by Janeal Falor
The crowd is silent as a stench grows stronger. The knife-like spell darts to her neck, crimson flowing, immediately gathered up by a second spell, clear from this vantage, save for flashes of bright red. It wastes no time pulling the blood from the girl toward the Grand Chancellor.
My fingers push harder, enough that they become wet with my own blood. I can’t stop myself any more than I can stop him without finding myself in her very place.
The Grand Chancellor directs the spell, pulling the helpless girl’s blood toward his wrist where he’s opened up a cut in his own arm. He uses the spell to pull the pure, untainted blood into him. How much magic did this tarnished girl have in her blood? Odds are, a lot. My hands ache, but not nearly as much as my chest.
The Grand Chancellor’s mouth turns up at the corners, framed by his beard as the spell continues sucking out her life force and magic. Moving her blood to him while she becomes paler under the strain. He is glowing though, as if the magic he has stolen isn’t fully absorbed into him, the light of it taking time to meld with his.
A moan escapes me. Hands are on me, pulling me toward them. Lukas, his spicy sweet scent fills me as I curl into his shoulder. Why can't we do anything? Why?
Chapter Forty-Four
The nightmare is over. For the tarnished girl at least. The sight of her motionless body. Of it being drained of life while I just stood and did nothing will terrorize me for a long time.
“It doesn’t matter what sort of hold they have over us. We can’t keep doing nothing.”
Serena glances around, eyes watchful of the crowd, but Lukas doesn’t take his gaze from me. “We will do something.”
“And we are,” Katherine says from behind me, coming to my side. “We’re doing as much as we can. It just takes time for people to realize this is something they need to fight for, that they need to believe in.”
“Still wish I could throw a fireball at him.”
“Don’t we all,” Bethany mutters.
And I can’t help but smile, even if it’s not for the best of reason. I’m no longer alone in wanting to do magic.
“We should leave,” Serena says.
“You and Bethany go ahead. There’s something I need to do,” I say, trying not to think on how soft my bed is.
“I could stay with you,” Bethany says.
“Not this time. Katherine, you and Charles are welcome to go with Serena and Bethany, or to come with me to the feast.”
Serena shivers, no doubt remembering her experience with Thomas at the festival last year. Just thinking on it makes me want to shiver as well, but I turn my gaze on Katherine and keep steady. She and Charles exchange a look, one that seems to speak in a language I don’t understand.
“We’ll join you,” she says.
We see Serena and Bethany off with Zade and their guards. Lukas, Chadwick, and Xyer remaining behind. The rotten stench invades my senses as we near the feast. The revelers are already loud, laughing and shouting at each other. Women and men watch me closely as I near, though none speak with me.
The crowd grows as we move within it. Somehow I feel more alone here than when no one was around at that first house. At least the others are close by, but I try only to think on them as a support. Mostly, I just need to be seen here. Show I belong here as much as the other duelers. More so even. I am one of the few going on to the last day.
“What is that stench?” I finally ask my guard.
“Traditional Chardonian tournament fare,” Chadwick answers, knowing more about my country, even though he’s from Envado. “Week-old, twice-boiled cabbage.”
“What brilliant person came up with that idea?”
Lukas snickers, but Chadwick replies with a lowered voice. “The Grand Chancellor. His favorite, apparently.”
“Ah.” And I have to keep my own laughter in. No wonder he’s so foul when that’s his favorite food. “Does anyone know what a mime is? Some women talked about them last year, but I’ve never been able to figure out what they are.”
“There’s one over this way that I spotted earlier,” Lukas says, placing a hand on the small of my back.
We weave through the crowd, drawing attention from almost everyone. I lean in closer to Lukas, not because I need the support but because I want them all to know how I feel about him.
We reach a crowd surrounding a man, but not just any man. He’s wearing all black except for his hands, which have white gloves, the kind only women wear. What’s more, his face is painted, sort of like a woman’s, but his features have been exaggerated toward happiness.
“Why does he look like that?”
Lukas quiets me. “Just watch.”
The man pulls a black bag out of his pocket, takes a ball out, and throws it into the air. Then he does it again, but I realize there is no ball. He’s only pretending to throw it and catch it behind his back. As he looks at the imaginary ball, he pulls his mouth to the side, his features appearing extra stretched with the black lines drawn on his face. Then he proceeds to throw his imaginary ball at a warlock's head and catch it as it bounces back.
Laughter escapes me, as it does many others in the crowd. He continues his performance, doing all sorts of tricks that grow funnier each time. It may not be a restful way to spend the evening, but my magic is responding anyway, bouncing happily through me even if it's not at full power.
It’s all splendid until I recognize a familiar face next to another, more dreaded familiar face. The laughter and magic with me freezes into icy points.
“Is that Conrad by Chancellor Ryan?” My mind is blank, struggling to process why my missing guard, the one who worked so hard to protect me, is by a warlock I loathe.
Lukas glances where I point, and his hands immediately fist. “Not just by him, but smiling and talking to him like they’re old pals.”
Never have I wanted to throw a hex as badly as I do now. The crowd around us, laughing at another of the mime’s antics, seems to blur as I focus in on him. I shove my way past them all, not caring about anything but getting to him. Getting to someone who swore to protect me, who we’ve all been worried about and had other guards out looking for. Someone who is about to feel my wrath.
“We’ve been looking for you.”
“Stop looking so hard. I’ve been right here.” His gaze flits to Chancellor Ryan, smile uneasy.
“It would seem Conrad and I have the same goals,” the Chancellor replies, much more confidently.
“Harassing women?” The words spit from me and make me realize the laughter is dying down, the crowd focusing in on us.
“I wouldn't,” Conrad says, finally having the decency to look a little guilty. “We've been working on better trade between our countries.”
“Which includes giving up your oath to protect those who need you,” Lukas says, voice bristling with even more anger than mine. He leans in closer, words taking on a deadly whisper. “And what did you give up to secure better trade? Setting the trap for Cynthia?”
Conrad takes a step back, looking away.
“You did, didn’t you?” My voice is small, betrayal shocking a larger reaction from flaring out. “You set up me, Chadwick, and Xyer.”
He takes another step back, enough that Chancellor Ryan pits himself between us, eying the crowd. “Conrad is an honored tradesman between our countries. If anyone threatens him, the consequences would be swift, I assure you.”
Magic and anger seethe through me, a riot of emotion struggling to let loose. Lukas grabs my hand, making me realize I had lifted it up, readying to hex them both. The crowd around me is wide-eyed as they take in the scene.
I clench my teeth, struggling to rein my power in before speaking. “Consequences for disloyalty may not be as swift but will still haunt any who follow that path.”
Though the Chancellor holds his sneer, Conrad pales. Good. I hold myself rigid and confident as I stride away, trying to think of anything but what just happened. The crowd parts before me, many giving me a nod of encouragement
but others looking away. As soon as we’re away from the crowd, I don’t give up my act but let more of my true emotions sink in.
“I’m so sorry,” Lukas says. “If I’d known he was like th—”
“Stop. You couldn’t have known. None of us could have. He was too good at pretending for that.”
Lukas doesn’t say anything, only clenches his jaw.
“Let’s go home.” The weariness in my voice shows that it’s almost as drained as I am.
Without a word, Lukas puts an arm around me and leads me away.
Chapter Forty-Five
Today is the last day of the tournament. This is it, and I’ve gotten farther than I ever thought I would. I spell my hair a muted brown, nails black, jewelry minimal, only a single necklace and bracelet and Lukas’s ring. The ride over to the grounds and checking the schedule are somber and silent. Magic, not fully restored, lumbers through me, but hopefully it's enough to get me through the day.
Everything is heavier with Conrad’s betrayal. After telling Zade, no one has spoken of it, but it still hangs heavy on me like a hex, keeping me under the weight of a house. Save for my family, Katherine, Zade, and Lukas, those close to me can’t even be counted on to stand by my side, let alone Chardonians.
I press on anyway. The fights are tough, but I don’t die, and somehow manage to win. There’s not much left in me for the last fight. My magic is weak, struggling to respond to my commands. I lay on the ground, trying to rest, trying to gain back as much of it as I can while Bethany and Serena hover near with water, and more importantly, their support.
The ground is just beginning to feel welcoming enough to sleep when Lukas joins us. “Your opponent just won his duel.”
“Who is it?”
“Nathaniel.”
The Grand Chancellor’s son. No one besides him was likely to win, just like no one else is likely to win the entire tournament. Though he’s been kind, the news fills me with a sort of dread. Thick and heavy, it presses the magic regaining strength within me into a tight ball.
The rain crashes down on the protective spell above us. I don’t ever remember seeing it rain so hard. It’s probably a sign of how vastly I’m going to fail. A council member always wins the tournament, and since the Grand Chancellor’s son is participating, he might as well be the most important councilman even if he is not, in fact, a councilman.
“It’s good I made it here.” The sky continues its incessant splashing into the dome overhead as Lukas leans into view. “It should be enough.”
“But?” he says.
I close my eyes and give a defeated, “I want more.”
“You can have more.”
“You’re sweet, but look at me, sprawled in the grass, trying to do everything I can just to let some of my magic recharge. It’s ridiculous for me to want what’s clearly not going to happen. Chancellor Ryan was sure to make me have to duel so much more than the others over the past two days so this would be how I ended up.”
“Maybe, but it doesn’t mean you have to give up.”
“What else am I supposed to do? I’ll go out there and fight, certainly, but there’s no way to win.”
“Not if you think like that, there isn’t.” He reaches a hand down to help me up. “You made it this far when many didn’t think you could. Now you just need to believe in yourself to make it through the last step. Many hope you do.”
I take his hand and stand. How to win the impossible, I’m not sure. If no one else before me was able to defeat the Grand Chancellor's choice for a winner, why should I be any different?
I am different, though. I am a woman. I am a warlock. I am going to win. And if not, if I die, I won't go without flair.
Giving Lukas’s hand a squeeze, I let go. He nods at me like he knows just what I’m thinking. I don’t leave it at that. If I’m going to win or die today, I’m going to do it with the memory of him. I wrap myself around him and kiss him with everything I have. All my longing and hope. All my struggle and sorrow.
He responds in kind, his mouth moving with mine, his hands gripping me tighter, holding me close and fierce. Everything has been worth it, but I only wish there was time for us to simply be like this before my probable end. He tastes spicy, just like the first time we kissed. The intensity of the kiss gives way to something sweet and tender. Tender, yet filled with heart-broken passion. Something that brings tears to my eyes that I don’t blink away. Something I hope he will remember, even if I’m no longer with him.
When our lips brush apart, he holds me close for another moment, places a peck on my forehead, and lets me go.
With my lips aching, I turn to the Bethany and Serena.
“I need to go.” I motion to the crowd that’s just out of sight. “They need me to.” I hug her, tight and fierce. “Everything will be fine. If not—”
“It will be,” Bethany says.
“If not,” I persist, “Serena and Zade will take care of things.”
Serena’s face is tight as she nods.
Chadwick says, “You’re being called.”
And indeed, my name sounds close by, around the stands, just out of sight. I wish there was more time, time for more good-byes if nothing else. I turn to Lukas “I—”
He puts a finger on my lips, stopping me. “Tell me after your duel.”
“But—”
“After.”
He presses a final, swift kiss to my lips, and then twirls me around. It doesn’t matter that there may not be an after. It only matters that my memory will live on long after I am gone. Bethany has her back to me. I give her another quick hug. “Tell all the girls I love them.”
She nods, her lips tight, her eyes blinking back tears.
And I’m off, striding to the field that will either bring a new freedom or my death.
Chapter Forty-Six
The others hurry to their box while I stride around it and onto the field. It’s dim with the storm overhead, despite the lit torches surrounding the field. The judge and the mediator stand by the glowing ring, Nathaniel is not yet in sight, so I wait, close enough they can’t say I’m not here, but far enough that I will still need to walk there when Nathaniel does.
The box next to the Grand Chancellor’s—Serena’s box—is ethereal. Bethany, Serena, Waverly, and Katherine stand regally side-by-side. My short locks rustle in the small breeze that’s managed to break through the spell. If the breeze is starting to break through, how long until the rain does as well? Hopefully not until after the tournament ends. By then, it probably won’t matter to me anyway. It’s hard enough dueling without adding bad weather.
The Grand Chancellor rises. I have an overwhelming urge to punch a spell at him. Thrust the pain at him that he’s put an entire country full of women through. Course it wouldn’t do a bit of good. If someone else didn’t stop it before it got to him, he’d be sure to, and then I’d be killed as an outlaw instead of dying in the final duel of the tournament.
Nathaniel appears across the field from me. I stride onto the field as he does. Thunder rumbles in the distance as we meet in the middle, both stopping on our own sides of the dueling ring. The torches go dim, leaving them the only faint light. My ribs feel as if they’re about to break from the frantic pounding of my heart. The stands are quiet. I grip my hands together, Lukas’s ring reminding me both of him and the strength I need to have.
“Enter,” the Grand Chancellor calls out.
Though my magic bounces, as much as is left, my skin is icy. Nathaniel is different. He’s changed. No longer the quiet, unassuming man who just happens to be the son of the Grand Chancellor. His face, bland as life without magic, except for his focus on me making his eyes the only part of his face with expression. Eyes that are strong and harsh as if he wants to kill me. So much for being honored to duel against me. My stomach becomes a pit of dread, filled with hexes. This is the face of my death.
We step into the circle at the same time, flashing it vivid orange as we cross. His spells are immed
iate and with such intensity, they crack every shield I shove at them. Both spells dissipate, but with my magic already so depleted, it won’t last long.
I continue throwing up shields as a slew of colors fly at me, trying to think of a way to draw this out, to show everyone that I am fighting for everything, that I have this power, and I’m willing to die to show it. A bit of wind tousles my hair. I glance up. That’s something he won’t expect. Hopefully something he’s not prepared for.
He zaps another spell at me. I fling two block shields to replace the ones he’s pummeled through, and then zap a spell at the dome above us, not strong, but pointed. Just a spot of icy cold focused exactly on the dome above our dueling ring. A resounding crack echoes through the field, quickly followed by howling wind. Within a second I’m soaked, the ground quickly growing slick with mud.
I crouch down, making myself as small of a target as possible, the mud sloshing as Nathaniel slips to the side. But it doesn’t stop the attack. Two violet shocks of light stream close but pass over my head.
Thinking of the sunniest day I can remember, I give my eyes a quick shield of darkness and flash pure light at him. The brightness still makes me squint, even with the graying shield. He grunts and screws his eyes shut against the light. Leaving the light spell blinding, I dart a dozen tiny bits of pure magic straight at his torso. Points. Even if I die, I will be remembered as having the most points, the almost winner.
Only three touch him before a thick emerald light encompasses him, creating a sort of full-body shield. Once the shield is in place, I keep my magic centered in me, ready to shield as I scan for cracks in his.
Something puffs from his hands, the deepest black, though my gray eye shield is still up. It puffs bigger and bigger, quickly taking over the area and surrounding my light spell. I rip the shield covering my eyes away just as there’s a yank on my magic. He’s attacking my spell.
