Trail of Lightning (The Sixth World #1)(75)

“Was it that long? You seem none the worse for it.” His eyes travel over my chest, so much of it bared by the shirt. “In fact, I think it did you well.” He grins big, flips his hair back over his shoulder. “Maybe you should thank me.”

“Fuck you,” I spit. Roll and swing my knife, plunging it into his leg.

All humor drains from his face and he grits his teeth, holding back a howl of pain. He grabs me by the forearm and plucks me off the ground. For a moment I dangle at the end of his reach like a fish on a line, and then he tosses me away.

My arms pinwheel as I fall, but I manage to catch myself on my elbows instead of flat on my back this time. My head snaps back painfully, but I still hold my weapon.

His dagger hilt comes down brutally, and I feel something shatter in my wrist.

I scream and my fingers release with a spasm of agony. With a kick he sends my B?ker skittering across the pit, out of reach. I drag my useless hand in close to my chest and try to roll away. He pins me, straddling my stomach, keeping me on my back.

I lift my hips and throw my legs up around his chest, trapping his arms. He tries to break free, but I hold. I rock my hips, forcing him down, as the same force raises me up. For a moment we sit entwined, face-to-face.

I have the advantage, but my hand is useless. I do the only thing I can think of. I slam my forehead into his nose. Blood spurts and he roars and break his arms free. As if I weigh nothing, he throws me across the arena.

I crash into the dirt, shoulder crushed at impact, head bouncing off the ground. I lie there, stunned. He’s playing with me. Of course he is. Even with all my clan powers, I am no match. This is a game to him. But now I’ve made him mad and I can sense the game is over.

I have to move.

But I can’t. Something bad has broken in my body, and I can’t get it to respond.

My heart hammers loudly, the only thing I can hear. The crowd has faded to the hazy rumble of a far-off windstorm. I blink, but it’s slow, so slow. My clan powers are depleted, used up under the stress of the fight, and I can’t even move. Shocked, helpless, and hurt, I just watch as he stalks toward me.

I fight to even stay conscious. Darkness closes in at the edges of my vision.

I think I see Kai, struggling against the Bear clan guards. Yelling something that I can’t hear. But something’s wrong. He’s so far away. And he’s glowing, an impossible silvery figure surrounded by a dark nimbus of shadow. That can’t be right.

Neizghání’s hand grabs my good shoulder and flips me on my back. I scream as pain shoots up my spine. He stands over me, his chin and chest covered in blood. I shattered his nose.

He drops to his knees, straddling me again. This time, I don’t have the strength to challenge him. He’s heavy, and he grinds his weight into my pelvis. Panic grips me, and I struggle weakly to get away. He squeezes his thighs, holding me still.

I begin to shake. The aftermath of the massive doses of adrenaline the clan powers require. Or shock. Fear washes over me in a blinding wave.

He leans over me, his long silken hair a caress against my skin. His big hand reaches down to grasp my neck and pull my face to his. I wait for him to crush my windpipe, but instead he runs a gentle thumb down the side of my throat. I look up into his eyes, fathomless pools of night.

“I could break your neck with the turn of my wrist,” he says matter-of-factly. “Is that what you want?” His face darkens. His hand squeezes my throat.

I can’t speak, couldn’t answer him if I wanted to. I choke on my own blood and tears.

His eyes soften as he watches me struggle. “Ah, Chíníbaá, you are so fierce, so beautiful,” he breathes, wonder in his voice. “But you don’t know when to quit. You never have.”

And then his bloody lips are on mine, forcing my mouth open with his tongue as he kisses me. He is rough, brutal and possessive. I taste iron and salt. Holding my throat in his one hand, mouth still on mine, he reaches down with the other hand, wraps his fingers around the hilt of his weapon, and thrusts his lightning blade up and under my ribs.

Digging for my heart.





Chapter 32


I am on fire. Blazing inferno. My skin peels from my bones, the blood in my veins boils and evaporates. I scream as I ignite.

And then water. Like the mountain rivers of the spring thaw, rushing and powerful and cool, spreading through me to wash away the scorching firestorm.

A tsunami of sound, all at once. So loud it hurts. Cacophonous. Screeching awful sound. Two hundred people shouting together.

And pain. So much pain. An agony of screaming nerves, muscles distended and bones shattered. God, I hurt. I try to curl inside myself.

An echo of sound, an urgent cry pulling me back.

Whatever you’re doing, hurry. He’s coming back!

But it’s distant. Too distant.

No, Mags, stay with me! I can save you, but you’ve got to fight! I need you to fight!

That voice. I know it. It is kind. And when it speaks, it makes me want to fight. I want to. I do.

But I can’t do as the voice says. I was so stubborn. I already fought. And I lost.

And now my heart won’t work.

Because it’s broken.





Chapter 33


I wake in darkness. And pain. But less pain than before. It is the ache of injury, but not the searing pain of an open wound, not the agony of cracked bones. I gingerly rotate my wrist, the one he so casually shattered. I reach for the place below my ribs where his knife dug for my heart, and become aware of sheets and blankets. I am in a bed that is not mine. In a room I don’t recognize.