Trial By Fire (Going Down in Flames #3)(60)

Bryn moved to intercept Jaxon before a battle of words ensued. She’d had quite enough conflict this morning, thank you very much, so she walked over to meet him. “Hey, Jaxon. What’s up?”

“What you said, this morning in Mr. Stanton’s class, did you mean that?”

“I said a lot of things. What are you talking about?”

“That if I said something about Directorate protocol, I was right.”

Where is he going with this? Bryn shrugged. “You’ve lived and breathed dragon politics since you were a kid. I figured you knew what you were talking about.”

“It’s good that you can acknowledge my superior intellect in these situations.”

Bryn’s mouth dropped open and then she laughed. Was he looking for some sort of ego boost? “Sure, you are superior in your knowledge of Directorate laws. Does that make you happy?”

He nodded. “Yes.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “I still fly faster than you.” She couldn’t let him get away with feeling too smug.

“I’m better with a sword.” He tapped his chin like he was thinking. “That makes the score two to one in my favor.”

What was he doing? “Sure. Two to one. Your favor. Go celebrate.” With that, she turned back to Valmont, Clint, and Ivy who were standing by the treadmills.

Valmont stood stiff, shoulders back, staring at Jaxon with suspicion. “What was that?”

“He was all happy that I said he was the dictionary of Directorate law.” Bryn shrugged. “I don’t know what it was about.”

“More like the douchebag of Directorate law,” Valmont shot back.

Clint and Ivy laughed.

“No argument there,” Bryn said. Although she couldn’t help thinking that what Jaxon had done in Mr. Stanton’s class showed he was a far better person than Ferrin, and for that she gave him a certain amount of respect, which seemed to annoy her knight.

“Are you worried I’ll be wooed by his obnoxious holier-than-thou charm?” Bryn asked. “Because that isn’t going to happen.”

“Of course not,” Valmont said, but there was an edge to his tone, which was only slightly less sharp than the blade strapped to his thigh.

Ivy clapped her hands. “Enough drama, people. It’s time to joust.”

A nervous, sick feeling pooled in Bryn’s stomach. “I don’t want to.” She hadn’t taken a turn on the joust since she’d been shish kabob-ed earlier in the year.

“A javelin through the thigh does have that effect on a person,” Clint said.

“But,” Valmont took her hand and pulled her toward the line, “sometimes you have to face your fears to overcome them.”

“I don’t suppose I could walk around my fears or ignore them?” She did a bob and weave maneuver to illustrate her point.

Valmont shook his head. “No.”

“Damn.” Bryn glanced at the pit with the foam blocks. Sweat beaded along her hairline as she remembered the wrenching ripping pain of the javelin driving through her thigh…all the way through. The image of the javelin tip protruding from her flesh featured in her nightmares on a regular basis.

Mrs. Anderson stood across the pit. “Bryn,” she spoke in her loud teacher-voice, which rang throughout the gym, “I was wondering when you’d be ready to joust again.”

Anyone who hadn’t noticed Bryn turned to stare. Students already in line eyed Bryn like they expected her to cut and run or make some sort of argument. Both of those options sounded better than actually jousting again, but she’d be damned if she let them know that. Apparently, Blue dragon pride trumped common sense.

“Don’t worry,” Mrs. Anderson added, “I cleaned out the pits and replaced the foam blocks this morning. Nothing pointy is waiting for you if you fall.”

“Good to know.” She’d just have to make sure she didn’t fall, ever.

Bryn climbed the ladder to the jousting platform, making sure to keep a calm expression on her face. This wasn’t a big deal. She’d jousted dozens of times. Nothing bad had happened. The sharp pointy metal javelin through her thigh had been a fluke. It wouldn’t happen again.

Once she reached the platform, she grabbed the jousting stick and did a few practice swings. Not a problem. She glanced at the foam pit below and fear banked the fire in her gut. She focused on snow and cold. Smoke drifting from her nostrils would give her fear away. Frost was a lot harder for any of those watching from down below to see.

“Are we jousting or not?” Her opponent, a Red female Bryn didn’t recognize, called out from the other platform.

Bryn planted her feet hip-width apart for better balance. “Let’s go.”

The Red swung, and Bryn blocked before delivering a blow of her own. The other girl wobbled and then struck at Bryn’s knees. Shuffling her feet, Bryn maintained her balance and swung at the girl’s hips. They traded blow after blow, with neither of them making much progress or giving an inch.

The girl swung widely and clipped Bryn’s temple, making her head ring. What the hell? That was out of bounds, and two could play at that game. Bryn thrust her jousting stick low between the girl’s calves and yanked sideways, lifting the girl’s left foot off the platform, causing her to pitch sideways, lose her balance, and take a header into the pit of foam blocks below.