Page 89 of The Ascended
"I don't understand how we survived." I said quickly, desperate to change the subject. "The creatures had us surrounded. They were going to kill us, and then they just... stopped."
Xül's smile turned sharp. He walked to where my trial clothes lay in a torn, bloody heap on a side table. Without ceremony, he picked up my leather pants and reached into the back pocket.
A small golden coin caught the firelight as he held it up.
The evasion ward. The one we'd made over a week ago. The one I hadn't seen since?—
"You," I breathed.
His smirk was pure wickedness. "Me."
Warmth rushed in as I remembered—his hands on my waist before the trial, his body pressing close, that deliberate touch.
"You grabbed my ass," I accused, narrowing my eyes.
"I prefer to think of it as strategic placement." He let out a laugh. "Though I won't deny enjoying the process."
"You—" I spluttered, torn between gratitude and mortification. "You could have justtold me!"
"Where's the fun in that?" He tossed the coin in the air, catching it with unnatural ease.
"Oh, I see. So my near-death experience was worth it for your moment of clever reveal?" I shot back. "How very princely of you."
For just a second, irritation flickered across his face—but he masked it quickly. "You survived, didn't you?"
"Barely. But I suppose that's all that matters to your grand plans."
"The power had dulled over the week," he said, examining the coin, but I noticed he didn't deny my accusation. “Still strong enough to give the creatures pause when they got close. Long enough for your brother to get you away, at least. It seems your binding covered Thatcher as well.”
"How long was I bleeding?" I asked, suddenly aware of how weak I felt.
"Too long," he murmured. "Another few minutes and you wouldn't have woken up at all."
The weight of that settled over me. I'd come that close to dying. If Xül hadn't slipped that ward into my pocket…
"Thank you." The words came out quiet and hoarse.
Xül's eyebrows climbed. "Don't get sentimental on me now, starling. I have a reputation to maintain."
"Right. Can't have people thinking the Prince of Draknavor has a heart."
"Precisely."
I shifted on the bed, trying to find a position that didn't make my calf scream in protest. The movement made my head spin again, and I gripped the sheets to keep from falling over.
"How bad is it?" I asked, nodding toward my bandaged leg.
"You'll live." He moved to stand at the edge of the bed. "Miria will be here later today to properly tend to it. She's been dealing with the other wounded contestants—there were several who needed immediate attention. Otherwise, she would have been here sooner."
I nodded, though everything still felt fragile and distant. "Why did you stay here?"
"Because I wanted to keep a personal eye on you." He crossed his arms. "The servants are well-meaning idiots who might have let my investment bleed out while they debated whether to disturb me."
"Your investment."
"Can't have you dying before you've served your purpose." But his eyes suggested his reasons weren't quite so clinical. "We'll have quite the show to put on at the end of all this."
"You sound a little too pleased about that."
