Chapter Sixteen #2
It’s just like when we were attacked on the road. The dirt floor of the arena cracks open and slides forward, putting me on my back in mere moments.
Magic. He’s an earth-born, and he’s using magic against me.
It’s not allowed. Someone should be here to stop him in a minute—
I can’t finish the thought before he’s on top of me. He sinks a knee into my stomach, knocking the wind from my lungs. My sword is still in my hand, and I use it to thrash at him, but he grabs it by the blade and tosses it aside.
“Tell Vahlo who sent you,” he says as he reaches for my throat.
He’s going to kill me. He’s actually going to try to kill me in this arena in broad daylight, surrounded by judges and guards and my family and friends.
His hands are squeezing my throat. I sink my nails into his skin, clawing at his hands, trying to get them to release me, but it does no good.
He’s going to crush my windpipe before anyone can get to me.
Through my fading vision, I see Adria’s flame ignite the sleeve of his tunic, but it’s too soaked with his sweat to catch.
His hands squeeze again, and panic shoots through me as I thrash helplessly beneath him. I can’t beat him, not with sheer strength and no weapon, and while I’m certain Adria will eventually light him up like a bonfire, I could be dead before it happens.
Thankfully, my survival instinct has gotten quite a lot of practice in recent days. It takes over then, and I release my magic, tournament rules be damned.
I drop a shadow over us. The darkness isn’t total, not out here in the broad daylight, but it’s still disorienting enough for the earth-born that I’m able to punch him hard in his vast stomach before kneeing him where the sun doesn’t shine as he stumbles forward.
My lungs fill with a painful, shaking gasp.
I’m alive. I’m still alive.
“Sylvie!” yells Adria. She’s close now. I release my shadow so she can find me.
The blinding sunlight disorients me, and I nearly collapse into her arms. My throat aches and burns where he choked me, the narrow passage of my airway swelling as the blood rushes to my wounded neck. I try to say something to her, but the words don’t come out.
“She’s hurt. Healer!”
A judge gestures to someone in a distant white tent almost boredly, as if my serious injury is just an inconvenience to him. The other judge doesn’t look at all. She turns to face the crowd. “Disqualified for use of magic during a non-magical event—”
Well, at least there’s that, I think as I pray to Vayla the healer gets here soon. He tried to kill me, but at least I’m alive, and I’m still in the tournament.
“—Sylvie of House Verran. Victor: Leon the Smith.”
What?
“But I—” Fuck. My voice croaks and hisses, the sound barely coming out. It’s really getting hard to breathe…“He. Used—”
Adria puts her arm underneath me, trying to move me towards the healer tent, but I can barely walk. I see Larus making his way through the crowd, trying to get down to the floor to help.
Adria is furious. “Where is the fucking healer? She’s hurt. Disqualified? He used magic first!”
“Please clear the area and wait for the healer.”
“ABSOLUTELY NOT.” Adria is about to start the war right here in the arena if they don’t start helping me soon.
“Excuse me,” says a quiet voice from behind the judges.
The judges bow to the woman, who is wearing the brown robes of the Alchemists’ Guild.
I see her face in the shadow of her robes, and a weight on my chest lifts even as my lungs scream for air.
“Guild Mistress,” says a judge. “The healers are on their way.”
“That’s not why I’m here,” she begins, but seeing the state I’m in, she rushes over to us, helping Adria hold me up. “Gods, she’s dying.”
The healer arrives at nearly the same time, and he tries to hand Zara an elixir, but she refuses it.
She places her hand on my neck, and the relief is nearly instantaneous. A comforting warmth spreads through my skin, reaching deep into the damaged tissue. Something stretches and snaps painlessly back into place. When she finally lets go, I can breathe freely. My throat no longer aches at all.
“Thank you,” I say to her, my voice now clear.
This must be what Ronan did for Nico when I stabbed him. It’s nothing like the slow nature magic of the typical healer. It’s nothing like the agonizing burn of the fire-born. It’s even better than most of the alchemical elixirs. It was painless, and unbelievably fast.
Light magic is truly incredible.
Zara rounds on the judges then. She stands as tall as she can, and though her voice is soft, there’s an edge of power to it that I’ve never heard from her before.
“The God-King will be hearing about the healer situation. He’s made it very clear that no one will be dying for the sake of our entertainment.
And as for the misunderstanding regarding the match, I must conclude it’s simply due to the angle you were watching from.
” What Zara says makes no sense: the judges were positioned on opposite sides of the circle with a full view of everything.
There’s no way they didn’t see what happened, but her words do give them an excuse for their behavior.
“I saw everything from the stands. The man—Leon? He’s earth-born.
He caused the damage to the circle. Sylvie was only reacting to his threat.
If anyone should be disqualified, it’s him. ”
The judges look at each other tensely. “Of course, Mistress,” says the man. “We’re grateful you were here to illuminate us.”
A light pun. Zara flashes a smile at me so quickly I nearly miss it.
The female judge turns to the crowd to redo the proclamation. “Disqualified: Leon the Smith. Victor: Sylvie of House Verran.”
Larus finally makes it to us then. I’m glad he’s left Felix back in the stands, but I realize as I look for him, it’s because Felix is flat on his back.
“He’ll be fine,” says Larus as he sees where I’m looking. “Are you alright?”
“I’m fine, thanks to the Guild Mistress.”
She smiles. “Any time. Anti-Nithyrian prejudice runs deep in Selara still. A pity, and when you were doing so well. I’d wish you luck, but I don’t think you’ll need it.”
I open my mouth to reiterate my gratitude, but she bows her head and slips away with all the subtlety of a shadow-born.
“Look who lives to fight another day. Well, barely,” says the jeering voice of Quinn of House Horatio. I know her before I even see her. I’d recognize her mockery anywhere.
“Fuck off,” says Adria. “You’ll see who barely lives when we fight.”
“Then you admit I’ll make it to the end?”
I glance at Larus. As much as I’d like to see what Quinn is up to, I’d really rather not get pulled into this argument. In fact, what I’d really like is to sit down.
“Come on,” he says, and he leads me into the stands, but further up beyond where Felix is resting. “Let the fire-born do…whatever it is that they do.”
As I take a seat next to Larus in a part of the stands empty enough to afford us privacy, I breathe a sigh of relief.
Not just because I’ve survived yet another attempt on my life, but because it’s Larus.
All of the confusing things I’ve been feeling will make sense once I’ve had a chance to speak with him. I just know it.
“I’ve heard you’ve been busy,” he says, waiting for me to speak as usual.
He’s not talking about today. He’s talking about my encounters with Ronan, which I’m sure he’s heard about from Adria, although she barely knows more than he does. “I fought with him. Not a real fight, but he came up to us while we were practicing. I told Adria about some of his favored moves.”
“That’s good. Although if he had any sense, he wouldn’t show you everything he’s capable of.”
That was true enough from what I’d seen of him when our lives were truly threatened.
Gods, there’s so much to tell Larus. As much as I want to hear what he thinks about the rest, I’m afraid to admit everything to him. Will he think I’m a fool for befriending Soren?
And how do I let him know what’s happened without confessing to every embarrassing detail?
I decide to avoid the topic for a bit longer while I work out what to say. Instead, I mention the way Quinn seems to be everywhere that we are as I watch her walk away from Adria, unfortunately not on fire, and Larus thinks it’s no coincidence.
“Keeping an eye on you, I’m sure. For her father or the king, maybe both.
She and Typhon are nearly twenty years apart in age.
The rest of their siblings died in the war, along with their mother.
Whatever begrudging affection Typhon has for our family after his years with us, I wouldn’t expect her to share it. ”
I hadn’t realized until our encounter on the ferry that Typhon did have a begrudging affection for us. But it’s good to know. We need every ally we can find around here.
Including, I realize, maybe even Quinn herself.
“There’s a chance she’s more amenable that she seems. Someone is. Someone on the inside, working against him. He’s trying to find them.”
Larus shakes his head. “Not one of ours. But good to keep in mind. We know from the throne room that there are others with similar goals.”
How many others are plotting to do the same? If they succeed, our own plans could fail.
That’s at least one good reason to help Ronan.
I ask Larus why he invited Felix here—he didn’t intend to, but he thought it would put him in his place once he saw how good we are in a fight, although it’s unclear how much of the day he’ll even remember.
And then I talk at length about the palace, the food, and the sights of the market, still avoiding the true topic of conversation.
But Larus knows me too well. As I dive into my third mention of the bathing caves, he holds up his hand to stop me. “This isn’t what you wanted to speak with me about.”
He’s right, of course, but it’s unnerving how easily he sees right through me.