Total pages in book: 131
Estimated words: 121924 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121924 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 406(@300wpm)
He’d stayed reasonably close to me whenever we took breaks. I’d struck up conversations with others to use them as a buffer—I’d even gone as far as to speak to Seneca at one point, who surprisingly hadn’t been rude. But Talon had cut the talks short by either signaling for silence or ushering me away.
All of it seemed to be an effort to convey an Avoiding me is both stupid and impossible, you need to deal with it message. Or something like that. Whatever.
I ground my teeth as I noticed a swarm of gnats up ahead. Squinting, I pressed my lips tight together as we barreled through them. Oh, and how had I noticed them so soon? Well, the fog out here in the Pines didn’t seem quite as thick to me anymore. I would have thought it was courtesy of the ichor, but the other candidates still complained about the fog’s density.
I didn’t know what it meant that I seemed able to see better out here. I’d posed the question at Khalida who, much like Lear, had merely suggested I was becoming used to it. Personally, though, I didn’t agree.
I was reluctant to consult one of the Marshalls about it. They would tell Talon, who would tell the Sovereigns.
Talon, who was beginning to slow down, I then realized.
Relief gripped me in its claws as he continued to ease up his pace. Finally, he came to a halt. I did the same, panting like crazy. Planting my hands on my knees, I dragged in mounds of air so thick and heavy with moisture I was surprised I could breathe it in.
I couldn’t lie, I felt a little sick—mostly due to my headache, which was steadily getting worse. None of the ichor’s side-effects had yet faded, as it happened. As such, despite being so physically drained, I was still hyper-alert and would get surges of crazy restlessness at times.
The other candidates were in the same state—as evident by their constant fidgeting. I’d gotten damn good at hiding just how jittery and twitchy I felt, so I wasn’t watched as closely as those who’d openly admitted to feeling that way. But I wasn’t so sure that Talon was fooled.
I couldn’t really complain about the overabundance of energy that purred in my system—it was my main source of fuel right now. It was a relief to know that Xalbia was almost over.
Hearing puffing sounds, I looked up at Bevan. He was scrubbing at his face and lips, where silken threads of web still stubbornly clung to his skin.
Beside him, Seneca let out a teasing snicker. “At least you didn’t get a mouthful of gnats. I heard Atticus practically choking when we ran through the swarm of them—I’m pretty sure he swallowed a few.”
“I did not,” Atticus denied, sidling up to her, his eyes dancing. Eyes that hardened as they met mine.
Uninterested in engaging in a stare-out, I looked away as I straightened and pulled my water pouch from the pocket of my breeches. I tugged the pouch open and drained the contents with a series of short sips, needing to feel the cool liquid slip down my raw throat.
Having gone through weeks of Xalbia ordeals with me, my pouch was so battered it was a wonder there were no holes in it. It had done me proud for sure.
From the corner of my eye, I noticed Talon conjure a leather skin sack full of water—it was how we were all able to refill the pouches.
I hoped he didn’t also start conjuring weapons. See, we didn’t just trek or jog in such hellish terrains anymore. Once out here, we were usually given weaponry and ordered to defend ourselves against officiates. Bows, swords, daggers, maces—you name it, we’d used it.
Of course, Talon and the Marshalls waited until we were not only drained but midway through a break before springing this on us.
That they had us duel with people we could never defeat in environments where we felt unsafe at times we were exhausted and somewhere along the spectrum from roasting hot to freezing cold … it was all part of pushing us. Tiring us further. Eating at our morale. Beating us down to see how we handled it. And, in doing all that, drawing out the person we were deep inside, just as Ajax had warned.
Hearing a plop, I glanced over to see something move in the water. Probably an alligator or crocodile. Those things were the freaking kings here.
Dodging the moss that draped from a tree branch, Quillen made his way to Talon and took the conjured leather skin sack. The Lykaon then arched a brow at me as he stepped closer. “You need a refill?”
I swiped at the trickles of sweat that rolled down my face. The moisture stung my palm, which was scratched to shit from having to climb through deadfall. “Like I need air,” I said, holding up my empty pouch. My nose wrinkled as I spotted something. “Uh, you’ve got a leech on you.”