Blood drips from the wound, onto my body, and I sigh.

  Fucking great, dirty already.

  It’s not like there’s a constant supply of clean clothes out wherever we are, the clothes we arrived in having to be the only pair we get the entire time we’re here.

  And look what this dead guy has done.

  I finally heft the man off of me with a deep sigh, rolling him onto his back. I push to my feet.

  I glance up at the sun again with a glare. Somehow, it’s slightly hotter on this side of the hill and I can’t help but to wipe at the bead of sweat on my forehead.

  Pulling my fingers away from the wetness, I look at the red substance on them in confusion for a moment.

  Shit, I forgot about the gash.

  As if the reminder brings it on, the throbbing in my head intensifies to the point of it not being able to be ignored. My wrist still throbs but it's nowhere as bad as my head. I glare at the now dead man. “Look at what you did.” I place a boot on his chest and bend down to withdraw Gwev’ from his body. Wedged between bone and dead muscle, it takes a little force to pull her out, but when I do, I re-holster her.

  I stare at the unfamiliar man for a minute longer. I can’t say that I remember every single competitor’s face in detail and certainly not their name, but this man’s face doesn’t bring even a tinge of familiarity.

  He’s not a competitor.

  If he were, I’d have some recollection of him, even if it was small, because it's been weeks since The Calling started and at this point, I see all the other competitors daily at training and in the dining hall.

  If he’s not a competitor, then who the fuck is he?

  Deciding to worry about it after I’ve taken care of the gash, I move away from the man, closer to the stream.

  I kneel down beside the clear water, surprised by how clean it looks on the deserted land. I look for any signs of movement beneath its surface, possibly harteins or any other dangerous and deadly water creatures. After not spotting anything, I lean over the water, sniffing for any indication that it’s poisoned or toxic.

  The fact that smell is my only option for whether or not the water is okay is worrying.

  Not all troubled water smells bad.

  Surprisingly, the water smells fresh.

  I lean back a little but stop when I spot my reflection. Eyes almost the same shade of blue as the water, blonde hair with loose strands flying wildly from my braid. The gash in my head is only about as long as my pinky finger but the blood from it has been coming out wildly, already tinging the roots of my hair red.

  Now would be the time for that supposed healing magic to make an appearance.

  As a caelestin, I already heal quicker than weak bloods but the healing that went into the wound in my stomach was something else in comparison. No one with Cael blood heals that quickly.

  And apparently the bullshit healing won’t show up for a head wound.

  Of fucking course.

  Knowing I don’t have any other option, I lean forward, dipping my head into the water. I hold my breath as my hand gently moves over the wound, trying to wipe away the excess blood. After a few moments, I pull my head back up, water dripping down my body.

  Pulling one of my daggers from my boot, I cut the bottom of my shirt, ignoring the air that breezes along my now exposed skin.

  With the strip of cloth, I tie it around my head, wincing slightly at the pressure it puts on the wound, but knowing it’ll stop the bleeding.

  I stay kneeling for a few moments longer, giving myself time to settle.

  As I catch my reflection once again, I think of the last time I was in front of a stream. It was during one of the obstacles and I’d been exhausted and something drew me to the stream. I know now that there was something off with the water but at the time I didn’t. I didn’t think much of it until the reflection of a raven-haired woman appeared in front of me, moments before Walker’s bird had distracted me from the water.

  I quickly push the thought of the stream, and Walker and his bird from my mind.

  Placing my dagger back into my boot, I stand up and look back at the man’s body.

  Who are you?

  I move closer to him, inspecting his clothes. They’re nice but not exactly the quality of a royal. The threads look as if they were stitched together abruptly, maybe someplace in one of the northern villages. His long blonde hair is dirty but I can’t tell if it’s mostly because of the fight or if it were already that way.

  Squatting down beside the man, I check the pockets of his pants for anything that could give me a clue as to who he is.

  If he were a competitor, it wouldn’t matter since I’m here to kill them all anyway, but something about this man isn’t sitting right with me and I need to figure out why that is.

  Finding nothing in the first pocket, I move on to another one and I pause when my hand lands around something rough. It feels like leather. Pulling it out, I frown at the small, brown wallet. Unlike the man’s clothes, the quality of this man’s wallet, one hundred percent points at royalty.

  But this man certainly isn’t royalty.

  He’s too rough looking. I glance at the mark on his neck. What looks to be a backwards 4 turned upside down rests there.

  A caelorn.

  Flipping the wallet open, I frown at the Fawcett coat of arms engraved into the leather on one side.

  What the hell?

  I move my gaze over to the other side where there’s a small slit for a card to be slid into. The top of a slim gold one peeks out the top and I pull it out.

  My blood goes cold and my movements freeze.

  No fucking way.

  But sure as shit stinks, the identification card in front of me labels this man, Aosun Wyt, as a member of the royal guard.

  I sit back on my heels as I stare at the card.

  The royal guard?

  While information may be sparse on The Culling, Conrad never mentioned that guards would be placed in the remote location with the competitors.

  Things change.

  But no, because staring at the man, I still have the same off feeling that let me know that he wasn’t just a competitor.

  Something is amiss here.

  Knowing I can’t just sit out in the open glaring at the man and trying to figure out why a guard would be here, I slide the wallet into my back pocket and stand.

  I move a couple of feet away from the man before turning around to check if he has anything else on him that I can pocket to study later. Patting him down, I find a nice dagger, that maybe I don’t really need, but I take anyway. In one of his other pockets, I find a pouch with a couple of different colorful, unmarked vials and I take them. Lastly, I take the water canteen that was strapped to his back.

  Another thing that should have told me something was off.

  The royals would never have the decency to gift just a competitor with such a thing.

  I get to my feet and look off into the distance as I start my walk. I need to go through the jungle like smattering of trees in front of me. I know that I’m likely to come upon more than my fair share of animals though hopefully nothing like those big birds with deadly tails. I keep a handle of the top of Gwev’s handle.

  A sweet scent fills my nostrils as I take the first step between the trees and it's surprising. I’d thought it’d smell rank and like a forest full of wild animals not like sweet berries.

  Still, I stay alert as I continue to move forward.

  I pause when a couple of minutes into my surprisingly peaceful trek, there’s the sound of branches snapping. When a leaf falls from above, I look up, and instantly roll forward when I spot the large man aiming a crossbow at my head.

  The arrow embeds itself into the ground where I was just standing only a moment ago.

  Getting to my feet, I whirl around when I feel heat at my back. I manage to unholster Gwev and get her up in time to avoid a huge man’s sword coming down on top of me.

  I let out a grunt as I kick at his knee. He goes down and I spot another man with red hair moving from behind a tree just as the other man grabs my leg with a big hand and pulls me to the ground.

  Not a-fucking-gain.

  Not letting him get the advantage of climbing on top of me, I quickly place a boot in his chest. Reaching and rolling at the same time, I grab the newly stolen dagger and send it whipping through the air at the red headed man.

  The dagger embeds itself in his throat and he tries to clutch at it, but it’s too late as blood emerges from between his lips and he drops to the ground.

  An arrow landing by my foot pulls my attention back to the other two men. Glancing up quickly, I find the archer nocking another arrow.

  I hastily move in the direction of the other man just as two others appear with swords drawn and hard gazes.

  Fuck, this was an ambush.

  An arrow whizzes past my ear and I duck. The man in front of me finally makes it back to his feet. His lips are parted into a nasty sneer as he surges forward and I roll out of the way. He lets out a loud curse and I narrow my eyes as I try to come up with a game plan.

  Four attackers and they could have more hidden since they seem to almost be appearing out of thin air. Who did I need to neutralize first?

  Even though the archer almost seems to be a bad shot, he’s the one I need to be most worried about. He could easily shoot me in the back or head while I’m trying to dispose of the others.

  The thought goes from my mind as I hear a loud yelp before something is crashing to the ground a couple of feet away from me. I look at the now dead archer in shock. There are three arrows in his body, two in the head and one in the chest.

  What the he-

  Arms of steel wrap around my body and I curse myself for allowing the momentary distraction. On instinct, I heft my foot up and slam it down against the foot of my attacker. Their grip loosens and I throw an elbow back listening to them grunt as they fully release me.

  Spinning around, I find the same big man from before. I’m about to plunge Gwev into him when his head suddenly snaps back. His wide brown eyes are the last thing I see before I spot the arrow in his neck.

  The man collapses backward.

  I whirl around, trying to figure out where in the hell the arrows are coming from.

  The two men who were wielding swords are also now both incapacitated. Okay, more like dead. Instead of arrows though, one has been cleanly decapitated, his head and body feet apart. The other has a wound in both his gut and his chest, leaving blood trickling from a steady stream in both holes.

  I take a step back, tightening my grip on Gwev as I try to figure out what’s going on.

  Someone killed the men who were trying to kill me.

  But that doesn’t mean the person is my ally.

  I could be next on their death list for all I know and I refuse to go down without a fight.

  A grunt comes from behind me and I spin around, ready to attack.

  My hand wavers slightly and my mouth drops open when I find two men standing behind me. The smaller man, a brunette with blood dripping from a busted lip is struggling and wiggling as he tries to get free of the chokehold the bigger man has him in.

  Bright green eyes meet mine, deadly and cold, a moment before the bigger man snaps the neck of the other man. He tosses the limp body to the side and takes a step toward me.

  Unsure of what to make of this and what’s going on, I tighten my grip on Gwev.

  Green eyes narrow and an exasperated sigh slips past pinched lips. “I just saved your life, again, and you have the nerve to raise your sword at me, princess?

  “We’re not friends or allies, so yes.” I don’t let my hand waver for even a second.

  Walker lets out a bitter laugh and continues moving toward me. He doesn’t stop until his chest is pressed to the edge of the sword. “Well, get over that friends shit, because you need me.”

  “What?” I frown as I stare at him.

  He lets out another sigh, as if irritated that I have no idea what he’s talking about. “I hate to break it to you, princess, but it looks like there’s a hit on your head.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  “What the hell do you mean there’s a hit on my head?” My heart pounds quicker in my chest as I watch Walker.

  He strides over to one of the bodies, kneels, and checks the man’s pockets, pulling something out and placing it in his own pocket. He keeps his back to me as he repeats the process with the other bodies.

  “Hey, I’m fucking talking to you,” I hiss out, taking hesitant steps closer to him. I still don’t trust him but I’m curious about his words and I’ll be damned if I’m going to let him get away with the vague statement.

  He looks over his shoulder, his green eyes burning with rage as he watches me.

  I hold his gaze without flinching.

  He pushes to his feet, his hand clenched around one of the swords at his side. He moves over to me, not stopping until we’re boot to boot. His gaze remains hard as he looks down at me, a stray piece of his dark hair falling into his face. His nostrils flare for a moment. “To be such a good warrior, you’re rather dumb at times, aren’t you?”

  I don’t even have time to focus on the compliment, too caught up by the backhanded insult attached to it. My jaw clenches and my fingers tighten on Gwev but I know it’s not where my focus needs to be at the moment. “I will ask once more, what the hell do you mean there’s a hit on my head?”

  Walker’s eyes flit over my face before he shakes his head and takes a step back. “We can’t talk about it here.” He turns his back on me.

  I watch as he moves over toward a bush and bends over, reaching for something. When he turns around, I realize it’s a bow and a quiver of arrows. I should have known he’d be the only person with such a marksman ability to take out the guards this quickly with a bow and arrow.

  I’ve seen the bastard use the weapon on more than one occasion. The one that sticks out the most is when he called himself protecting me from another competitor who’d tried to sneak up on me after I embarrassed him by cleanly whipping his ass in front of the rest of the competitors. I’d turned my back on him as a bigger insult and he’d tried to attack before Walker shot an arrow clean through the man’s thigh.

  I watch now as he moves over to the archer he took out and retrieves his arrows from the man’s body. He doesn’t bother cleaning the blood off of them as he returns them to his quiver.

  He snatches the archers own bow, examining it, for damage from the fall, I’m sure. After a moment he nods to himself before retrieving the fallen quiver and arrows that fell out of it.

  Finally, he rises to his feet and I’m surprised when he holds out the bow and quiver to me.

  Without comment, I take it, narrowing my eyes.

  What in the hell is going on?

  Is he about to challenge me to a shootout?

  “We need to find shelter and a good defensive position,” Walker says as if we’re on the same page when we’re not even in the same book.

  We’re enemies, the lines are clear, and yet here he is saving my life again, just as he stated. Not only does it not make sense but I’m not sure how to actually feel about it.

  Disgrace.

  Is that what I’m becoming if I continue to blindly follow Walker knowing that at any moment he could betray me? When I told myself that I was done associating with the royals and letting them drag me further into their world?

  “Princess, did you not hear me? I said we need to find shelter and a good defensive position,” Walker grits out, sounding more than a little irritated as he glances at me in exasperation. He makes a gesture with his big hand for me to hurry up.

  My feet move of their own accord.

  I keep my distance but follow Walker as he treks through the trees, seeming to know where he’s going.

  “How long have you been awake?” I ask him in suspicion. Something about the way in which he’s moving along the new territory seems far too familiar.

  He glances back at me briefly, his green eyes holding annoyance. “A few hours.” My eyes narrow at him and he huffs out a sigh before pinching the bridge of his nose and muttering something under his breath. “Stop looking at me like I’m trying to lead you to your death, Roxanna.”

  Well, I’m starting to believe you just may be, so...

  “Then tell me why you seem to know exactly where we’re going when this is supposed to be new scenery for all of us.” I don’t bother to hide the malice in my voice.

  “Because I’m a survivor, Princess. And do you know what survivors do? We adapt.” He pauses walking as he turns to meet my gaze head on. “I woke up a couple of miles from here and the first thing I did was find shelter. I was in the middle of getting defenses ready when my attention was called to a fight at the top of a fucking hill where anyone within range can see.” His gaze is judgmental as he watches me. “And here I was thinking you understood the best way to take The Culling is to not draw attention to yourself but I knew I wasn’t the only one to see you. It didn’t take long to find you, you weren’t exactly quiet and neither were the others who saw you.” His jaw clenches slightly. “Now is that a good enough answer for you for the moment? I don’t like the thought of standing out here in the open like this.” His eyes roam up toward the trees and I get the implication. Anyone could be hiding in numerous places and we wouldn’t know it until too late.

  “Fine,” I grit out.

  Something about his answer seems to be the truth. Maybe it’s because while he’s never been up front with everything, Walker has never directly lied to me. Now that I think about it, none of the royals ever told me a lie, they just obstructed from telling the truth.

  Disgrace.

  Stop making excuses for them.

  Walker’s steps remain sure and strong and soon the trees start to thin out, getting further and further apart.

  I turn my attention away from the man as I think about the tactical mistakes I’ve already made when I haven’t even been here longer than a couple of hours.