Chapter 172
Allison
51
The noise of the fight still rings in my bones long after the crowd dissolves back into the deeper corners of the Underhold, peeling away from me with reluctant disappointment, like they hadn’t expected the girl who arrived looking a mess to be the one left standing while her opponent knelt in surrender. My lungs burn. My hands shake. Every stolen thread of power I used in that fight thrums under my skin like a swarm of bees that hasn’t decided whether to
settle or sting.
Rafe drags the back of his hand across his mouth, still smiling like my victory has personally made his night. “Well, sweetheart,” he drawls, “that was a show
and a half.”
I don’t answer. My chest is still rising too fast, my pulse still jittering from the magic sloshing in me like I swallowed lightning raw. Kael and Evander drop
into place on either side of me, bruised and bloodied but steady, their presence settling something ragged inside me.
Rafe slaps a hand onto the railing. “Alright, kid. You won your three.” His grin widens. “Let me get my potion man.”
The “potion man” is the warlock I fought. Because, of course, the universe has a sense of humour.
He limps off with a muttered curse, clutching his cracked ribs, but he still manages to throw me a look as he goes, a look that says he has absolutely no idea. what to make of me, but he respects the fact that I nearly put him through the floor. Good.
For thirty minutes, we wait in a dim backroom that smells like old wood, stale smoke, and the faint metallic tang of spilled magic. Kael lowers himself onto the bench with a groan, rubbing at the gash along his thigh, Evander sits beside him, breathing a little too deliberately for someone who claims to be fine.
“You’re healing,” I say quietly.
They both look at me.
“Yes,” Evander answers, slow and measured. “But not fast enough that I’d want you doing that again.”
I exhale through my nose. “I didn’t want to.”
Kael snorts. “You looked like you did.”
I glare at him. “I did not.”
“You absolutely did.”
Before I can argue, the side door creaks open, and the warlock reappears, holding a small wooden case with three vials nestled inside that have pale, swirling liquid that glows faintly as he hands it over.
“For concealment,” he says, voice rough, eyes dropping to the faint shimmer of magic still dancing beneath my skin. “Etfects last only two days.”
“Thanks,” 1 mutter, because even if I nearly broke his spine, manners still matter./
He nods stiffly and leaves the room without looking back.
Rafe steps in as the door swings shut, clapping once as if bringing the scene to a close. “Well, that covers your debt. If you need anything else, like food, shelter, a new hideout, or a little more coin, I can throw you in another round. The crowd loves you, sweetheart.”
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17:15 Thu, Jan 1 MA
Chapter 172
“Absolutely not,” Evander says immediately, standing so abruptly the bench scrapes beneath him.
Kael grunts in agreement. “Not happening.”
Rafe raises both hands. “Fair enough. Offer stands.”
“No, it doesn’t,” Evander mutters, but Rafe only laughs and disappears down the corridor.
I tuck the potions away in my jacket, feeling the familiar weight of responsibility settle onto my shoulders again. The fight is over. The small safety of this underground ring is over. Time is moving again, fast and merciless.
Kael pushes himself upright. “What now, Trouble?”
“Now,” I say, “we move.”
Evander studies my face. “Because?”
“Because we’ve been out here too long already,” I answer, voice low. “And you know how the Council is. They’ll pick up our trail eventually.”
Kael blows out a slow breath. “So… deeper into the wilderness?”
“No.” I shake my head. “That’s exactly where they’ll expect me to go.”
Evander crosses his arms. “Then where?”
I lift my eyes to both of theirs, “Hiding in plain sight is safer than running into the dark,” I say. “The wilderness is predictable. The woods are predictable. Every unregistered person runs there.”
“And you?” Evander asks softly.
“I’m not every unregistered person. Not any more.” I pull my hood up. “The war is east of here,” I remind them.
Kael’s jaw drops. “You want us to go toward the war?”
“Yes,” I say simply. “Because it’s the one place they’ll assume I’d run farthest from.”
Evander stares at me for a long moment, long enough that I almost think he’s going to argue, but then something settles in his expression, something resigned and quietly impressed.
“You learned a lot out here,” he murmurs. “More than Thornhill ever taught you.”
I shrug one shoulder. “Out here, you don’t survive by hiding in caves. You survive by adapting.”
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