Breath clogged in her throat. Uh-oh. She so did not want to deal with any of these creatures today.
It sensed something and stilled. As its beady eyes darted, she didn’t dare flash. The use of power might trigger its most aggressive instincts. It had in the arena.
If it alerted the wraiths to her presence...
It prowled around the space, sniffing the air. Blythe held herself immobile...it walked right through her, and she breathed easier. But then it walked through her again. And again.
She moved. It moved, too, seeming to stalk her.
This went on for one minute. Two. Three. It never missed a beat and never failed to find her.
She chanced a step toward a door, gauging its reaction. It jumped in front of her, blocking the way, daring her to escape. Its ears flattened, and its eyes darted.
Her frustration and annoyance intensified. The unibeasts were intelligent beings; they learned and adapted.
Should she wait it out or risk flashing to the bridge?
Would Roux storm the palace, searching for her, if he beat her to the meeting spot?
In the end, she decided to take a chance. Blythe flashed to to the edge of the bridge. She held her breath. No Roux. And no commotion at the palace. No stampede of unibeasts giving chase.
Relief cascaded over her—until the unibeast appeared right in front of her, with seven friends. Licking drool from their fangs, they circled her. She rolled back her shoulders and palmed a dagger. No choice. She had to fight.
“All right, fleabags. Who wants to die first?” she asked.
Tendrils of smoke curled from her skin, as if flames danced just beneath the surface. And mmm. The scent. Sweet and spicy, just like Roux.
Her eyes widened. The stardust was responsible?
The unibeasts snarled at her, gearing to attack. They leaped, and she braced. But at the moment of contact, they jolted and jerked, as if grazed by a cattle prod. They fell to the ground and shook.
Oh, yeah. Definitely caused by the stardust. What an amazing turn of events!
Just how powerful was her new armor? Grinning, Blythe kicked the creature closest to her. Nothing. No reaction.Verypowerful.
Roux appeared at her side, waxen and clammy. Her grin vanished. Silent, he gathered her close and flashed to the Oath Stones, where he collapsed to his knees. He looked up at her with wounded, questioning eyes.
“The dagger?”
A lump grew in her throat. “I’m sorry,” she croaked, dropping down to pet him. Fury sparked as she smoothed damp hair from his brow. She would absolutely be killing the wraiths of Ation. “I didn’t find it.”
He squeezed his eyes shut and gave a clipped nod. “Then we try again tomorrow.”
24
THE UNCERTAINTY
The next morning, the fourth day of the tournament, Roux cheered for Blythe from the royal dais. The combatants’ participated in some sort of endurance test known as “jazzercise.” They jumped, kicked, and flailed for almost an entire day.
The fifth challenge started soon after and it, too, stretched on. It was then that Roux clued in. The councilmembers obviously strove to keep him separated from Blythe. And they were succeeding. After the sixth and seventh rounds, he and the harphantom had enough time to catch a swift nap, nothing more. There was no discussing what had happened between them. No touching.
Heneededto touch her. To mark and claim her again. To know her desire for him hadn’t waned.
As the eighth battle stretched on, his taut nerves frayed. Blythe raced a dangerous obstacle course alongside nineteen other immortals; tension mounted inside him. Didn’t help that she had a chance to take out Carrigan and Lucca but spared them instead. The two were suspected accomplices of his greatest enemy, yet she showed them mercy? Why? And why did the wraith’s jewel remain firmly entrenched in the hollow of Blythe’s throat?
He didn’t want to doubt her desire for him but...doubt crept in.
What if she had welcomed his touch and eagerly offered her own to trick him? What if she’d faked her pleasure? Was there a better plan? Lure the besotted Astra into a false sense of security, then take him out when he least expected it.