Sorry for the late update (again)! Nothing I say could excuse my long absence, so I'm just going to smoothly transition into my next thing on the list-thanking all the people who decided to stick with this book! I know it doesn't have the greatest stats, but it's my baby, and I'm glad that there are people out there who enjoy it!
AND I FORGOT TO DEDICATE SOMEONE IN THE LAST CHAPTER! Sorry, completely slipped my mind. This chapter is to Gabi_Weston, an amazing reader whose comments always make me laugh. Thanks for all the votes and comments!
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Apologies don't mean anything if you keep doing what you're sorry for.
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Chapter 17: Explosive
"No, no, no, no!"
"Tch!" Trent spat onto the ground, an irritated look in his fluorescent green eyes. His hateful gaze was directed at Ailana, who was currently storming towards the boys, a murderous glint in her churning amber eyes.
Cole exhaled heavily, wiping the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. He shot a warning look towards Trent, but the other boy completely disregarded it. "Trent."
Trent sneered at Ailana. "Just so you know, some people aren't won over by just a fancy name and a pretty face. You may be a Des Moines, but you're still a first year. You don't know anything about-"
"Do you want to lose?"
Trent blinked, thrown for a moment. "I-huh?"
Ailana stopped in front of the group of eleven. Five girls and seven boys, including Cole and Ailana, were part of Team 4. "Do you want to lose?"
Trent stared at Ailana as if she were crazy. Which, Cole decided, she was to some extent. "Obviously not. Do you also have no brain as well as no dignity?"
Ailana ignored the dig, her eyes narrowing slightly. "It looks like we are on the same page. Did you notice that you have a tick?"
A muscle feathered along Trent's jaw. "Excuse me?"
"Trent Adler Finch. Mother is Maria Reynolds Adler. Father is Ingo Clarice Finch. Second cousin of the Finch House, prodigy in Fire Manipulation, martial arts, the handling of lightweight edged weapons: rapiers, daggers, other pretentious and ceremonial blades. Prefers physical combat rather than Elemental Dancing, though often leaves many weaknesses in the blind side-the right. Left-handed, but trained to use the right, so to some extent, ambidextrous. When you go in to throw a punch-with your left hand-you shift your weight just slightly to the right. When you catch sight of a weakness in an opponent's armor, the tendons in your neck tighten. When you are frustrated, you slide the toes of your right foot against the ground, and when you are nervous, you rub your right index finger against the writer's bump of your right middle finger. When you are planning something, you cock your head to the right at a seven degree angle and shift your body fifteen degrees to the right. I could go on forever and ever about your tells. Do you even notice any of these?"
Trent's mouth was agape as he stared at the completely serious Ailana. It took him only a few seconds to regain his previous bravado, and he scoffed, glaring contemptuously at her. Cole's eyes narrowed as Ailana cocked her head to the side, a near triumphant look passing across her face. What is that girl planning? "Lies. There is no way that anyone could see through me in just a matter of seconds."
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Intrigue
FantasyFire burns through everything in its path, but yields in the right hands. Water follows the river, bending where the flow bends, curving where the drift curves, but seems to have its own mind. Earth is hard, unyielding-but it can crumble with the sl...