Gates of Thread and Stone(68)

Dust burned my eyes and settled in a bitter film on my tongue. This isn’t happening. I rose to my elbows, groaning.

Reev stalked toward the stands and reached into an empty seat. He withdrew a sword with a silvery blade.

“That’s illegal!”

“Hey! Stop the match!”

I could hardly hear Tariza and Grene shouting behind me. My awareness had narrowed on Reev, moving closer, raising the blade at his side. Sentinels aimed for a clean strike. Mason had said so.

“Reev,” I whispered. “Stop.” This couldn’t be right. I had just talked to him last night. No. No no no.” We had a plan. Don’t you remember?” What should I do? I don’t know what to do.

“Get up! Kai, get the drek up!”


Avan’s voice jolted through me. I scrambled backward, my palms sliding against the dirt. The scrapes stung. I glanced toward my boot where the knife was hidden, but every instinct I possessed repelled the very thought of reaching for it, of using it against Reev.

Reev didn’t hesitate, though. He followed me and swung his blade.

I threw my mind against the threads. Time crawled nearly to a stop. This close, his eyes were clearly visible. They were hollow. Devoid of emotion or thought. He intended to kill me. No one rushed onto the arena floor to stop him—not the announcer or the other sentinels. This had been planned.

I blinked away tears. I only wanted to save him. Everything I had done had been for Reev.

And, if I was honest, maybe a little for myself, because I didn’t know how to be without him. It was pathetic, a seventeen-year-old girl this scared to be alone. Even now, with his blade blurring the air in slowed time, I couldn’t give up. I had to believe in Reev, I had to—

Time snapped forward. I flinched, watching Reev’s face. With time speeded up, this would be quick.

Reev’s blade flashed, followed by a streak of movement. A ruffle of black tunic. A spray of red. A cloud of raised dust.

Time adjusted itself. I stared up at a broad back. Avan knelt in front of me, his head bowed. Blood spread out around him in a crimson fan. Then he slumped to the side and hit the dirt with a thud that echoed in my chest.





CHAPTER 33




“AVAN!” I SCRAMBLED to my knees and gingerly rolled him onto his back. His body was limp. “Avan.”

There was so much blood. He looked pale. Ashen. Why wasn’t he healing?

“Wake up, Avan. Come on, please, please, wake up.” Heal, damn it! Why won’t you heal?

Because healing wouldn’t work after he was already—

I searched frantically for the medic, but no one had stepped forward to help. What was wrong with everyone? Two sentinels led Reev out of the arena. I couldn’t breathe.

Tariza and Grene were trapped halfway over the box’s barrier. More sentinels had appeared to block their way and herd them out of the arena.

Avan drew a shuddering breath. I almost fell over. He wasn’t dead. I brushed the hair from his temple. His skin was warm. A line had appeared between his brows, his lashes fluttering as he tried to open his eyes.

“Don’t move,” I said, my hands hovering over his chest. I didn’t know where to touch him without hurting him. “Don’t—”

I realized his chest was no longer bloody. As I watched, bone, muscle, and skin knitted back together beneath the gaping hole left in his tunic. Nothing remained but smooth skin, marred only by the ragged black branches of his tattoo.

I gave him a bewildered look. Could all descendants heal like that? From a wound that would have killed anyone else? A wound that, for a moment there, had killed him?

He wouldn’t meet my eyes. He rolled away from me and stood. I watched him, my mouth agape.

“What the drek?” I said, louder than I intended. Avan reached over and pulled me up. He smoothed dust off my cheeks. I shook away his touch. Pain flashed in his eyes at my rejection.

“There’s something I need to tell you,” he said.

“What just happened?” I couldn’t stop staring at his chest. The tear in his bloodstained tunic and my pulse pounding in my ears were the only evidence he had been wounded.

“But I think an explanation will have to wait.”

More sentinels had surrounded us. I whirled around, backing up against Avan’s side. His hand clasped mine and squeezed.

“You’re not dead,” I whispered, focusing on that truth. I pressed against him.

“I’m not dead.”

“Stay that way.”

He swept his thumb along my knuckles. “You got it.”



They flanked us through the halls. Cadets stared as we passed. Grene and Tariza were nowhere to be seen. I hoped they wouldn’t be punished just because we were assigned as their teammates.

I clutched Avan’s hand as tightly as I could as we descended a hidden flight of stairs. The sentinels moved with the same liquid grace as Mason’s, passing over the polished stone steps with a whisper. At the bottom of the stairs, someone grabbed my arm and pulled me to the left. Avan was pulled to the right.

Our linked hands broke apart. Avan nodded at me reassuringly and then turned away.

A sentinel took me through a small room that connected to a cell. The cell was square, with white walls and a vent in the corner. A candle burned in a simple metal fixture on the wall, the flame trembling as the door shut behind me. The room was empty except for a cot that, while small, took up nearly an entire wall.