Page 38 of Reign of Betrayal

After hours of following the trail, the sun starts to set. The air turns cool, and the wind is roaring through the trees, chilling us. Larah sees a rabbit, pulls her palm blade, and kills it. We stop to make a fire. My magic comes in handy for starting the fire, though we keep it small so the flame’s light doesn’t give us away.

We cook the rabbit and begin to eat it. I can’t shake the feeling that I am still being watched. I finish my food, looking around. I do not see the source of my discomfort.

“Do you feel that?” I ask Larah.

“Feel what?” Her brows and nose scrunch. “I still feel loopy from the drugs, if that is what you mean.”

I don’t feel off anymore. Maybe I’m being paranoid. “Nothing. Get some sleep. I’ll take first watch.”

* * *

Jolting awake,I realize I fell asleep while on watch. The shadows seem to scurry when I adjust my eyes. The moon is descending, and morning will be upon us shortly. Larah is passed out a few lengths away from me. I still have that ominous feeling of being watched. I stand, intending to walk a perimeter around us, but the forest’s deep darkness reveals little—only slices of moonlight pierce the trees’ patchy canopies. The fire has gone out, dwindling to embers while I slept.

The wind picks up, blowing my hair everywhere and filling my nose with an earthy scent. I hear a twig snap a few lengths away in the woods. I immediately turn toward the noise. I can’t see anything. Eyes straining in the gloom, I slowly back toward Larah. Using my foot, I gently kick her to wake her.

“Larah,” I say in a whisper, my voice low and gruff. She isn’t responding. I kick her a little harder. “Larah!” I say a little louder. She stirs, then sits up, and looks at me. “We aren’t alone. Get up.”

Larah jumps to her feet, immediately on guard, her palm blade in hand. “What do you see?” I take note of her, still swaying slightly.

“I hear them. I can feel that we are being watch—” My words fall short.

Suddenly, rustling leaves and snapping twigs grow louder, closing in on us. My breath hitches in my throat in anticipation of what or whom is heading our direction. Three male prisoners emerge from the shadows, illuminated by the moon’s dying light.

“Well, well, well. Let’s see how tough you guys are without your savior, Elm, here to protect you,” one of the men says, and the other two cackle evilly.

I immediately recognize one of the males as Jaime—the small one who had never used his magic before we came here—and two others: one a magic wielder, the other not. I flip my palm blade in my hand, cleave it back, and let it loose into the night. It hit its mark. The moonlight illuminates the area enough for me to see the blade go straight into the one magic wielder’s eye. He drops like a stone without making any more movements besides disturbing twitches.

“That wasn’t very smart, 7296,” Jaime says with a malicious smile, his white teeth bright in the dim lit forest. He starts running at me, hand out, palm up, and water hovering above. My heart is hammering in my chest. I don’t even think to use my powers when he gets close enough to attack.

Before he gets to me, I hear Larah and the other man fighting. Their grunts fill the air. Once Jaime reaches me, he immediately throws the water into my face, holding it there. My head is completely submerged in a pocket of fluid. I become disoriented.

I can’t breathe.

I don’t want to drown.

My lungs burn.

My heart is murderously pounding.

I can’t see in the darkness of the night sky, with only the moonlight filtering through the canopy and the water encircling my head.

My vision swims as I lash out, striking fiercely. A brutal punch lands on my right ribs and then my jaw, snapping my head free of the suffocating water bubble. I seize the moment, sucking in a quick breath, the fire in my lungs easing. Clarity returns, and I realize I need to back away. Jaime isn’t strong, and his reach is short. I flip down, rolling to escape, but I end up colliding with the dead man I already killed. Odd—I thought he was farther away. I reach down, pulling the palm blade from his eye socket. It makes a sickening suction noise, then pops as I dislodge the blade. When it comes free, his eyeball is still on the blade.

My stomach lurches. I think I am going to be sick. I don’t have time to think about the crash of waves in my stomach. Instead, I pluck the eye off, throwing it to the ground. It makes a tiny thud, then a rustling noise as it rolls into the leaves.Gross.

Jaime is playing with me. He thinks he can take me. I smile to myself, despite the pain in my right side and jaw. Circling him slowly, I hear Larah grunting… a lot. I need to check on her. She may be hurt. I continue to circle Jaime but head closer and closer toward Larah. I see I am close to the fire pit we made. I drop down quickly, calling upon my magic, lighting the pit to give me a better clue of what’s going on, and I wish I hadn’t.

The other massive prisoner is on top of Larah, holding her palm blade, and plunging it toward her trunk. Puncture wounds mar her shoulders and chest, though nothing appears immediately fatal. She has her hands braced against his, trying to stop the lethal blow, but she is struggling.

Ignoring Jaime, I rush at them, tackling the massive man off Larah. His blade slashes my upper arm, a sharp sting radiating through me. Warm blood trickles down, the metallic scent mingling with the forest air. But he loses momentum as I drive my palm blade between his fifth and sixth ribs, a lethal puncture. His blood gushes over my hand, warming my wet, cold body. I yank the blade out, blood splattering everywhere.

Quickly, I rise to my feet. Larah is up, fighting Jaime, but she’s barely holding on. Blood streams from her wounds. Jaime punches her, and she falls back. He turns to me, a victorious grin spreading across his face. He thinks he is the victor but has no idea I’m about to make him a victim to my ravenous rage.

I run. My feet swift, heart pounding. Despite being chilled, sweat is dripping off my brow and arm. Wait, that’s blood on my arm. I completely forgot, in the chaos, that my arm has been slashed. I attempt to tackle Jaime, but his little ass ends up throwing me down and getting on top of me. He uses his weight, trying to thrust the blade into a fatal blow. He is going to kill me, but I use all my strength to hold his hands in place as they slowly, but surely, inch dangerously closer to my chest.

Fiery rage ignites within me. I need to act now. Larah won’t be much help—she’s lost too much blood, and the lingering drugs have weakened her. The fire crackles in my peripheral vision. Fire.

I call upon my magic, channeling it to my hands. Flames burst forth. They are burning hot, bright, and fierce where I hold his hands back from impaling me with the knife. He releases a blood curling scream that rattles the forest as red angry blisters appear, and the smell of burning flesh fills our noses. It’s grotesque. It’s perfect.

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