Chapter 1 #2
I winked. “Agree to disagree. My point is, Killian knows I’m his true mate.
One day, I’ll be his queen!” I tossed my curls for effect.
Not that I gave a fuck about being queen.
My own father was a god, and look where that got me.
No perks, just endless nightmares. But riling up the mob?
Priceless. “Man, don’t you love that? Though I should mention that none of you are getting a wedding invite, and none of you will have a taste of my wedding cake. ”
A collective gasp swept through them, as if the idea of Killian marrying me was beyond comprehension.
“Stay positive,” I said, crossing my fingers. “The future is ours.”
But deep down, I knew that future would never be mine, no matter how much I craved it.
“You’ll never have him!” Grace hissed, her golden curls, so like mine, tangled with volcanic ash.
My double lunged, faster than I expected, but then again, this was her turf.
Her fist shot toward my jaw. I tilted my head just enough; the blow grazed my cheek, close enough to sting.
I didn’t back away. Instead, I stepped inside her guard and drove my knee hard toward her stomach.
She twisted at the last second, taking the hit on her hip.
“I already have him,” I said, voice low. “Sucks to be you.”
Sy laughed.
“You’ll be dead before you ever see him again,” Grace growled.
“Only losers make promises they can’t keep,” I sneered.
We broke apart, circling each other. She studied me just as I studied her, searching for a tell, a weakness, an opening.
Grace feinted left. I didn’t bite. When her real strike came from the right, I was already moving, elbow slicing toward her temple.
She ducked, her leg sweeping behind mine.
I jumped the sweep and came down hard, fist aimed at her face, but she caught my wrist mid-strike.
For three heartbeats, we strained against each other, her breath hot on my face. I could see the calculation flashing in her eyes, the same cold math running through my head. Which joint to target. Which angle would break the hold.
“I know what you really are,” I said. “You’re nothing but a pale copy of me.”
Her eyes widened. I used the distraction, wrenching my wrist free and shoving her back. “I just haven’t figured out how your master got her hands on my DNA. But she couldn’t get my eye color right for you, could she?”
Her perfect mimicry faltered. She came at me wildly now—all rage, no technique.
“I’m the original!” she shouted. “You’re the inferior copy, and you’ll die here today!”
This is some narcissistic shit, Sy remarked as Grace and I tumbled across the scorched rails, hands locked around each other’s throats.
Grace’s forehead cracked against mine, and stars burst behind my eyes. I drove my elbow hard into her ribs. We’d abandoned strategy for raw survival, both of us knowing this wouldn’t end until one of us stopped getting up.
Let me handle her, Sy growled. I’ll rip her throat out.
You’ll get your turn, I shot back. But not now, and not in front of these jackals. I can handle them.
A horn blared. The tracks shuddered. Another train thundered toward us, and Grace’s eyes flared with panic.
Dive left! Sy screamed.
I dove, rolling hard across the rails as metal death roared past. Grace’s crew scattered like roaches, then quickly regrouped, hungry for my blood.
Another train whistled, closer this time. And it clicked: the trains weren’t just passing. They were hunting me.
“There!” Grace’s shrill voice cut through the noise. “Push her onto the tracks! Now!”
Her minions surged forward just as the crimson spotlight flared again, blinding us all.
Grace tried to pivot away, but I’d already grabbed her, using her momentum to swing us both clear.
She stumbled toward the rails. I reached for her instinctively, but Bellona shoved me from behind, trying to throw me under the train I spun, seized her arm, and used her weight against her.
The train’s wheels caught Bellona mid-scream. It cut short abruptly.
Then, the spotlight died. Darkness swallowed the rail network just as two trains emerged, speeding toward Grace and me from opposite directions.
I stared at the oncoming trains, frozen for a heartbeat. There was nowhere to run.
Up! Sy shouted. Jump to the roof!
It was the only way. I launched myself upward, strength and speed carrying me just high enough to clear the train’s roof. Sy’s claws slid out, digging into the metal to keep me anchored.
Grace darted right in a flash. The second train swerved across another rail, sparing her life, but it clipped her hard, sending her spinning through the air. She hit the tracks with a sickening crunch.
I didn’t see what happened next. The train plunged into pitch darkness, carrying me with it, until it swung back toward the center of the rail maze.
Crouched atop the speeding train, I scanned the ground frantically for any sign of Bea.
This trial had no rules except survival, and I’d be damned if I let my best friend get splattered across these tracks.
From my shaky perch, the maze sprawled below in a dizzying blur. I tracked the chaos, searching for patterns, and then I spotted a flash of blue hair.
Three witches had Bea cornered. One was our old enemy, Fake Blonde.
Wands drawn, they jabbed toward her with sharp, hostile motions.
Bea countered, brandishing her own wand, but every spell fizzled before it fully formed.
Magic didn’t work here—not for them, at least. Killian and I were probably the only exceptions.
He was the true heir to this realm, and I was something else.
The witches exchanged frustrated glances.
Then Fake Blonde pulled a dagger from her boot.
Wands were one thing, as they traveled with their owners, but how had she smuggled a blade?
We’d all been swept into the vortex straight from the dance in the courtyard.
The candidates were all still in their gowns, though our masks were long gone in the storm.
I was still wrapped in the crimson gown, the one Killian had given me as both a romantic gesture and a political statement.
It was the finest thing I’d ever worn: one-shoulder silk with a thigh-high slit that bloomed like rose petals when he spun me during our dance.
His gaze had been pure fire and sin, smoldering, possessive.
It pained me to ruin it, but survival came first. I’d torn the hem off at the knees as soon as I hit the rails. At least the blue diamond necklace—the token of House Chaos—still hung safely around my neck. My fingers brushed the smooth gem, a silent reassurance.
Grace had tried to claw it off me during our fight, her honeydew-green eyes burning with a jealousy so sharp it felt fucking insane. They were the only physical difference between us—she could never copy my two-toned eyes, one sapphire, one emerald.
I shoved the memory of her copied face and uncertain fate from my mind and refocused on Bea.
The witches moved as one. Fake Blonde drove her dagger toward Bea’s back while the others closed in from the front and side.
My friend had a warrior’s heart, but she wasn’t a fighter.
They were going to bleed her out right on the tracks.
“Bea!”
I shouted a warning before my dark wind lashed out, hurling the witches aside. In the same motion, the wind tore the dagger from Fake Blonde’s grip, spun it sharply, and buried it in her chest. She would never hurt my friend again.
The remaining witches stared, wide-eyed with shock and terror, before turning to flee.
“Barbie!” Bea cried, running toward me, but the train was already moving, and she was too far away to reach me.
My wind coiled around her, as gentle as I could make it, and swept her off her feet just as the train veered sharply across a web of intersecting tracks.
Bea screamed, but I leaned out, caught her wrist at the last second, and hauled her onto the shuddering roof.
“I gotcha!” I said.
She clutched my arm, her blue hair whipping wildly in the wind.
“Only your magic still works here, Barbie!” she shouted over the roaring mayhem.
“My magic works everywhere.” I smirked.
Below us, the rail maze churned with desperation. America, my old nemesis, misjudged a leap between trains. I winced, already imagining the wet crunch of impact. But before she fell, my dark wind surged, shoving her out of harm’s way.
She stared up at me from the tracks, her face ghost-pale.
“Thank…thank you,” she mouthed, breathless.
You’re welcome, fae chick! Sy yelled, loud enough for only me to hear.
I turned back to the chaos below. A cluster of first-years huddled between the rails, trembling. A cold realization clicked into place: they wouldn’t survive down there.
“Get on the trains!” I shouted, my voice cutting through the roar of metal and panic. “It’s the only way!”
Some scrambled to obey. Others froze.
A few tried to leap toward a passing train, but without magic, they had no chance. No one had power here, except Grace and me. And she wasn’t about to play savior.
I wasn’t leaving them trapped in this death maze, waiting for some faceless asshole to declare the trial over.
My dark wind surged forward, sweeping students off the tracks and lifting them onto the roofs of the other two trains—gentle as harvesting wheat. None landed on mine. I had a feeling my train was heading somewhere different from the rest.
“Hold on to the rails!” I yelled, watching as the candidates scrambled to follow my command.
Even without magic, they were still supernaturals, cutthroat and resilient. They’d make it out alive.
Our train lurched, leaping over three tracks before hurtling straight toward another oncoming locomotive.
Shit. These trains were all murderous.
With a roar, I threw my arms wide. Dark flame erupted from me, slamming into the other empty train and melting it into slag. My heart finally slid from my throat back into my chest.
“Barbie,” Bea shouted over the roaring wind and screeching metal, “I think you just rewrote the rules of the trial.”
No shit.
A reckless idea sparked in my mind.
“Let’s get the hell out of here!” I announced.