Tournament Day

Clara

Felix stood shock still. His brain must have been in override. He didn’t say anything, and he didn’t move. I felt embarrassed doing this, but I didn’t let him go. He was slightly smaller than me, but today he seemed even smaller and more pitiful. He rested his head against my shoulder, and I felt his hot cheek graze against my bare skin. I tried to remember what Hazel did when she tried to soothe me. I stroked his back in slow, gentle circles.

Felix didn’t cry, but his arms suddenly lashed around my back and waist. His hot breath burned my neck, and I felt as if I was being violently hugged by a small, but heavy bear. His slender body shivered, and I stroked his silver hair. My fingers ran down to the back of his neck. The Mark would be there – a symbol of black magic and ostracization. Before, I would have recoiled in disgust at the thought of touching someone with the Mark. But now, I only felt pity for Felix.

He held me as if no one had ever bothered to show him any physical