Bridges Burned (Entangled Teen) (Going Down in Flames)

by Chris Cannon

  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?

  Chapter Six

  After a quick checkup, Medic Williams released Bryn with a slip excusing her from classes for the rest of the day. Zavien escorted her across campus while Clint and Ivy returned to class. Bryn’s leg was stiff, but thanks to the healing power of Quintessence, would be good as new by tomorrow night.

  The disgusting sweat-soaked gym clothes had to go. When she reached her room, she made a beeline for the shower.

  Clean and dressed, she emerged from her bedroom to find Zavien brooding on the couch. Did he have any insight on who had planted the javelin?

  She sat next to him. “What are you thinking?”

  “It’s not important.”

  Not the answer she expected. She tried a different tactic. “What errands did you run today?”

  “Nola needed to do some shopping in Dragon’s Bluff.”

  He’d ditched her for Nola. Again. Knowing she was being irrational didn’t stop the words from flying out of her mouth. “Did you have fun shopping with Nola while someone tried to turn me into a shish kebab?”

  “I’ve told you before that she’s a friend.” Zavien reached for her hand.

  Not good enough. “When she shows up, you run to her rescue.”

  “I’ve come to your rescue on more than one occasion.”

  He was right. Damn it. “I don’t like sharing you. She needs to find her own hero.”

  Zavien leaned in and pressed his lips against hers. This seemed to be his standard move when he didn’t want to talk. She should be mad, but the distraction technique worked. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer. Electricity thrummed through her veins.

  When he pulled away from her, she sighed.

  He kissed her forehead. “This is something I don’t share with Nola. I may let her cry on my shoulder, and I might go shopping with her, but I have no desire to kiss her until she melts against me.”

  “I don’t melt.”

  One corner of his mouth turned up. He brushed her hair aside and skimmed his mouth down her neck until he reached the sensitive skin by her collarbone.

  L
iquid heat flooded her body. She clamped her lips together to keep from moaning. When he applied his teeth to the area she gave up all pretenses and growled deep in her throat. She felt and heard Zavien chuckle against her skin.

  “Maybe I melt a little.”

  His chest puffed out with pride.

  She stuck her tongue out at him.

  “That’s very mature.”

  The phone rang, cutting off further comment. She picked up the receiver.

  “Is Zavien there?” Smoke shot from Bryn’s nostrils. “Just a moment, Nola.” She glared at Zavien while he took the phone.

  His end of the conversation consisted of yes and no answers. Is he hiding something from me? When the conversation ended, Zavien reclaimed his seat on the couch.

  Bryn wasn’t ready to get all cuddly with him again. “What was that about?”

  “She’s inventorying the decorations for the fall dance, and there were a few items she couldn’t locate.”

  Jaxon’s taunts about the dance came back to her. “You’re still taking me to the dance, aren’t you?”

  “Of course. We’ll go with Clint and Ivy. It’ll be fun.”

  She relaxed, leaning against him. Her stomach growled.

  “You could never be a ninja.” Zavien poked her belly. “Your stomach would give you away.”

  She batted his hand away. “I’m still recovering from an injury, so I need all the calories I can get. Feed me.”

  “Want to go to the dining hall?”

  “I’d rather not face the masses. Can you pick up something from the café downstairs?”

  “I’ll be back in ten minutes.” He kissed her on the forehead and walked out the door.

  Twenty minutes later, Bryn paced the living room. What was taking so long?

  Her phone rang. She answered.

  “Don’t be mad,” Zavien said.

  “You’ve obviously done something you know will piss me off or you wouldn’t say that.”

  “Nola found me and insisted I help design new decorations for the dance.”

  Bryn growled into the phone.

  “Be reasonable,” Zavien said.

  “You ditched me for her again. You were supposed to bring me food.”

  “I ordered food for you. They were supposed to deliver it to your room.”

  “They didn’t.” She slammed the phone down while he argued his case.

  Cursing, she exited her room and set out for the café on the first floor, where the cook had no recollection of Zavien placing an order. She bought three submarine sandwiches and a large soda. Back in her room, she ate and fantasized about setting Nola’s hair on fire.

  Chapter Seven

  Over the next few days, Bryn found it harder and harder to contain her jealousy. No matter how irrational it was, she hated that Zavien jumped whenever Nola called. During class, when her mind wandered, she daydreamed about sneaking into Nola’s room in the middle of the night and shaving her pretty Barbie head bald.

  Zavien appeared at lunch and gave her pie or cookies as part of his extended apology for being a jerk when they’d first met. Whenever they were alone together, he swore Nola was a friend. She so wanted to believe him.

  Thursday morning in Elemental Science, Bryn found a yellow mum on her desk. It wasn’t just her. Every student had a small potted plant on their desk and a small cup of dirt beside it.

  “Are we planting flowers today?” Clint asked.

  “Today,” Mr. Stanton said from behind his desk, “we are working on using your emissaries as tools. In small doses, you can funnel Quintessence from one thing to another. Observe.” He produced a small twister of air in his right hand and directed it toward the fern on his desk. Before their eyes, the twister of air grew while the fern shriveled into a brown husk. Then he directed the twister to the cup of dirt on his desk. A green shoot burst forth from the dirt and grew into a stem with leaves.

  Bryn had seen him do this trick before when he’d sucked the life force from a fern and used the Quintessence to change the color of a bird’s feathers. Still, it was impressive.

  “You should all produce an emissary and use it to draw on the power of your plant. Feel your life force drawing on the plant’s life force.”

  “Makes me feel bad for the plant,” Ivy muttered to Clint.

  “Maybe you can resuscitate it afterward,” Clint said.

  Bryn focused and produced a small fireball in her right hand. She held her hand above the mum and concentrated on drawing energy from it. A strange tickling sensation made her palm itch as the mum shriveled and died and her fireball grew. She held the enhanced fireball over the cup of dirt and focused on sending energy down into the soil. Poof. Her fireball doubled in size, startling her. Crap.

  A strange chemical smell filled the air.

  Clint’s Styrofoam cup had melted on his desk. “This is not as easy as it looks.”

  Ivy held a ball of lightning in her left hand. With her right hand, she shot tiny sparks into the soil. After a few shocks, a green shoot poked from the soil. “I think I’m doing it.”

  Maybe Ivy had the right idea. Bryn held her fireball in one hand and focused on sending Quintessence into the cup with the other. The fireball in her hand shrank as the green stem shot out of the dirt. “Good idea, Ivy.”

  “As some of you have noticed, it’s not easy to control how much life force you send to the seed. You can use the two-handed method like Ivy until you achieve better control.”

  “He should have told us that in the first place.” Clint zapped the small pile of dirt on his desk with miniature lightning bolts. The seed popped open and sent out a gnarled leaf.

  “That’s just sad,” Ivy scooped up the malformed plant and tucked its roots into her cup of dirt. “It’s okay, little guy.” She directed half a dozen sparks into the cup. “I’ll take care of you.” Both plants in Ivy’s cup grew a few inches.

  Mr. Stanton came and stood by Ivy’s desk. “You seem to be a natural. There are artists who specialize in creating gardens and topiaries. You might want to consider looking into that as a career.”

  Ivy blushed. Clint’s chest puffed out with pride. “That’s my girlfriend. The plant whisperer.”

  …

  That night at Stagecraft, Bryn rolled primer onto a set. Rhianna helped, but she wasn’t smiling.

  “Is something wrong?” Bryn asked.

  Rhianna set the roller down. “Rumors are circulating about you and Jaxon.”

  Bryn snorted. “You can’t believe Jaxon and I are involved.”

  “His behavior toward you has changed.”

  If she could explain how she’d saved Jaxon’s life, this would be so much easier. Sticking to the official version of her time away from school tied her hands. She went with the party line. “We learned to tolerate each other when we went before the Directorate.”

  “Where did your book bag come from?” Rhianna asked.

  That was easier to explain. “It was a gift from Lillith. She bought a similar bag for Jaxon because she liked it so much.”

  “Why would his mother buy you a gift?”

  Crap. Maybe this wasn’t so easy.

  Jaxon showed up at that moment, so she tossed the ball to his court. “Rhianna asked why your mother bought me a book bag. I don’t really know why. Do you?”

  Maintaining his cool composure, he ran his hand through his hair. “Either she likes to shop and has a generous nature, or she felt sorry for Bryn because her book bag was subpar.”

  Bryn flipped him off.

  “What? You asked for an explanation. I gave you two. Pick the one you like most.”

  Rhianna frowned but didn’t ask any more questions.

  “Those rumors you’ve been listening to have no basis in truth.” Jaxon’s tone was dismissive. “I said I’d be discreet. Seeing Bryn would not be discreet. It would be a nightmare for all involved and would more than likely lead to death and dismemberment.”

  Bryn would’ve yelled at him, but he spoke the t
ruth.

  Rhianna gave a small smile. “I suppose you’re right. It’s easier to imagine you hacking away at each other with swords rather than being romantically involved.”

  “Exactly.” Jaxon reached for the blond girl’s hand.

  Rhianna laced her fingers through his. “I think I’m done for the evening. Walk me to my room?”

  They walked off together.

  Bryn continued painting her section of the set and allowed her mind to drift. What had Jaxon meant when he said he’d promised to be discreet?

  Were he and Rhianna seeing other people? More than likely, he was seeing other people and she was putting up with it.

  Asshat.

  A hand waved in front of her face. Startled, she jerked backward.

  Zavien stood next to her. “I was beginning to think you were having an out-of-body experience.”

  “Sorry. Lost in thought.”

  “Care to share?” he asked.

  “Nope.”

  “Finish up and we’ll walk back together.”

  That would be nice, but she’d bet he wouldn’t hold her hand. And that bothered her. A lot. After she cleaned up, they exited the building and emerged in the cool night air. Did he put his arm around her shoulders? Of course not. Time to think about something else.

  “What color tuxedo are you wearing to the dance?”

  “Basic black.”

  “It would be cool if you could find a bow tie to match my dress.”

  He snorted. “Colored bow ties are ridiculous. Basic black is classic.”

  “Clint is wearing a scarlet bow tie to match Ivy’s dress.”

  “He’s still in the infatuation stage. A year from now he’ll wear a black bow tie.”

  Wait a minute. She was infatuated with Zavien. Apparently he didn’t feel the same. And that sucked.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  Everything, but she couldn’t say that. If she opened her mouth right now, all her angst would come flying out. That would be bad. She needed to get away from him. She increased her pace to put some distance between them.

  He matched her stride and grabbed her arm. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

  Her eyes grew hot. Damn it. Why did tears have to come with anger? They made her feel weak. “Not here.”