “He told me he loved me. I didn’t know what to say. I told him... I told him I needed time to think.”

Her voice cracked and I tightened my hold on her.

I felt her start to sob. “But I'll never be able to talk to him again now. I asked for time but he had no time left. I didn’t know.”

My throat constricted. I wanted to comfort my friend, wanted to say the right words.

But every moment we sat here together it was all I could do to keep the torrent of guilt from slipping out of my throat.

It was my fault, I silently chanted. I’m sorry. It was my fault. I did this. Forgive me.

I’d saved Florence. I’d doomed Naveen.

How could I ever tell Florence any of that? How could I tell her I’d somehow made a choice that had cost our friend his life?

I swallowed hard. Even so, my voice trembled when I spoke. “Florence...” I shouldn’t ask. I didn’t really want to know. “Were you in love with him, too?” The words tumbled out.

There was a long silence. I hated myself for asking.

“Never mind, you don’t have to answer that,” I said. “I’m so sorry for asking, Florence...”

“I... I don’t even know,” Florence whispered, interrupting. “I didn’t have a chance to figure it out. I thought there would be time. I thought maybe we could try...”

She broke off, turning her head and burrowing it against my shoulder.

I bit my lip hard enough to taste blood.

Naveen was gone. Florence had lost her chance. What if this was it for them? True love. What if they’d been meant to be together and now they’d both lost their chance at happiness?

If it hadn’t been for the crown, Naveen might still be alive. There were other kids like him, students who hadn’t passed the year at Bloodwing, who were being kicked out in disgrace but hadn’t been killed. I’d heard most were being sent to highblood households to work as servants. Indentured labor. It was horrible, but at last they were still alive. They hadn’t all been sent to be slaughtered in that domed arena, as sick tests for us to pass or fail.

There was a soft knock at the door.

We both tensed. Florence quickly wiped at her eyes with one of the many handkerchiefs littering the bed. But it was no use. Her face was flushed and blotchy. I was sure mine was no better.

I stood up stiffly, my limbs heavy from sitting for so long.

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