Page 94 of War Hour
He doesn’t mention his father may deny our request, but I appreciate the optimism from him. All I have to contribute is the worst-case scenario, so I will take his hope gladly.
I nod into his chest before pulling back. “Let’s go. I’m ready,” I sigh.
It isn’t hard to like Lord Gennady, who is kind even when difficult. But it doesn’t make it easier to ask for such a monumental favor. I’m the poisoned fruit he’d be willingly bringing into protection, and who knows the potential ramifications of that.
Evander tucks my hand into his arm, helping me along as I limp, ankle more swollen than the day before. I decide to let him.
“Actually, I’m trying to schedule us a meeting with Lord Gennady, but he seems to have limited availability. But we will soon. I promise.”
I nod, not even questioning he will, but my heart still sinks. After standing with me during the judgment hearing, did Lord Gennady still feel the same after the result? The sooner I could talk to him, the better.
The guards systematically placed throughout the capital watch me as I pass. Their eyes following as if they expect me to start the next war if I even so much as breathe the wrong way. Itbothers me at first. But then I remind myself it’ll be harder for someone to kill me with so many attentive witnesses.
Evander looks at me with a bright smile. “I figured I’d take you to a healer to get your ankle and that gash looked at,” he says, nodding to my arm.
“And you think Lady Ivianna will have her healers work on someone she thinks committed treason?”
“Maybe not,” he says, and my shoulders fall. But then he nudges me. “But I know where there are two capital healers right now that she has no control over.”
Visha throwsher finger blades across the pitch of the arena with honed velocity and guaranteed destruction. In smooth, practically unnoticeable movements, she pulls each blade from the sheaths on her vest, before twisting them in her fingers. Her narrowed eyes survey the moving target in front of her, before lashing out.
I hold my breath as she throws them, grateful for the metal cage that separates us.
The moving target of mention—Neith—climbs the wooden framing of an archer’s peak. He leaps from beam to beam, narrowly missing Visha’s attacks as her blades hit the wood will a dull thunk.
“I’m almost there!” Neith shouts, grinning over his shoulder. “You’re not losing your touch, are you, V?”
How could they joke and tease, knowing with one misstep, their lives could be at stake? As if having healers on standby is a free pass to throwing all caution out the window. Having come from a court who didn’t even know healers existed, I couldn’t imagine so easily taking the same risk.
Visha, from her spot on the sand, rolls her eyes before throwing another blade that catches the hem of Neith’s pant leg. She bites her cheek, hiding away the beginnings of a smile.
I no longer feel safe behind the cage. With Visha’s pinpoint accuracy, she’s skilled enough to make it through the small squares of the fence without trouble.
Neith, on the other hand, doesn’t flinch as the blade pins the fabric to the wood. Easily thirty feet in the air, hanging only by his arms.
Neith laughs, throwing his head back at his unfortunate position. He drops until he can sit on one of the wooden crossbeams before reaching for the knife impaled in the wood. Once in his grip, he flips the knife, sending a cheeky grin at Visha.
Evander opens the cage door, stepping through as it creaks loudly. Neith’s attention flicks to us, his eyes hardening as he stares me down. “Target on your six, V.”
Visha spins on her heel, flinging a blade in our direction before she even sees us. Unlike her offensive attack against Neith, she doesn’t aim to miss.
There isn’t the time to look at Evander for his reaction. As the blade soars toward my head, nothing can stop it from hitting its mark.
With only a breath to decide, I raise my shield, adrenaline pumping through me. The force field hums in my bones as it solidifies, feeling stronger than I do myself. The blade hits the shield with a patheticthwackbefore falling into the sand.
Immediate threat diverted. My gaze shifts from the blade to Neith and Visha. Both of them examine me with renewed suspicion, blinking when I release the shield.
Evander doesn’t seem fazed by his first glimpse at my power. He quickly checks me over for injuries before leaning in to mutter, “Go see the healer. I’ll handle this here.” Before I canrespond, he’s stomping across the pitch. “Trials, Visha.” Evander curses. “What was that? It was headed straight for her.”
Neith swings down from the riser, landing in the sand. He rubs his hands together, dispelling any sand from his palms before resting his fists on his hips. “Valor shouldn’t be here. Not in the capital, but even more so at Heir training.” Neith sends a burning glare in my direction, cocking his head with something akin to curiosity. “Although I suppose I can’t call her that anymore—being exiled, and all that.”
“Plus, I wanted to see this shield that Drytas mentioned,” Visha adds.
I try to pretend I don’t hear them as I walk to the underground arena’s waiting area, where Evander said we’d find the healers.
Gritting my teeth, I put every effort into walking without a limp, even when my ankle threatens to give out. I already have enough people aiming for my throat. I don’t need to show them a single ounce more of weakness—more than they’ve already seen, at least.
Even as I pass the other Heirs, I keep my gaze locked forward. Bash calls out to me when I pass him and Jona engaged in a fist fight. I just tuck my head in and continue with what I came here for.
