Page 42 of Anchor

Now I saw red. “She’sa kid,” I hissed, and my magic reacted in a way that I’d forgotten it could. Bright red flames danced on my knuckles as I tightened my grip around the handles of my bike, and I didn’t notice until the color, so damn vivid, demanded my attention. Alloftheirattention, too.

“Let her go,now.”

Nobody was laughing or chuckling anymore. The other guards even stepped farther back. I had never—neverbefore in my life spoken to a guard or to anyone at all like that before. I’d always held back, always kept my mouth shut, so I had no idea how freeing it could be to just speak my mind and not hold the anger back when it wanted out.

My magic hurt. It fucking hurt as it traveled down my arms without my even thinking it, and it really was more vivid than it used to be.

The guard let go of the girl, though reluctantly. She didn’t hesitate—she jumped on the back of my bike and wrapped her thin arms around my waist tightly.

It shocked me, how quickly she moved, howfullyshe hugged me. No hesitation; no holding back.

And I moved, too, before that asshole had the chance to stop us again.

I barley remember how I drove to the gates and showed my badge to the guard in the cabin. He must have been the same one who let me through earlier in the day because he said,I thought your wallet was lost while you were being tortured in a basement, he he he.

I ignored him, didn’t make eye contact at all, and I drove out.

Reporters, only a few, took my picture using their flashes, but I didn’t even bother to turn my head toward them. I went all around the fence of the building and to the front, where a lot more of them were basicallycampingin front of the gates. I didn’t stop, didn’t look anywhere but at the road ahead for the next five minutes, thinking,no way is this real.But the arms of that girl were still tightly wrapped around my waist and they were pretty real.Thereevery time I glanced down.

When I spotted a dark enough alley at the edges of the city with barely a few people coming and going, I decided to stop. Enough light still reached us from the street in there, so when the girl jumped off and took the helmet off, I saw her perfectly fine.

She pushed back her hair furiously as she looked at me with eyes wide and flushed cheeks. “Hi. Hello, hi,” she told me, and I myself had to fix my hair because the wind had made a mess out of it.

“Hello to you, too,” I said, not entirely sure what the hell to even say to her yet, so I went with, “What’s your name?”

“Taylor,” she said, pulling down the sleeves of her brown shirt. Now she was nervous, and it showed in every small movement. “I-I’m Taylor Maddison.”

“I’m Rora,” I said but didn’t offer her my hand for fear I’d make her even more uncomfortable.

“Yes, I know who you are,” the girl said.

“You do?” Which made sense because the guard said she’d snuck in through the gates for me, but…

“Yes. Mhm. I know everything about you. You were Mud and now you’re not—I saw your magic. You were Mud and you won the Iris Roe, and when I grow up, I’m going to do the same. I’m going to win the Iris Roe and I’m going to get my magic and my money, and my family and I are going to get arealhouse to live in,” she said in a breath. “I just need you to teach me how.”

Fuck.

I blinked my eyes slowly—surprisedis a mild word. “That’s…that’s, uh…” Literally speechless. I had no words.

“Teach me,” the girl said, and she took a step closer to me, her voice unwavering. Shedemandedit, not just said it. “All I need is for you to teach me how to do it, and I’ll prepare, and in the next Iris Roe?—”

“How oldare you?” I cut her off, still trying to make sense of this—ofher.

“Fourteen and a half,” she said in a defying manner, like she was expecting me to argue with her about it.

I shook my head. “You’re fourteen years old and you’re thinking about the Iris Roe?” At that age I don’t think I even knew the game existed.

The girl raised her chin. “Fourteenand a half,” she reminded me.

Laughter burst out of me out of sheer surprise. She was fourteenand a half—and she wanted me to tell her how to win the Iris Roe, and I don’t know why I found that so damn funny.

“Just…just help me,” she said, while I still laughed. Leaning against the seat of my bike, shaking my head at myself, I still laughed. “I’ll be eighteen when the next Iris Roe begins—I’ll be eligible.”

It kind of broke my heart when she said that, and my laughter faded. “Eighteenand a half,” I said—a bad joke, but I thought she might smile.

Instead, she flinched. “It’s my only chance,” she said, and it killed me a little bit—how she stood tall and kept her chin up. How she fisted her hands so I wouldn’t see them shaking. How shemeantevery word she said.

“The Iris Roe is a death trap,” I said, defeated, only now realizing that she really did mean all that she said. This girl wasn’t kidding—she’d actually thought this through.

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