Chapter Forty-One
“ W ell, by Raffir’s fortune, you guys didn’t die after all.”
I squint my eyes open and see Griff standing over all of us, his arms folded across his chest and a proud smile pulling at his lips.
The fire from last night still clings to burnt embers, and the morning sun has arced into the sky, painting the world in warm, golden hues.
Next to me, Marcella grumbles something under her breath, finds a rock, and chucks it at Griff’s head. He swoops his fingers, and a tiny portal blinks open and swallows the stone, ejecting it back toward Marcella, pelting her in the temple.
Nuri giggles, now also awake, and despite only getting a few, short hours of precious sleep, I have to swallow the laugh bubbling in my throat. But Marcella…
Oh, that is the promise of death if I’ve ever seen it.
“It’s not nice to throw rocks at people,” Griff scolds in a taunting tone. “Especially when that person is here to transport you back to the academy.”
From across the makeshift fire pit, Gray rises and stretches his arms over his head, yawning. His hair is bedraggled and clinging to his skin.
“You’ll be proud to know your team is the first to achieve their objective,” Griff continues. “My captain is quite proud of you.”
His captain. The captain of Castaria. Kiran.
Griff folds his arms and lifts his chin. “You guys made me proud as well. You know, as your third-year supervisor and all.”
Laying back down, Marcella drapes her arm over her eyes. “You aren’t our supervisor; you’re our mode of transportation. More like a mule than anything else.”
Griff shoots her wicked look. “Is that your way of telling me that you’d like to ride me?”
She peeks at him from beneath the crook of her elbow and clicks her tongue. “Please. You couldn’t handle me.”
His smirk turns sharp. “Wanna bet?”
I clear my throat, glancing at Marcella with a subtle curve in my brow before back at Griff. “You said something about taking us back to the academy?”
His gaze lingers on Marcella a moment longer before he finally drags it away and onto me. “Yes. The illustrious captains have requested I bring you back for judgment.”
Nuri’s face scrunches. “We are to be judged now?”
Griff nods. “Yup.”
“But what about the other examinees?” I ask. “I thought you said we were the first ones finished.”
“You are. But since you found your creature and decapitated it within three days, I’ve been instructed to bring you back.
” He shrugs. “The captains see no point in keeping you out here for the remaining days of the test, and they also see no merit in making you wait to receive judgment.” He pulls at a hangnail on his index finger.
“Plus, if you ask me, I think it’s good you’re getting judged early.
It’d be shit having a bunch of creature heads gathered in one place. ”
“So, when do we leave?” Gray asks, smoothing his hair back into a tight bun.
“Well, now I guess,” answers Griff.
We all glance around at each other, uncertain and exhausted.
We left the Blue-Horn and its now removed head where it had fallen. It had taken hours, but using Marcella’s magic and Gray’s strength, we made it happen.
After the shock of the night’s events drifted away, Gray inspected Marcella and me while Nuri lectured him, saying that she is perfectly capable of making sure that we are mended correctly.
Marcella still had a gnarly gash in the back of her head that Nuri needed to finish healing, and I had a twisted ankle and wrist from my fall.
I squeezed Marcella’s hand the whole time Nuri attended to us, still reeling from thinking I had lost her.
After we could be sure that everyone was fine, we went as far away from the pungent smell of blood and death as our exhausted bodies would take us before giving out.
With our eyes basically closed, we scraped together a makeshift camp and then simply collapsed into sleep around the fire right as the sky was starting to brighten.
And now the sun hasn’t even peaked, and we are up again, heading for judgement.
“What about the head?” Marcella lifts her back from the ground, braces her weight on her knees, and rises. She swipes dirt off her pants and tunic. “And what of our appearances? Look at us—we’re disgusting .”
Now that she mentioned it…
I glance around to see just how right Marcella is. We all look terrible. Our clothes are dirty. Our hair is disheveled. We are coated in crusty blue blood mixed with hardened mud, and we are as battered and bruised as discarded fruit.
“They know what you look like,” Griff offers. “And I’ll throw a portal at the head, forcing it through. You guys won’t have to do anything.”
“You can throw your portal at things?” Gray questions, impressed. He rolls his sleeves up to his elbows, and I find myself staring a few seconds too long at his strong forearms, feeling a slight stir.
That’s weird.
A smile finds its way to Griff’s lips. “I can,” he answers with a proud dip of his chin. “Though, not all aether-wielders can say the same. It’s not a common thing.”
Gray tilts his head, and the sun falls perfectly onto his beautifully formed face. “Interesting.”
Nuri stands, readjusting her clothing, and pulls her braided hair over her shoulder .
She really is quite beautiful.
“Have they been watching us?”
Griff nods, running a hand through his unruly brown hair. An action that flexes his bicep—though it’s not nearly as impressive as Gray’s muscles. Or Draven’s.
Thinking of Draven’s arms sends a wave of scorching heat through me. I cough at the unexpected intensity of it.
What in god’s veins is going on with me?
Marcella flicks her eyes at me and raises a questioning brow. Eventually, she looks back to Griff and sighs. “Well, let’s get this over with.”
The judgment is surprisingly seamless.
Smooth, easy, quick—something I’m not expecting considering the tension and drama of the first one.
The captains are all in their chairs, waiting for us when we arrive.
They take a few minutes to examine the head of the Blue-Horn, ask some members from the Philator aggregate to take it to their wing for further examination, and then, for all intents and purposes, basically give us a pat on the back and tell us our whole team passes.
It’s all rather…underwhelming. Almost unnervingly so.
Though I guess there is one thing that keeps the judgement interesting—for me at least.
The effects of the aphrodisiac are still in my system.
I finally realized it the moment we stepped through the portal, and, as if on instinct, my eyes found Draven’s—his eyes already on me. The eye contact sent a warm pulse flooding my every nerve-ending. And yes, I’ve been affected by Draven’s striking looks before, but…never like that.
I should have realized it sooner. Like when I started feeling stirs in my stomach from looking at Gray and Griff.
My guess is that I haven’t noticed the effects until now because the venom and adrenaline were overpowering it.
And then once the venom was out and the adrenaline finally faded, I was asleep.
Normally, a good night's rest is enough to let the effects of an aphrodisiac pass, but in my case, the powder I inhaled was strong enough to affect a colossal beast. And that was only a few measly hours ago—even though it already feels like days ago.
So for the whole judgement, I have to make sure not to look at Draven—to not meet his beautiful and peculiar mismatched eyes. In my current state, I physically can’t handle it.
Which also means I have to endure strange, unfounded feelings toward Kiran, Finlay, and Nuha the whole judgement—I don’t dare even look at Arden. She’s too close to Draven.
After it’s all over and we’re dismissed, I scurry from the arena as quickly as I possibly can without being considered suspicious.
I am disgusting, and I want to bathe myself more than anything in this world—well, perhaps second to one other thing at the moment.
But I can’t risk bathing in the communal bathing chambers. It’s too risky given my…condition.
Like a trained assassin, I creep around the back of the guest wing and swipe some freshly washed clothes drying on a line—not bothering to check the sizes—along with a lone bar of soap.
Then I sprint for the sparkling pools resting between the hills.
I dunk my head deep beneath the turquoise waters.
Despite the days just now shifting from warm to cool, the water still bites with a prickly chill—a feature I decide is a blessing considering my present affliction.
But after a few minutes submerged in its embrace, the chill fades, leaving nothing but a pleasant bath coupled with tranquil sounds of humming waterfalls and chirping birds.
I swim a few laps around the basin once I’m finally scrubbed clean.
The water is fed by a small channel stemming from the tiered waterfalls, and being within its grasp awakens my senses in a positive way.
Eventually, though, when I’m pruning and my already fatigued muscles are absolutely exhausted, I reluctantly pry myself from the glittering pool of lapping blue.
The clothes I smuggled are—of course—two sizes too big.
I throw on the oversized shirt, fitting me like a dress, and forgo the pants entirely.
And then I take a deep breath, allowing my eyes to slowly scan the picturesque scene in front of me, finding myself overcome by the oddest urge to simply lay in the fluffy grass and find pictures in the clouds.
And so I do.
All the while, the rays of a golden sun caress my cheeks, and my bare feet tingle with the soft, velvety touch of the ground beneath me. My chest swells with an overwhelming feeling of contentment. It could be the aphrodisiac making me romanticize everything, but…