Deah nodded at Katia as they faced each other in the stone ring, but Katia didn’t return the gesture. Instead, she kept twirling and twirling her sword around and around in her hand, loosening up. Every once in a while, she would turn toward me enough that I could see the determined glint in her bright green eyes. The official called out the instructions again; then the fight began.
Katia immediately went on the offensive, moving quicker than I’d ever seen her move before, even during the obstacle course. Her movements were almost too fast to follow, and the only reason Deah was able to block her blows was because she’d long ago memorized the moves and countermoves, just as we all had.
And it wasn’t just that Katia was fast, but she also seemed stronger today, hitting Deah’s sword as hard as she could over and over again and showing no signs of stopping. I’d known that Katia was upset about losing to Deah in the tournament twice before, but she was fighting like it was a real battle and giving it everything she had. Katia had told me how much she wanted to win, and I’d felt her desire for myself, but she was really putting it all out there.
But despite all her speed, sharp blows, and determination, Katia still wasn’t able to get the best of the other girl.
Deah realized that Katia was trying to overwhelm her, and she did just enough to keep herself in the match, waiting for Katia’s initial fury to burn itself out. And it slowly did. The longer the fight continued, the slower and weaker Katia became, almost as if she’d used up all of her speed and strength with that opening round of attacks.
I didn’t know exactly how Deah’s mimic Talent worked, but I’d thought it must be similar to my own soulsight. It seemed I was right. Deah stared into Katia’s eyes the whole time, as if she was peering into the other girl the way I could look into other people. The longer Deah stared at Katia, the more she started to move exactly like the other girl, flowing from one attack position to the next, until it seemed as though Katia were fighting herself. And not only that, but it almost seemed as if Deah grew stronger and stronger as the match went on, while Katia kept slowly weakening.
Katia knew the tide was turning, and she snarled and lashed out with a series of quick attacks, designed to end the fight. But Deah was too smart, too experienced, too good, for that, and it didn’t work. Every time Deah blocked her latest blow, it only made Katia that much angrier. My eyes locked with Katia’s for a second as she whirled around, her hazel-green gaze burning brighter than ever before.
Her red-hot anger, rock-hard determination, and aching desperation punched me in the gut one right after another. Bam-bam-bam. Katia wanted to win the tournament, but even more than that, she had this hot, desperate need to beat Deah, as though it was more important to her than anything else.
But she wasn’t going to be able to do it.
Deah was clearly the better fighter. Oh, she wasn’t quicker or stronger than Katia—I doubted that anyone was right now—but Deah could think ahead and plan out her moves in a way that Katia couldn’t, just as I’d been able to think ahead in my fight with Devon. Katia didn’t realize it, but Deah was slowly driving her toward the cold spring in the center of the ring. In seven more moves, Katia would go into the water and Deah would win the match.
The fight dragged on, the cheers getting louder and louder with every sharp, ringing blow the two girls exchanged. Katia raised her sword high, putting everything she had into a strike aimed squarely at Deah’s head, as though she really wanted to cleave Deah’s skull in two with her sword. Everyone in the stadium gasped, including me—because if that blow connected, then Deah was dead.
But Deah managed to bring her own weapon up in time to block Katia’s sword, the muscles in her arms standing out and showing what an enormous effort it was. Deah stared into Katia’s eyes, dug her feet into the ground, and threw off the other girl, who shrieked in anger. Deah snarled back at her, and the two of them started circling each other again, with Deah still driving Katia closer and closer to the cold spring the whole time.
Katia was in a rage now, and she whipped her sword back and forth, and back and forth, moving harder and faster than ever before. But Deah matched her move for move.
Finally, Katia made a mistake, the same one Devon had made. She got too close to the edge of the cold spring, and her foot slipped. Katia windmilled her free arm for balance and Deah took advantage, stepping up and slicing her blade across the back of Katia’s sword hand. That small motion pushed Katia over the edge and sent her toppling backward, straight into the water.
Deah stepped back.
Katia came up sputtering. She shoved her wet hair off her face and stared in disbelief at the blood welling up out of the shallow cut on her hand. Her fingers tightened around her sword, making more blood ooze out of the wound, and she scrambled out of the water and surged forward as though she was going to keep on attacking Deah, even though the match was over.
One of the officials quickly stepped in front of Katia, cutting her off, even as another official reached for Deah’s hand and held it up.
“Winner, Deah Draconi!” the official yelled.
The stadium erupted in cheers. Deah glanced up at the Draconi box, giving Seleste and Victor a happy wave. Then she went over to Katia and held out her hand for the other girl to shake, but Katia gave her a disgusted look, whirled around, and stormed out of the stadium.
Deah kept smiling and waving to the crowd. Beside me, Devon, Felix, Poppy, and Oscar were talking about the match, but I only had eyes for Katia.
I slipped away from the others and followed Katia over to the Volkov tent, which was deserted, since everyone had been gathered around the fence, watching the match. Katia slung her sword as hard as she could, and the weapon zipped through the air and stuck in one of the wooden poles holding up the tent, wobbling back and forth.
“Dammit!” she screamed.
Katia went on a rampage—knocking weapons off tables, dashing cups and plates to the ground, and slamming her fists into every single thing she could. I’d heard of ’roid rage before, but Katia was beyond even that. I moved away from the tent entrance, not wanting to embarrass her with the realization that someone was watching her epic meltdown.
Finally, after a couple of minutes, the noise and cursing stopped, and Katia stepped back outside. She saw me standing near the tent. She hesitated a moment, then strode over to me, looking out into the stadium. Deah was still there, smiling, waving, and signing autographs for some of the tourist rubes, as well as members of the other Families. Katia scowled, white-hot rage flaring in her hazel eyes.
“You fought a good match,” I said, trying to cheer her up. “The way you moved out there . . . it was incredible how fast you were.”
She gave me a disgusted look as though I’d just said the stupidest thing ever. “Not fast enough. Not good enough. I’m never fast enough, I’m never good enough. Not with her around.”
She glared at Deah a final time, then stomped off into the fairgrounds. I let her go. Yeah, it sucked to lose, especially to the same person over and over again, but that was life sometimes. Katia seemed to specifically blame Deah because she’d lost, but Deah had clearly been the better fighter. I might not like Deah, but she’d won fair and square, just as I had against Devon.
And there was something else about Katia that was bothering me—some small, nagging detail that I couldn’t quite put my finger on. But the more I tried to figure it out, the deeper it sank into my brain.
After a couple of minutes, I gave up and moved on to the next thing—the final round of the Tournament of Blades. I wondered who would win, Deah or me. I looked down at the star carved into the center of my black blade and my star-shaped, sapphire ring.
I thought of my mom then, and I was determined that it was going to be me.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
I headed back over to the fence to hang out with Devon, Felix, Poppy, and Oscar before the final match. It took me much longer than it should have, since people stopped me every few feet to congratul
ate me and wish me luck in the final round. One tourist rube with a camera even asked if I would let her take my photo. I didn’t really want to, but I decided to be nice and pose for a picture, even though my smile was more of a snarl.
I had just moved away from the tourist and was blinking away the blinding camera flash when a hand settled on my shoulder.
I spun around to find Seleste Draconi staring at me with her bright, intense eyes—eyes that seemed to look right through me.
“You can’t win today, Serena,” she said in a dreamy voice. “You’re my sister, but you can’t win today.”
I couldn’t have been more shocked than if she’d zapped me with a bolt of lightning.
Sister? Seleste and my mom were sisters?
“You need to let the girls win,” Seleste continued. “It’s the only way they’re ever going to find each other. They’re blood, and blood should stick together.”
I shook off my shock. Seleste was just spouting nonsense again or somehow saying that she and my mom had been as close as sisters. Mom had never mentioned having an actual sister. Not even once. Surely, Mom would have told me that I had an aunt—
My stomach dropped. Or maybe not, since that aunt was married to Victor Draconi.
“I think you’re confused.” I didn’t want to hurt Seleste, but my voice came out sharper than I intended. “I’m not Serena Sterling. I’m her daughter, Lila. Remember? We met the other night at the cemetery.”
For a moment, Seleste’s face cleared, but then her eyes clouded over again, burning even brighter than before. “Lila . . . she finally came to her father’s grave, just the way I saw she would. . . .” Her voice trailed off, and she seemed lost in her own thoughts.
This conversation was going around and around in circles, and I didn’t need Seleste and her visions messing with my head. Not before the final match. I turned to head back to my friends, but Seleste latched out and grabbed hold of my arm.
She looked at me again, this time actually seeming to see me, and not my mom or some ghost or misty vision of the future. “You have to let Deah win,” she hissed. “Whatever you want, I’ll pay it and more. Just let her win the tournament. You’re the only one who can beat her. And you’re the only one who can beat him.”
I shook my head. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
She tightened her grip on my arm, still staring at me. “Victor will punish Deah if she doesn’t win. You know he will. The same way he punishes me when one of my visions turns out to be wrong or not what he expected. But he doesn’t realize that I’m telling him the wrong things. Never the right things. Never the important things. He slaps me and locks me away with no food, but I don’t care. Not anymore.”
Seleste cackled, as if she was happy she was lying to Victor despite all the pain and misery it brought down on her.
“I’m going to do my best in the tournament,” I said, trying to bring her back to the here and now. “Maybe Deah will beat me, and maybe she won’t. But I’m not going to just let her win.”
Seleste tightened her grip, her fingers painful and bruising on my upper arm. “But you have to. It’s the only way Victor will ever be defeated—if you and Deah work together.”
I had no idea what she was talking about. Deah loved her father and desperately wanted his approval. Even if she knew what a monster Victor was, there was no way she would ever turn against him. Especially not to help me. Deah hated me because I knew about her and Felix. Because I kept pointing out how stupid it was for the two of them to keep sneaking around when so many people could get hurt as a result.
“I’m sorry,” I repeated in a firmer voice. “But I can’t help you.”
Seleste’s face took on a sly, cunning look. “Not even to get your revenge on Victor for murdering Serena?”
Her words were like a slap across the face. “How do you know about that?”
No one knew about that, except for Mo, Devon, Claudia, and a few other people. It wasn’t like Victor had announced he’d murdered my mom to all the other Families. I doubted he’d given the horrible things he’d done to her more than a passing thought over the years.
Seleste gave me a pitying look. “I saw it, of course.” She sighed. “I see everything.”
Anger roared through me. “Well, if you saw it, then why didn’t you stop it? Huh? Especially since you were her friend. At least, that’s what Mo said.”
“Not just her friend—her sister,” Seleste snapped back. “She was my sister, and I still couldn’t save her.”
More questions crowded into my mind, including why she kept insisting they were sisters. Seleste didn’t look anything like my mom, with her blond hair and dark blue eyes, and she didn’t even have the same kind of magic—
Wait a second. Blue eyes. Mom had had dark blue eyes. So did I. And so did Deah.
My mom had had sight magic. Seleste could see the future. I could see into people with my soulsight, and it seemed as if Deah could do something similar with her mimic magic.
Jolt after jolt, shock after shock, zinged through me. Could . . . could Seleste be telling the truth? Could she and my mom really have been sisters? That would mean . . . that would make Deah my cousin. We would be related. Family.
Blood.
“You have to believe me,” Seleste said, pleading with me. “I tried to save Serena. I try to save everyone, but it doesn’t always work.”
Her voice dropped to a ragged whisper, and her entire body trembled. I looked—really looked at her—peering past the glaze of magic that coated her eyes.
Her aching regret slammed into me, making my heart hurt, my stomach twist, and knives slice through every single part of my body. The emotion was so strong that I staggered back, clutched my chest, and gasped for air, trying to get away from it for just one second. But Seleste . . . she couldn’t get away from it. She felt this all day, every day. How did she live with it?
Seleste dropped her gaze from mine. “I really did try to save Serena.”
“I . . . I believe you,” I croaked out, the awful emotions vanishing and my breathing slowly returning to normal.
“And you have to believe me about this too. You have to let Deah win the tournament. It’s the only way to save you both . . . bones and blades . . . bones and blades . . . bones and blades. . . .”
She grabbed my hands and stared into my eyes, but her gaze was foggy and distant, and I could tell that she wasn’t really seeing me. Instead, she kept mumbling those same words over and over again. I wondered what sort of prophecy or vision of the future it was. Whatever it was, she thought it was going to kill either Deah or me or both of us.
And I was starting to believe her.
People were beginning to stare at us and whisper, so I pried my hands out of Seleste’s and took a step back. She reached for me again, still mumbling about bones and blades, but I took another step back, staying out of her reach, and kept my gaze averted from hers. I didn’t want to know what she was feeling. Not right now.
Finally, she seemed to snap back to her senses, and she gave me another sorrowful look.
“I hope you believe me,” Seleste whispered. “I hope you do the right thing—for all our sakes. Or Victor has already won.”
Then she turned and walked away without another word.
I slipped into a pool of shadows next to the Sinclair tent and drew in deep breaths, trying to push all the questions and worries out of my mind and compose myself. Easier said than done.
When I felt calm enough, I went back over to the fence where my friends were still standing. Felix, Poppy, and Oscar all wished me good luck, then turned to talk to some other folks who had come up to them, but Devon stayed with me. He touched my shoulder and steered me a few feet away from the others.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
I shook my head. “I ran into Seleste in the fairgounds. She said some . . . strange things.”
“Like what?”
I told him everything she’d said, except for Sel
este claiming to be my aunt and wanting me to throw the tournament so Victor wouldn’t punish Deah for losing.
The longer I talked, the more Devon’s frown deepened. “Bones and blades—that’s the same warning she gave you at the Draconi cemetery. What do you think it means?”
“I have no idea. And really, I don’t think I want to know. I need to focus on the match. Not get distracted by Seleste and her prophecies.”
Devon touched my shoulder again. “Then don’t—don’t think about it at all. For the next five minutes or ten minutes or however long the match lasts, just think about how you can win. I would wish you luck, but you don’t need it. And no matter what happens out there, I want you to know how glad I am that you’re a member of the Sinclair Family. That you are a part of my life.”
My mouth dropped open in surprise. Devon smiled, but he took care to not look at me, as if he didn’t want me to be distracted by his feelings. Yeah. Fat chance of that happening. He opened his mouth to say something else, but Felix asked him a question, and Devon turned away from me to answer him.
My fingers curled around the hilt of my mom’s sword, and I drew it out of its scabbard and held it up before me, staring at the stars carved into the hilt and streaming down the blade. I wondered what my mom had thought at this moment, the minutes before she would either win or lose the tournament. What she’d been feeling. And what it had felt like when she had finally won. When she’d finally proven herself to be the best fighter around.
So I twirled my mom’s sword around and around the way I had so many times before, and the way she had so many times before me. I moved the weapon from one hand to the other and back again, clearing my mind for the fight to come.
And when I was ready, I dropped my mom’s sword to my side and let out a breath, finally ready to fight for everything that I wanted.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
The officials announced that it was time for the final match, and I drew in a breath and stepped out into the stadium. Directly across from me, Deah entered on the opposite side. The crowd yelled and cheered, although I could hear a few, loud boo-boo-boos mixed in as well, from Blake and his crew.
Dark Heart of Magic Page 22
