Chapter Five
“Stop the joust,” Jaxon called out.
Clint and Ivy showed up at the side of the pit.
Jaxon pointed at Clint. “Find Mrs. Anderson.”
“How can I help?” Ivy asked.
“Hold her shoulders so she won’t sink farther into the pit.” Jaxon removed the top layer of blocks. “We need to find out what’s in here.”
“It’s going to be okay.” Ivy hooked her arms under Bryn’s shoulders. “I’ve got you.”
Sweat slicked Bryn’s skin. She took shallow breaths. Not that it helped. Her leg burned like it was coated in acid.
Jaxon removed more blocks, flinging them over his shoulder.
The blocks shifted, forcing the object deeper into her thigh. Bryn roared in pain. She clutched at Ivy. “Pull me out.”
Mrs. Anderson arrived. “What’s happened?”
“Something’s stabbed her leg.” Jaxon removed another block and reached the source of her injury. Covered in blood, the tip of a javelin protruded from Bryn’s thigh.
“Oh God.” Don’t throw up. Don’t throw up. Don’t throw up. She focused on Mrs. Anderson’s face and took shallow breaths.
“Quentin, get a medic.” Mrs. Anderson took Bryn’s hand. “We shouldn’t move you. We don’t know if the femoral artery has been cut.”
“My arms are getting tired,” Ivy whispered.
Jaxon climbed into the pit and placed one arm under Bryn’s lower back and one under her knees. “I’ve got her weight.”
Medic Williams ran into the room with Quentin by her side. She took one look at Bryn. “Don’t move her. Let me treat her first.” The medic placed a hand on Bryn’s forehead.
The familiar sensation of warm honey flowed over her body. When the warmth reached her thigh, the comforting sensation morphed into a blowtorch. Gasping, she dug her nails into Jaxon’s forearm. “It burns.”
“I’m cauterizing the wound so we can pull the javelin out without too much blood loss,” Medic Williams said. “You slept through this part the other times.”
“Look at me, Bryn.” Jaxon held her gaze. “You can do this.”
“Almost done,” Medic Williams said. “There. Lift her off.”
“On three,” Jaxon said. “One, two, three.” In a swift motion, he pulled her upward and cradled her to his chest. She wrapped her arms around his neck and held on, ignoring the voice in her head screaming about what this meant. The extra campus security…the cameras…official recognition; none of it changed a thing. Someone was still coming after her and they wouldn’t stop until she was dead.
“I’m going to set you down.” Jaxon lowered her onto a soft surface.
She opened her eyes. He’d placed her on one of the mats surrounding the ring where she’d danced with Vivian.
“Bryn, first I need to check and see if the blade was coated with toxins.”
Oh God. She hadn’t thought of that.
Warmth flowed over her body. “There’s no dark mass or strange smell,” Medic Williams said. “Rest now.”
When the warmth filled the wound, the pain dulled. Her muscles relaxed. Limp with fatigue, she let go and drifted into nothingness.
…
Waking in the medical clinic felt all too familiar. Jaxon sitting by her side rather than Zavien—that was different. He’d changed back into his school clothes. His hair appeared damp from a recent shower. Fierce concentration showed on his face as he wrote in a notebook.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“I’m trying to recall who was on the joust before you. Quentin surveyed the students. Not all of their stories coincide.”
“I don’t suppose someone left the javelin there by mistake?”
“If it had been anyone else on campus, maybe,” Jaxon said. “Since it was you…”
“I know. Wishful thinking.”
Jaxon tapped his pen on the page. “Someone had to place the broken javelin in the pit after the last opponent climbed out. While we were talking, someone would’ve had time to slip it in.”
“How could they be sure I’d land on it?”
“The pit is eight feet across. Given that all dragons vary only a few inches in height, the placement wouldn’t be hard. Putting it off center by two feet assured a seventy percent chance of bodily contact.”
“What Green dragon worked out that formula?”
The grin on Jaxon’s face told her she’d guessed correctly. “Mr. Stanton stopped by to see if he could be of any service. I believe he’s trying to make up for when you were poisoned in his dorm.”
“Did he have any theories?”
“A study of the weapon revealed an expired concealment charm. Whoever placed it in the pit did so while it was invisible.”
Javelins weren’t something you found lying around. “Where’d it come from?”
“There’s a repository for damaged equipment in Mrs. Anderson’s office. She said the javelin had been there for months. She didn’t notice it missing.”
“Sneaky bastards,” Bryn muttered.
“Exactly. Now, who do you think is behind this?”
Seriously? “I don’t know. A better question is why is this still happening? I mean Alec is dead. And my grandfather recognized me. Shouldn’t that give me some sort of political immunity?”
He turned a page in the notebook. “You’ve been a topic of discussion in the Blue dorm. Not all of it has been positive.”
Great. “Let me guess. My grandfather’s money doesn’t make up for the fact that my father is a Red.”
“You’re learning. In our Clan, wealth and power count a great deal. Your grandparents have both. You have unusual powers, which fascinate some and repulse others. Most don’t believe you’ll be allowed to marry. Some think you’d make an interesting mistress.”
“That’s freaking fantastic,” Bryn bit out. “Could you please explain to your dorm mates that I don’t need anyone to take care of me and I’m not interested in that sort of arrangement?”
He raised one eyebrow. “Perhaps you should create a flier. I could post it in the first-floor lounge.”
“Smart-ass. You do understand how wrong the system is, don’t you?”
He didn’t respond.
“What do you think your mother is doing when your father is off with another woman?”
“I thought she was unaware.” He shifted in his chair. “Knowing otherwise makes me…uncomfortable.”
“Uncomfortable. That’s it? Shouldn’t you be mad at your father?”
He reached to rub his temples. “Technically, he’s not doing anything wrong.”
“Really?” He couldn’t actually believe that. “What about the wives, do they have affairs?”
“Of course not,” he snapped.
The irritation in his voice spurred her on. “Are you sure? How do you know?”
Frost shot from his nose.
“I’m not trying to piss you off. It’s an honest question. How do you know the affairs are one-sided?”
“You’re talking about my mother.” Jaxon’s tone was arctic.
“Calm down. I’m talking about your social circle, not your mom in particular. How do you know those women are content to be by themselves? How do you know they aren’t sleeping with their gardeners out of spite?”
“This is an interesting conversation.” Clint walked into the room, carrying Bryn’s book bag.
Jaxon stood. “Thank God you’re here. Bryn is trying to give me an aneurysm.”
“She does make a valid point,” Ivy said.
Jaxon glared at Bryn. “Our gardener is a seventy-year-old female. If I have nightmares, I’m going to call you and describe them in detail.”
She felt bad, but not bad enough to let the topic drop. “Feel free to share my theory with your friends. Maybe they’ll be faithful to their wives.”
Jaxon exited the room, muttering to himself.
“We thought you might want this back.” Clint passed Bryn her book bag.
“Thanks.”
“How’s your leg?” Ivy asked.
“Better now that there’s no longer a sharp metal thing jabbing through it.”
“Makes sense,” Clint said. “Next inquiry, where’s Zavien?”
Good question. “I haven’t seen him since he left the gym. He said something about running errands at lunch.”
About ten minutes later, Zavien bolted through the door. “Are you all right?’
Good. He’s worried. “I’m recovering.”
“Tell me everything.” He sat in the chair Jaxon had occupied.
She launched into the story, leaving out Jaxon’s taunts about being the other woman. When she mentioned the blond’s role in helping her, Zavien frowned.
“How do you know he wasn’t distracting you to give someone time to plant the javelin?”
“He didn’t hurt me, he helped me.” Wait a minute. When had Jaxon become one of the good guys?