He had her backed against the wall, hands around her neck, but she grabbed his shoulders, jammed her knee up into his rib cage, and rammed an elbow into the back of his head. He collapsed forward to the ground, wheezing. She flung herself down and ground her elbow into his lower back. Nezha cried out, arched his back in agony.
Rin pinned Nezha’s left arm to the floor with her foot and held his neck down with her right elbow. When he struggled, she slammed her fist into the back of his head and ground his face against the dirt until it was clear that he wouldn’t get up.
“Break,” said Sonnen, but she barely heard him. Blood thundered in her ears to a rhythm like war drums. Her vision was filtered through a red lens that registered only enemy targets.
She grasped a handful of Nezha’s hair in her hand and yanked his head up again to slam into the floor.
Sonnen’s arms were around her neck, restraining her, dragging her off Nezha’s limp form.
She staggered away from Sonnen. Her body was burning up, feverish. She reeled, suddenly dizzy. She felt full to bursting with heat; she had to dispel it, force it out somewhere or she’d surely die, but the only place to put it was in the bodies of everyone else around her—
Something deep inside her rational mind screamed.
Raban reached for her as she climbed up out of the ring. “Rin, what—”
She shoved his hand away.
“Move,” she panted. “Move.”
But the masters crowded around her, a hubbub of voices—hands reaching, mouths moving. Their presence was suffocating. She
felt if she screamed she could disintegrate them entirely,
Miraculously they cleared a path for her. She pushed her way through the crowd of apprentices and ran to the stairwell. She barreled up the stairs, burst out the door of the main hall into the cold open air, and sucked in a great breath.
It wasn’t enough. She was still burning.
Ignoring the shouts of the masters behind her, she set off at a run.
Jiang was in the first place she looked, the Lore garden. He was sitting cross-legged, eyes closed, still as the stone he sat upon.
She lurched through the garden gates, gripping at the doorpost. The world swirled sideways. Everything looked red: the trees, the stones, Jiang most of all. He flared in front of her like a torch.
He opened his eyes to the sound of her crashing through the gate. “Rin?”
She had forgotten how to speak. The flames within her licked out toward Jiang, sensed his presence like a fire sensed kindling
and
She became convinced that if she didn’t kill him, she might explode.
She moved to attack him. He scrambled to his feet, dodged her outstretched hands, and then upended her with a deft throw. She landed on her back. He pinned her to the ground with his arms.
“You’re burning,” he said in amazement.
“Help me,” she gasped. “
He leaned forward and cupped her head in his hands.
“Look at me.”
She obeyed with great difficulty. His face swam before her.
“Great Tortoise,” he murmured, and let go of her.
His eyes rolled up in the back of his head and he began uttering indecipherable noises, syllables that didn’t resemble any language she knew.
He opened his eyes and pressed the palm of his hand to her forehead.
His hand felt like ice. The searing cold flooded from his palm to her forehead and into the rest of her body, through the same rivulets the flame was coursing through; arresting the fire, stilling it in her veins. She felt as if she’d been doused in a freezing bath. She writhed on the floor, breathing in shock, trembling as the fire left her blood.
Then everything was still.
Jiang’s face was the first thing she saw when she regained consciousness. His clothes looked rumpled. There were deep circles under his eyes, as if he hadn’t slept in days. How long had she been asleep? Had he been here the entire time?
She raised her head. She was lying in a bunk in the infirmary, but she wasn’t injured, as far as she could tell.
“How do you feel?” Jiang asked quietly.
“Bruised, but okay.” She sat up slowly and winced. Her mouth felt like it was filled with cotton. She coughed and rubbed at her throat, frowning. “What happened?”
Jiang offered her a cup of water that had been sitting beside her bunk. She took it gratefully. The water sluiced down her dry throat with the most wonderful sensation.
“Congratulations,” Jiang said. “You’re this year’s champion.”
His tone did not sound congratulatory at all.
Rin felt none of the exhilaration that she should have, anyway. She couldn’t even relish her victory over Nezha. She didn’t feel the least bit proud, just scared and confused.
“What did I do?” she whispered.
