The Dragon Games

The Ritual

Grace stared at Elio, her face drawn, her eyes wide as moons. "Tobias?"  

Tobias looked up.

"Rip him apart." 

At that, I came back alive. 

"Like I give a damn about Elio Bates!" I said, jerking against the Windsors' hold. "Do you know how many times that bastard has tried to kill me? I wouldn't even be here if it wasn't for him!"

"If you don't like it, you know how to stop it," Grace said.

To Elio's credit, he lasted longer than any of us expected. He even managed to make Tobias bleed a little with a fist to the nose. Maybe he could have gotten another hit in and swayed the fight in his favor, had the other Windsors not interfered, shoving and tripping Elio at any chance they got. 

Once he was off balance, the fight was over. Tobias trapped Elio beneath him, his knees crushing Elio's chest, then reeled back a meaty fist and swung.

Elio's head whipped to the side, blood splattering across the stones. While I jerked against the Windsors' hold, Tobias swung again and again. It was brutal; maybe even worse than facing down the wyvern. Even some of the Windsors averted their eyes, but I couldn't look away. 

I couldn't stop thinking about how easy it would have been for Elio to maneuver the situation so I was the one bleeding on the ground. The next thing I knew, Tobias' fist was colliding with an invisible wall.

Rick snickered quietly, fanning his smarmy breath across my ear.

"Very good," Grace said. "Now use some more."

"I can't," I gritted out, my body curled over my twitching hands. Rick and the other Windsor had to hold me up; my legs had no strength left. "My hands feel like they're splitting in two."

Grace's mouth flattened into a line. "Do I have to call Tobias again?"

"I'm not being defiant. I genuinely, physically, can't." I wasn't lying. Stopping that punch took everything I had, and then some. I hadn't felt this weak since I was eight years old, struggling to get The Complete History of Scaldril past my ankles.

Grace squared her shoulders, her expression steeling over. "No fists this time, Tobias. Use your dagger."

This time, there was no fighting. Elio watched from the ground, breathing hard as Tobias knelt over his chest and drew a dagger from the folds of his jacket. The steel plunged down – just as I caught it with divine, exactly two inches from Elio's heart. 

Grinning, Tobias bore forward, putting his body weight behind the dagger. I grit my teeth, my hands pulsing in agony. My arms shook from fingertip to shoulder, like leaves in a hurricane. Black spots danced before my vision. My eyes filled with tears – no, not tears. Blood.

"It's black," Grace said.

Tobias pushed further, his blade grazing Elio's shirt. A scream ripped from my throat. This was it. I would pass out from the pain and wake up in a pool of Elio's blood.

"Tobias, it's black!" Grace exclaimed. She flicked her hand, and Tobias was thrown backward off Elio. I dropped, but a Windsor caught me before I hit the ground. I sagged in his arms, too tired to move even when Grace approached me.

She regarded me slowly, her eyes flicking up and down my body. I was pale and clammy, and ink black blood leaked from every pore in my body, densest at my eyes, nose, mouth, and ears. With a gentle touch, she chased the curves of my lips until her finger was coated with blood. Then, to my horror, she kissed me, her lips brushing my forehead as gentle as a butterfly's wings.