Total pages in book: 214
Estimated words: 195876 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 979(@200wpm)___ 784(@250wpm)___ 653(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 195876 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 979(@200wpm)___ 784(@250wpm)___ 653(@300wpm)
My lungs burn for air that won't come. Panic rises, sharp and primal, as my body recognizes the danger before my mind can process it.
"That's enough!" Bastian shouts again, his voice edged with genuine alarm now. I can hear him speaking hotly to the instructor, their words blurring together as my consciousness begins to fray at the edges.
"Yield," Raith says against my ear, more quietly this time, and with a touch of urgency I wouldn't have expected from him. "Just yield." The last comes in a strained whisper.
And that's when it happens.
The strange warmth that's been building intensifies where our skin touches, like liquid fire seeping through my pores. It builds in my chest—a pressure that makes my ribs feel too small to contain it—then races through my veins, setting every nerve ending ablaze. My teeth ache with it, muscles spasming involuntarily as the energy surges through pathways I never knew existed in my body.
His body stiffens against mine. He feels it too.
At the same time, the instructors turn, locked in a heated argument with Bastian that's drawing more attention than our stalemate on the mat. No one is watching us closely anymore, their focus pulled to the more dramatic confrontation since I’m clearly outmatched.
"What are you—" Raith begins, voice tight with something between suspicion and disbelief.
The energy concentrates in my hands, drawn there by instinct rather than conscious thought. Tiny flames erupt from my skin, snaking around my body in intricate patterns and scorching Raith’s clothing with ethereal tongues of orange and gold.
His element, not mine.
I feel heat in my eyes and my mouth, gathering and threatening to rush out of me like a volcanic eruption I can't contain.
Raith recoils as if struck, his hold loosening instantly. His expression flashes from shock to something I never expected—pure, primal fear mixed with... recognition? In an instant, it's gone, replaced by his usual mask of control. But I saw it. For one unguarded moment, the mighty Raith Hollow looked terrified.
Is he afraid of fire? No, that can't be right. He's a fire affinity himself.
Then what?
The flames vanish as quickly as they appeared, leaving behind a residual warmth and a lingering smell of scorched fabric. Around us, the assessment continues, no one having noticed the brief flare of magic. If they did, they must have assumed it was Raith’s magic.
Raith recovers quickly, pinning me again with even more force than before, his body a rigid cage around mine. But something has changed. There's tension in him that wasn't there before—a wariness that borders on genuine caution.
"Yield. Do it, or I’ll make you pass out this time. Your choice."
I meet his eyes, seeing questions there that mirror my own. What just happened? How did I do that? Why did he react that way? The moment stretches between us, heavy with unspoken suspicions.
"I yield," I finally gasp, the words scraping my raw throat.
His face returns to its usual mask of cold indifference, but his eyes still flare hot as they track my every movement.
I roll to my side, coughing and gasping for air that burns in my raw throat. My whole body trembles with exhaustion, muscles quivering like I've run for miles without stopping. Sweat drips from my hairline, running across my face in tickling paths and soaking my clothes.
All I want to do is curl up and fall asleep right there on the mat, but I force myself to stand, pulling up my body that desperately resists my every movement.
Don’t let them see weakness. Not here.
"Winner, Raith," announces the fire instructor, who claps him on the back like they're already friends, oblivious to whatever just transpired between us.
The water instructor has already moved his attention to other matches, my poor performance clearly not worth his time. Maybe I lost so badly he doesn't even see the purpose in giving me advice.
As we step off the platform, Raith leans close, his breath hot against my ear. "Watch yourself, Saltcrest."
I'm too exhausted to produce an elegant response. All I manage is a choked "huh?"
His voice drops to a dangerous whisper that sends a chill down my spine despite his unnatural warmth. "You channeled fire. I saw it. I felt it."
I shake my head, heart racing anew. Admitting anything close to a vulnerability would be a mistake, so I say nothing.
"What are you?" he presses, one hand gripping my upper arm to keep me from escaping, his fingers burning against my skin.
"Sore, actually. From where you tried to choke me," I deflect, lifting my chin to meet his gaze despite the trembling that's started in my legs.
Now the suspicion in his expression shifts, replaced by a fiery, dangerous kind of amusement that transforms his features. "I could've done a hell of a lot more than make you sore, Thorne."
"Like what? Kill me?"
He considers my suggestion casually. "Maybe. If you give me a reason.”