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A loud crack of thunder sounds over the Summit, and in the distance, I can see the water begin to fall, focused solely on the Race area. I slump, stumbling backward towards any place to rest my weary limbs. Stone and Nihm are at my side immediately, each holding me by one arm.
Mace approaches with a glass of mead and a piece of chocolate to help restore my energy. “Great job. Let’s go see it in action.”
“You can take a break if you need to, you know. No one will blame you. That’s a lot of magic to course through your body,” Nimh whispers, sitting on the edge of the chair next to me in the command center.
“I’m okay,” I mumble, still not feeling fully myself. Casting my own magic would eventually take a toll, but the individual spells have such a negligible impact on my well-being that they hardly register after decades of honing. For some reason, conducting multiple disciplines never gets easier.
When I first began merging elements, it started with just Water. Despite it being unknown if Water is a subset of Summer or Winter, it is said to be compatible with both for spellcasting, and I have always been able to work with it. Molding Water with my fire of Summer is tiring, but in the way a good fuck is tiring. It leaves me feeling exhilarated and content to bask in an afterglow of the power. Combining with an element under another Seasonale, though? That is exhausting in the way a battle is exhausting. My body forces against it, rejecting the invader for what it is. I have never been able to contain any lesser magic but Light, Fire, and Water for more than a few seconds before it bursts from me, so I must set my intentions and target fairly swiftly.
Nimh pushes a dish with rich cheeses and nuts in front of me. “Eat,” she says, comfort and care in her tone. “You look like you’re going to keel over. We can’t have that - you won’t see the outcome of your hard work!”
“Our hard work,” I correct, popping a few nuts into my mouth and crunching down loudly. My face slips into a small, appreciative smile.
How in the world could she ever sleep with Mace? Nimh is a slow, babbling brook that caresses your toes as you cross. In comparison, Mace is a crashing tidal wave, destroying all in his path. I look to find him sitting with his feet crossed on the table, leaning back as if he doesn’t have a care in the world. It takes everything I have not to get up to kick his chair out from under him.
Nihm and I fix our gaze on the connection, where the storm has intensified and is now in full swing. A lightning bolt strikes a tree near an older man, causing it to split, engulfed in flames. Startled, he slips on the wet ground and lands with his leg bent at an unnatural angle.
The connection swiftly shifts away from him and lands on Mistflow and Mousy, seeking shelter under an outcropping of rocks newly constructed by my Geomancer friends. Mistflow’s braided hair is coming undone, strands plastered to the side of her face. Fresh cuts mark her arms, and I wonder what dangers she has already faced. I can’t help but feel a twinge of guilt seeing the injuries she’s already sustained. Mousy wears a grim expression, staring out from their makeshift shelter into the darkening sky.
Just as I anticipate the connection to switch to another gripping moment involving different Racers, my attention is captured by a looming figure emerging slowly from the depths of the outcropping, unbeknownst to the two women.
Chapter 10
Viola
Ihearhimwellbefore I see him. His hot breath seems to fill the small cave we managed to find before the storm got too brutal. It looks like we were not the first to find it. I try to get Max’s attention without letting the man know we’re onto him, but she’s still staring at the sky and angrily cursing the delay. I slowly reach for the blade at my hip, hand inches from the handle, when I feel a warm breath caress my ear.
“I wouldn’t do that, Viola.”
One of his arms wraps around my shoulders, pinning me against his chest. The amount of his body that has contact with mine makes me cringe. I feel each rise and fall of his chest intimately.
The voice is familiar, and I feel dread drift down my spine. His hand tightens around my chest, and his nose drags up the side of my neck as a familiar sensation trickles down my spine.
“Amio?” I spit, attempting to turn around to confirm my suspicion. His grip tightens further, and the closeness flashes me back briefly to the feel of his naked body on mine.
Max spins around, finally, and sees us. “What the fuck?” she shouts.
“What the fuck indeed,” Amio spits, pushing the tip of a blade into the base of my spine. “Didn’t Viola mention me? I’m devastated,” he deadpans. Max shoots me a look like I kept something from her.
I tense against the pressure of his blade, and though I try to fight it, my mouth will not keep quiet. “I am not in the habit of sharing every lousy lay with her.”
He pushes the blade, and I feel it cut my shirt and break the top layer of skin, a small bead of blood running down my spine into the top of my pants. “Big talk for someone who was panting my name,” he hisses in my ear. A manic laugh leaves my throat, much to the shock of Max. She must think I’ve lost my mind. Really, I just cannot believe that it’s less than half a day into the Race, and I’ve already got a knife to my back.
“Listen, Amio, we do not want to fight you. There is room in Ytopie for all of us. There is no need for this to get ugly,” Max says, palms turned toward the man as she slowly walks forward.
“It already got ugly. It got ugly when her parents left mine dead during the Race.”
My mind lights up with a memory from nearly twenty years ago, long forgotten now. A gangly, black-haired teenager, sobbing on his knees by the base of the Summit. My mother turned me away, telling me to let those whose family was expendable grieve in peace. I questioned how someone so young could have parents already expendable, and my father said, “There are many ways to become expendable, Viola.” The statement confused me at the time, but the situation I have find myself in brings forth startling clarity.
Did my parents kill Amio’s? Is that what this is about?
“I came to Dalery looking for your parents, and how lucky was I to fall right into your bed? It won’t be as satisfying as killing them, but you’ll do.” The arm around my shoulder slacks as he pulls the knife from the base of my spine to my neck.
My mother did not skimp on teaching me how to evade a hold, so while Amio glares at Max’s approaching figure, I slip from his grasp, drawing my dagger and pointing it directly at his heart.
“You may think you have me at your mercy, but you have no idea what I’m capable of.” I glower at him, teeth bared despite the rapid rise and fall of my panting chest.
“If you’re anything like your parents, you’re capable of murder,” he spits at me.
