Vengeance (The Prince's Games Book 1) Rebecca Grey (first e reader txt) 📖

Sloane and Finnegan lean into each other, both tight lipped, watching and calculating. Something about the pair always reminds me of smoke. Like if I tried to grab them they would just disappear. And maybe they would if I tried. That's what they're good at, after all. Getting away with robberies for years. That particular skill set doesn't seem like it'll do much to get us through today though.

"Welcome to the second event of The Oasis Games!" The crowd goes wild. When I didn't think they could get any louder, they do. I close my eyes, trying to force my hands to stay at my sides. "Tonight's event," he yells over their screaming, "is simple. Each player must take their turn throwing the darts laid out before them through the hoops placed several yards away." What feels like thousands of yards away. He lowers the microphone from his mouth, as if that alone is enough information.

"That's it?" Hedda asks. "How do we win?"

I hardly hear her as I stare out at the hoops. Each Player. Each player has to take their turn throwing at the hoops. Even if I had the strongest throwing arm in all of Human existence I don't think I could make that throw. I've practiced with daggers my whole life. I have a good throwing arm. Still I doubt myself.

The crowd quiets with the same question. Player looks to player, as if one of us holds the answer to the impossible question.

Finnegan answers first, "Maybe that's all there is to it."

Marcello turns, a dangerous glint in his eyes. "That’s never all there is to it."

With a crooked smile the announcer speaks again. "Players, please send your first participant forward. They may pick up the dart and at my command, the game will commence."

"Shall I?" Juilliard offers. No one argues. Least of all me.

In the quieted murmur of questions still buzzing in the air, Juilliard takes a small step forward, gathering up one dart in his hand. He grunts in surprise, balancing the dart in his palms. Other competitors make similar sounds of surprise. On each side the two teams who are down to five players are positioned on their platforms. Team Ashford and Team Cuttington.

"The darts are weighted. Heavily," Juilliard whispers harshly.

What's left of my beating heart freezes and shatters at my feet, I swear it. Because it doesn't matter what I do or how determined I am to prove myself, I can never win. It's another hit to my already false confidence. I lock my gaze ahead.

Don't let them know it affects you. Don't let them know you're scared. Don't let them know that each failure cuts you deeper than any wound ever has.

"Players at the ready. Let the Games begin!"

Juilliard lifts his arm. His shirt stretches against his back as he makes the throwing motion with squinted eyes a few times. He sucks in air, then blows it all out in one big gust as his whole body pitches forward with the movement. His dart flies through the air.

I don't watch to see if it lands. I watch as our opponents throw. Most miss, either by the slightest fraction or by gaping yards. One team makes it through the tiny hoop. Lux, one of the female Elves on Team Riveria if I remember correctly. She throws her arms up in the air and her team cheers behind her.

The crowd around them claps while many boo as everyone else misses. Including Juilliard. He curses, stomping his foot against the white tile under him. The floor shakes. A scream cuts through the air to our left as the Dryad on Team Marcrux dangles from the lip of the platform, the tile under her gone.

Every team, except Team Riveria jumps into action, a tile dissolving to dust leaving them with just five spaces to stand on. Our platform shakes more violently and without even speaking, all of us reach out to hold onto someone. I lock arms with Hedda.

But it isn't my tile that dissolves. Under Sloane's feet, the black tile turns to ash. Her grip on her husband tightens and he wraps his arms around her in a blink. Her slender body melds to his and he smiles against her cheek. "I've got you, dear."

"Holy shit," I hiss.

Not only will my lack of ability act as an embarrassment, it could actually get one of us killed.

"Well, who wants to go next?" Juilliard chuckles dryly.

"Me." I step forward the missing tile to my right. "This might surprise you, but I'm pretty certain I'm not going to do well at this."

"You're right. I am shocked." Marcello responds. "For once you aren’t overflowing with pride."

Ignoring him, I squat and take a hold of a dart with both hands. "Be ready," I say. "We know how this miss is going to end now."

Juilliard shuffles to make room for me on his tile. Hedda moves to my empty tile, Marcello scooting to hers and Juilliard moving to his. They watch each other nervously as if even though I haven't thrown yet, the possibility of the floor collapsing under them is likely. Would any of them reach for me like Finnegan had for Sloane?

I hiss through my teeth as I lift the dart up. How could they pack so much weight into such a small dart? Like a hundred bricks, the dart and gravity fight against me as I yell and toss it with as much force as I can muster.

The dart leaves my fingers and makes a nose dive for the dirt so far below us. Other teams are tossing and scrambling or making the hoops and cheering. I no longer have time to watch them to see who's ahead and who's destined to fall. Not when a tile