There were heavy shadows under their lids, and his skin was so pale he could have been a ghost. His hands were gripping the rail of my cot, heavy tension radiating off the white of his fists.Dried blood coated his chest and arms, and there were several bruises mottling his ribs. He looked like death.I sucked in a sharp breath. We were in the infirmary.A great ball of fire was climbing up my lungs.A lump in Darren’s throat rapidly rose and fell when he noticed I was awake. “Ryiah!” he choked out my name, and I swear I heard him break.I opened my mouth and closed it as hundreds of raging needles stabbed at my ribs. A healer’s palm shot out to cover it anyway.“You shouldn’t talk,” the woman apologized. “It’s only been a couple of hours since your match. Now that the prince knows you are awake—the both of you need to rest. Especially you, my lady. Your injuries were… grave.” She glanced away quickly. “The Victors’ Ceremony takes place tomorrow and—”He won. The words snapped out like a whip.“I-I’m so sorry.”
What do You think about The Black Mage: Candidate?
