Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 73154 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73154 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
“I play drakopagon,” he warns. “You have no chance—”
But I’m already off, thundering up the path.
“You turn your corners too sharply and it startles your horse,” Calix says calmly.
I pat my mare and take the lead, guiding her along the misty path. On one side, a sheer cliff face looms, its rocky shelf vanishing into clouds. On the other—nothing but a steep drop, lost to the mist below.
“She’s used to pulling carts, not racing. You had the advantage—”
The earth moves.
A sudden, sharp jolt.
The tremors deepen, fast and violent.
“Cael, move!” Calix throws out a hand like he expects a shield to spring into place.
But nothing comes. He’s still blocked from the tournament spells.
Hooves clatter and echo off the mist-shrouded stone. Rocks break loose above us, tumbling down like a volley of arrows. One hits the cliff path with a crack, another explodes into shards near Calix’s mount, which stumbles and rears.
My mare’s eyes roll and she shies back; I grip the reins, trying to soothe her.
Something whistles past me.
A blur.
Pain explodes at my temple.
Everything jerks sideways.
And then—
Nothing.
I stir.
My head throbs.
A groan slips from me as I blink up at blurry painted images. They don’t make sense. Swirls and light, out of focus, shifting. “Where . . .” My voice scrapes up my throat.
More blinking. Gradually, my vision sharpens. A domed ceiling above me. Soft wall murals, glowing in the firelight.
We’re in a luminarium.
I wince and turn my head toward the fire blazing in a shallow pit in the centre—where a tithiscar would be, or a violet oak. A figure crouches beside it. “Maskios?” I murmur, rubbing my temple.
“You were knocked out,” Calix says without turning. “The path was blocked. We had to ride into the mountains.”
“We’re in the mountains?”
“I thought we could take the trail down the other side. But now that we have to camp, we may as well leave the way we came. Once my meridians reopen tomorrow, I’ll clear the road.”
I push myself upright with a wince and glance at Calix, his profile lit by the flickering fire. “We’re stuck here for the night?”
“Will that be a problem? Will Akilah be searching for you?”
“I told her to go home. She might only start panicking in the morning.”
“Then she won’t panic for long.”
“What about me?” I rub my temple. “Should I be panicking?”
Calix glances back at me. “Would you? So I might see what that looks like?”
I grin, then immediately wince.
“Your meridians are still intact,” Calix murmurs. “Heal yourself.”
I hardly need telling. I form a spell and steer it into my head. Relief floods in fast. I spring from the makeshift bed—Calix must have built it—and drop beside him at the fire.
Before he can put down his jar of liquor, I swipe it, lift it to my nose, and take a long, exaggerated sniff.
“I’ve never tried alcohol before,” I say, mischief warming me faster than the flames.
Calix reaches out to take it, but I twist away and chug down a good gulp. “Quite sweet.”
He yanks it back. “You’ll knock yourself out again.”
“You’re not secretly thrilled? You won’t have to deal with me for the rest of the night.”
I laugh and keep talking, warmth and adrenaline making my tongue loose. I edge closer to him as the air turns colder. When I finally bump against his side, I hear it.
A hiss of breath.
Pain floods the air around us.
I whip around and stare at his lap. “You’re hurt. Let me—”
He bats my hands away and shifts just out of reach.
“It’s nothing,” he mutters. “Just a few rocks. I’m fine.”
“This again? You won’t let me heal you because I’m par-linea? That’s ridiculous.” I roll up my sleeves. “If I’d known you were suffering, I would’ve healed you first—”
I summon a spell.
My hair flies up from the blowback. I blink, stunned, as fizzled magic crackles from my fingers. I try again. Just a fizz.
I freeze, horror blooming. “I . . . I can’t.” I look at him, alarmed. “It must be the liquor!”
Calix stares at me, and laughs. Really laughs. He reaches out and flattens my hair with his palm.
I go utterly still at the touch.
Our eyes lock.
Calix’s hand drops. I whip my head back to the fire. Such pretty dancing flames. Very interesting.
“So,” I say, throat tight, “have you practiced archery for a long time?”
“Since I could lift a bow.”
“Even though you can use magic?”
“Sometimes magic isn’t an option. We need other ways to survive. To fight.”
I glance at my hands. “Even to heal?” I frown.
“What if this happens again? When your magic fails?”
“I’d rather never drink again!” I groan.
We fall quiet.
After a moment, I shift my gaze toward the fire and murmur, “I desperately want to be a vitalian. It’s my dream.”
“Your only dream?” he asks quietly.
I nod. “If I ever stray from it, I hope someone will boldly plonk me back on the right path.” I tilt my head back, gaze rising to the smoke curling into the starry sky above the luminarium’s dome. “I think that might be true love.”