Page 22 of Ember Rising

“Hey, do you think Eli might reconsider Amira teaching archery?” I ask him.

“Honestly? No.”

He comes around to my other side, and when I see we’re about to get lapped by Marcus, Pax, and Evander, I pick up my pace.

What a bunch of showboaters. Amira’s not letting on what a strong archer she is, and I see the wisdom in it. We’re not a bunch of objects to be manipulated by the ILF. None of us got to make a choice about being injected with aromium. Many prisoners didn’t even survive the injection.

The three men fly past us, Evander breathing hard. He’s starting to fall back slightly. Pax pushes a few feet past Marcus, and Marcus responds by breaking ahead of him.

They’re on a sub-three-minute-per-mile pace. Bill looks from his stopwatch to the two of them, then back at his stopwatch.

Marcus and Pax are so concerned with being outdone by the other that they’re putting targets on all our backs. The ILF people seem to want the same things we do, but we don’t know them well yet. If they see how fast and strong we are, they may not give us a choice about letting them take our blood. We could be reassigned, and that would devastate me.

Usually, Marcus thinks things through and is the first one to play it close to the vest. But when it comes to Pax, his ego short-circuits logic and takes over.

Both men push themselves harder, going full out. They’re side by side, Pax’s longish dark-blond hair flying behind him. Marcus is taller, but Pax is keeping up with him.

“There’s no way I can run that fast,” Olin mutters.

Evander is keeping his own pace now, shaking his head when Marcus and Pax lap him again.

With everyone’s attention focused on them, I try again to get through to Amira.

“Hey, talk to me. I’m supposed to leave in the morning, and I need to know you’re okay.”

“I’m okay.”

Everything other than her words indicates otherwise, though. She won’t look at me, her eyes staring ahead blankly. Her expression isn’t just neutral—it’s vacant. My fiery, funny best friend isn’t herself at all.

I’m not giving up that easily.

“I’m worried about you. If partnering with Evander is a deal-breaker, let me know. Is there something you’re not telling me?”

“I told you, I’m fine.”

There’s an edge in her tone that’s never been directed at me before. I know coming here has been hard for her. She doesn’t like being alone, and isolation in a strange place had to be even harder. But I can’t figure out why she’s shutting me out.

“Want me to see if I can switch with Evander?” Olin offers.

Amira glances over at him, her expression softening. “Thanks, but it’s okay.”

My gaze wanders to the other side of the track, where Marcus and Pax look like Olympic sprinters running their final stretch. Pax has pulled ahead, and Marcus’s face twists with a grimace as he digs deeper to push himself shoulder to shoulder with him again.

“Those two would compete over who could take a bigger shit if I wasn’t here to stop it,” I grumble, slowing to a walk.

I’m close to Bill, so I head over to him and say, “Good enough? Those two are faster than the rest of us and they could sustain it for miles if they needed to. No need to wear them out the day before we leave.”

Bill nods and puts a palm up, telling them to stop.

But do they? Absolutely not. They race past us, arms and legs pumping. Bill chuckles softly.

“Does aromium make you guys more competitive?” he asks.

“No,” I say, Marcus and Pax already on the other side of the track. “They’re just like this.”

I walk onto the track and stand in the center lane, crossing my arms. They round the curve and see me there, and Marcus slows slightly. Pax is like a steam engine, though, moving full speed ahead. There’s a whiff of breeze as he passes me, Marcus walking in my direction with both hands on his head. He’s sweaty, but not very winded.

“I won!” Pax calls out.