Grace and Fury (Grace and Fury #1)(48)

Serina made a sound. Oracle had planned to sacrifice her?

The woman held up a hand. “Petrel told me not to. She said with just a little more training, you could win. She’d never seen anyone improve as quickly as you.” Oracle met Serina’s eyes at last. “She volunteered to fight in your place.”

Serina’s heart seized. “I—I—”

I never asked her to.

“Petrel wanted me to give you more time, and I have,” Oracle went on. “You’re a thoughtful fighter—some girls use instinct, but you use smarts.” She sighed, and for the first time, Serina saw a crack in the woman’s armor. “No one knows how you fight yet, which will give you an edge. If you’re smart, Grace, you can win.”

Serina couldn’t draw a full breath. She wanted to beg Oracle to reconsider. But who would be chosen instead? Jacana? Gia? Someone more experienced, another like Petrel, sent to die in her place? There was nothing Serina could say. Begging for her own life meant sacrificing someone else.

She’d told Jacana to trust Oracle’s judgment. She’d have to take her own advice.

Oracle seemed to understand her turmoil. She gave Serina’s shoulder a brief squeeze. “Take some time to yourself. It’ll be a couple hours before we head to the ring.”

The woman disappeared into the cave. Serina stood still for a moment, bands of fear tightening across her chest. Then she headed for the cliffs.

She didn’t stop until she could see the horizon, weighed down by a heavy bank of cloud. She’d promised herself she would escape. That she’d save Nomi.

But there hadn’t been enough time.

Serina stared straight toward where she’d seen the lights of Bellaqua, so far away, and shouted into the screaming wind.

Eventually, her voice gave out.

“Feel better?”

Serina didn’t turn around. “Hi, Val.”

With a little grunt, she sat down and dangled her legs over the cliff’s edge.

“You spend a lot of time at the edge of cliffs. You sure you’re not thinking of jumping again?” he asked.

“Why do you always show up when I’m here?” she asked, staring into the white froth below her feet.

“I’ve been making the rounds.” Val sat down beside her. “My orders are to let the crews know there’s a fight in two hours.”

Serina wiped her dirty palms on her pants. “Oracle already knows.”

“I’m sure they all do.” Val scooped up a handful of gravel and tossed it off the cliff into the waves. “But I have my orders.”

Despite her best efforts, tears skated down Serina’s cheeks. “It’s my day to fight,” she whispered, her throat thick.

Beside her, Val went still. “Already?”

Serina nodded. She stared at the waves dying beneath her, destroyed one after another against the cliff. “You were right about me,” she added, her determination failing her. “I am a dead girl.”

“Go for the crate,” Val said quickly, almost desperately.

“Excuse me?”

“The Commander’s throwing weapons into the ring today. Knives or bricks—he hasn’t decided yet. But whatever it is, it won’t be a threat. Not like the snake and the wasps.” He turned to her and put his hand on her chin, tipping her head up. He wouldn’t let go until she met his eyes.

“Don’t avoid the crate, do you hear me?” he said. “Get yourself a weapon. Go in hard and fast with every girl. Don’t think about what you’re doing. Don’t stop until you get the job done.”

Serina took in every detail of his face—the dark brows, the small cluster of freckles on his left cheek, the urgency of his expression. He really did seem to care whether she won or died.

“Serina? Are you listening?”

He was handsome, very handsome. She’d thought that before, but without staring him full in the face, the opinion had been based on fleeting impressions: a curl of his hair, a quirk of his lips, the muscles of his arms. Now she could see clearly, for the first time, how well his sun-browned cheeks complemented his wide, expressive mouth. How bright and discerning his eyes were. How concerned he looked.

Serina had never broken the law before. She was in prison for a crime that wasn’t her own. She had never rebelled. Never railed against her world, not like Nomi. And she was about to fight to the death. Probably her death.

Why follow any of the rules?

Serina touched Val’s face, her rough palm meeting the smooth skin of his cheek. He stopped talking. She leaned forward slowly, until their foreheads touched. He didn’t move away.

The warmth of his breath feathered against her lips. Her hand slid back into his hair, drawing him that last bit closer. An electric current flowed through her blood. Her skin tingled. Her heart pulsed in her throat.

Their lips met, soft and yielding.

He reached for her.

She pulled away.

His hands dropped to the gravel between them as she scrambled to her feet.

“Wait.” He grabbed her ankle gently, not as if he truly meant to restrain her. She broke the hold easily.

“I’m sorry,” she said, although she wasn’t. Not really. She’d always wondered what kissing felt like. She’d been prepared for the mechanics of it, but not the tingle in her blood or the heat in her belly when his mouth moved against hers.