Vengeance (The Prince's Games Book 1) by Rebecca Grey (electric book reader TXT) 📕

everyone made it through?" A centaur with a long torso asks. I hardly realize he's even standing there with a clipboard at first, but anything to forget about the pain in my side for a moment will do. He stretches his neck, counting my team.

"All here," Marcello responds. "Do you have medical equipment?"

The centaur dips his head. "Your team has been assigned to the purple tents. You'll find all medical supplies available for your own use in the large white tent in the corner of the room." He points a finger to the opposite corner.

"Very well. Thank you." Marcello scratches at a marring red droplet on his shirt.

"I'm going for a nap," Hedda breathes, shuffling around us to head in the direction of our tents.

Five different colors for five different teams. We're staying in the purple tents and it's clear that Mavi and his team were assigned the golden tents. The mostly female team has made their way to the deep emerald toned tents, which only leaves blue and orange for the last two teams who haven't made it in yet.

"Let’s get this done before I bleed out." I look pointedly at Juilliard.

"Maybe you should ask nicely." He scowls and heads for the white tent, Marcello and I hot on his trail.

"That's not going to keep him from fixing me, is it?" I whisper to Marcello.

With one wide hand, Marcello urges me through the tents to the one with the medicinal supplies. His warmth makes my body flash with heat, and I'm already sweaty enough from the maze.

"What will you do if he doesn’t?" The Elf asks.

"Do it myself." With the very, very basic knowledge I have.

When we pass Mavi’s team, whatever conversation they've been holding goes quiet. Most of them watch us as we pass. Most of them watch me. Apart from Mavi, a few of them even look surprised that I've made it this far. I'm sure the king is. And nothing brings me more satisfaction than that.

Even now after practically watching Davison's death, my eyes still linger amongst the men as if searching for him. I'm looking for the only Human I've met in decades. I'm looking for that one sign of hope that I'm not alone.

I scold myself quickly. I'm not shocked by it. I protected myself for this very reason. Even if all this means I lost some sort of small alliance, what it really means is I lost one of the last pieces of humanity.

Turning away from Mavi’s group, I fix my eyes on Juilliard's back. We weave through tents and pass the deep plum color of our new sleeping arrangements on the way. I count three tents, which means I'm likely bunking up with Hedda again.

Juilliard slaps away the tent flap. Marcello snatches the fabric and holds it out for me. The medic tent is much larger than any of the other tents we'll use for sleeping, reminding me of something a circus would travel with. White fabric drapes from propped poles linked together with shining silver joints. I sigh, averting my gaze, and enter without saying anything. My feet catch against the ground as I slowly take in the space. Five cots, in better shape than my own bed, are lined up on one side of the room, while the other is an arrangement of beakers, bottles, bandages, and sparkling tools.

"This is... a lot." I murmur, running my finger over a counter holding a variety of healing herbs and tonics.

"This is nothing. This is very basic medicine." Juilliard frowns some more. "The Oasis, our hospitals and doctors have much more advanced technology than this, and pills they won't be offering us in the Games."

"This is more than what we have in The Bend."

My statement makes both Juilliard and Marcello glance at one another. They have this silent way of communicating without speaking that leaves me left out of the conversation in the most frustrating of ways. Choosing to ignore them, I sit myself on the end of a cot. The thick mattress compresses under me.

In the Magic Corner of The Bend, there are many Med-witches for hire. None of which actually have any magic whatsoever, but carry on in the name of the healers that fought in the Immortal War. They'd been taken out by the Humans as a last-ditch effort in their cause to rid the world of the Hybrids. All that had done was bring witches to the brink of extinction. Killing healers to prevent more Hybrids from surviving was a flawed thought. Humans had been desperate.

So the treatment we get in The Bend is subpar. Costly too, since hardly any Hybrids want to work with or on me. But I only use them when the wound is severe enough. I've been known to give myself stitches when needed.

"Who wants to go first?" Juilliard crosses his arms and looks between us. Marcello plops down on the cot opposite me, looking unfazed by his once painful injury.

"What are you doing to that one?" I shift to Marcello, cupping my side.

"He's going to re-break my rib so he can properly set it. Right now I swear I can feel it scraping against my lung with every single breath."

"Will it hurt then?"

"Yes."

"He can go first. I'll watch." The blood on my hand is still warm and fresh, more still dripping from me when I try to hold the cut together.

"At least put some pressure on that." Juilliard hands me a clean towel. "Promise not to bleed out in the meantime?"

"I will do no such thing." I give him half a smile.

"Nilsa," he deadpans.

"Fine. Whatever. I promise not to bleed out while I wait."

As if I could actually control it. But confirming the promise seems to appease him and he moves to Marcello, plucking a small hammer out of the tools