Chapter 12 Sam #2
She should. Her father used them to finance her entire arcane career.
And judging from the look on her face, she’s not completely naive to that.
Good. I’ll feel better about destroying her, this way.
Maybe telling her about Jamie isn’t such a bad idea.
Maybe my family’s sob story will get under her skin. Make it easier for Rook to break her.
“It was a headliner,” I continue. “The kid who was supposed to enter the duel was just a few years younger than we are now. Franklin Park. Less than half as experienced as you, with probably less than half the skill, obviously, but not bad for an average high schooler picking up magic as a hobby. One of Jamie’s buddies, always hanging out with my brother, practically worshipping the ground he walked on.
Not the brightest bulb, but a sweet kid.
Always nice to me even though he didn’t have to be.
But Franklin always had this super romanticized idea of dueling, so when the underground promoters went after him, he didn’t even hesitate to sign on the dotted line.
“Franklin’s opponent was some knuckle-dragging brute of a magician way past his prime.
It was terrible matchmaking, obviously. They designed the whole show for pure spectacle, more than any actual showcase of magical skill and showmanship.
Franklin had delusions of grandeur like every other fifteen-year-old who’s not you or Rook, and the old brute was a petty criminal paid to rough up newcomers to the arena for shock value and the cheers of a bloodthirsty crowd. The whole thing was gross.
“When Jamie found out what Franklin got himself mixed up in, I’ve never seen him so mad. He talked Franklin out of the duel at the last minute, but the promoter needed a replacement. They would have gone after Franklin and his family if he couldn’t find one.”
I make sure I look Tamsin Blackwood right in the eyes when I tell her, “You can probably guess what happened next.”
“Tell me,” whispers Tamsin, looking sick at heart. She wants to hear it from me. Even if she already knows how this story ends. There must be more than a little masochism in this girl.
I’m more than happy to indulge it.
“Jamie stepped up. He was a good magician, even at just eighteen. Did pretty well for himself on local—and, might I add, legal—magicians’ dueling circuits.
But he wasn’t ready for the brutality of an illegal show, at an underground location, in front of this awful, ravenous audience calling for his blood.
And he wasn’t ready for his opponent’s brute strength, or the scumbag’s refusal to honor, you know, what would have been civilized rules in a sanctioned magicians’ duel. ”
My voice has gone thick—it always does, when I talk about this part—but I force myself to keep going.
“I wasn’t there. But what I heard was that in the end, the duel that took place that night was barely a duel at all.
And by the time the brute was done with him, what was left of my brother in that arena was barely recognizable. ”
Tamsin’s face goes grayer and grayer with every word that comes out of my mouth. “Did anyone ever catch the guy who did it?”
I shake my head. “They tried, but nothing stuck. Too much gray area in all the legalities. Jamie was technically no longer a minor, and he did sign a contract.” I bark a humorless laugh.
“Nothing anyone could do about a consenting adult signing away life and limb to yet another grisly occult ritual, you know?”
“God, I’m so sorry.”
I’m sure she is. Not that it makes a difference. I made up my mind about Tamsin Blackwood’s fate a long time ago. “Nothing anyone can do about it now.”
“Do you at least know who your brother’s scumbag opponent was?”
“Oh, that? Yeah. Not like it matters, though.” I fix Blackwood’s daughter with a flinty-eyed gaze. Tamsin’s not stupid. She obviously knows her father isn’t all sunshine and rainbows. But now, I find myself wondering just how deep her knowledge of his evil goes.
Maybe she deserves to know what her father did to my brother.
If I can drive a real rift between the Blackwoods before Tamsin even enters the arena, Rook will barely have to touch her to make her crumble.
And what kind of second would I be, if I didn’t do everything possible to make my champion’s job easier?
“Alexei Adamovich apparently died in another dueling accident a few years later,” I say. I emphasize the syllables of the offending name carefully and smile at Tamsin, all hard edges. “So I guess what goes around comes around, right?”
Tamsin’s features go slack for a few seconds before she recovers, blinking rapidly. “Right,” she agrees, her voice shaky. “I’m…glad he got what was coming to him.”
It’s an admirable recovery, all things considered. But I’m better at reading people than most realize. And my gut knows, immediately, right in that moment: Tamsin recognizes Alexei’s name.
Which means that Blackwood’s daughter has just discovered that her father’s a murderer.
The next few hours blur together in the frenzy of Tamsin’s aggressive attempts to impose good cheer on me.
Or maybe she’s projecting. I can’t imagine it feels great to have the worst possible rumors about your own father confirmed.
Ironic, in any case, that a night which began with my own clumsy attempts to boost her spirits would end with this kind of role reversal.
You could read it as a kind of comedy, I suppose: two rival magicians falling all over each other to be the nicer one, the more gallant, the more gracious.
Arcane New York rises to the occasion. Tamsin’s hand may be the one tugging me down those winding streets, but the soft-lit storefronts enchant me as surely as they enchant my companion. We’re both magicians, after all.
For a while, we’re both content to pivot from dark family secrets to small talk and oohing and aahing over fancy displays of dueling robes and grimoires.
Or so it seems to me. I’m genuinely surprised when Tamsin rounds on me and blurts out, “Do you ever worry about turning into your parents when you get older?”
I blink quizzically at her. We’ve parked ourselves on the outer porch of a shop selling magical antiques.
Neither of us can come close to affording anything in there.
The porch is nice, though. I like the comfy hammock-style seats they’ve set up outside the doorway, where Tamsin and I swing side by side, talking about nothing of consequence.
Until now, I guess. I lick my lips awkwardly.
“I’ve never really thought about it,” I say carefully.
It’s an honest response—a truly honest response, for once.
“My parents and I aren’t super close. That’s not necessarily a bad thing,” I add hastily as pity threatens to invade Tamsin’s expression.
“I know they love me, but love isn’t the same thing as getting each other, as people.
Mom and Dad, they never really approved or disapproved of having magicians for kids.
I don’t think they had an opinion on magic, period, as long as it made me and Jamie happy.
I guess it helped that we were good at it.
” I shrug. “My parents aren’t bad at being parents.
They take care of me. They want good things for me.
They’ll try their best to listen if I want to talk to them. ”
“But you don’t want to talk to them.”
“More like I don’t have much to say.” I offer Tamsin a crooked smile. “I love my parents. And my parents love me. But it’s love of duty, not preference. We don’t speak the same language. And that’s okay.”
The only person in my family who spoke the same language as me was Jamie.
I shake my head and the unwanted memories with it. “Anyway, to answer your actual question, no, I don’t worry about turning into my parents. I don’t think I could even if I tried.”
Tamsin pulls her knees into her chest as she rocks a little harder on her hammock. She’s frowning, but not at me. “I think maybe my dad and I have the opposite problem. We’re too much alike—care too much about the same things. Maybe that’s why I worry about turning out like him.”
I watch Blackwood’s daughter carefully. It’s not lost on me that this particular crisis of identity has reared its head on the heels of Tamsin’s discovery of what her father did to my brother. “You think you’re going to turn out like your dad because you’re both magicians?”
“That’s a bit of an oversimplification, isn’t it?
” Tamsin huffs a frustrated sigh, but I don’t think it’s directed at me.
“It’s not just that we’re both magicians.
It’s how hungry we both are. How ambitious.
” She shivers as she hugs her knees tighter.
“I’ve seen what Dad’s willing to do to get what he wants.
What if the only reason I haven’t done the same, or worse, is because I haven’t been pushed? Because he does the dirty work for me?”
“That’s bullshit.” The immediacy of my own response surprises me. “I’ve met your dad. You’re nothing like him.”
Truth, and more truth. What’s gotten into me lately?
Tamsin glances at me sidelong. Her pretty cheeks have gone pink. I can’t quite read her face, but if I were the betting type, I’d call her expression hopeful. Something flutters in my belly. “You’re a good friend, Sam. You know that?”
I swallow hard. Now it’s my turn to feel my cheeks go warm. “Not really. I don’t have many friends. Well, unless you count Rook.”
Tamsin laughs. It seems to unlock something inside her. Her posture finally loosens up a little as she lets that white-knuckled grip on her knees go. Her long legs dangle off the edge of hammock, mesmerizing me. “You poor thing.”
“Hey! He’s not that bad!”
Tamsin keeps chuckling for a few seconds before growing somber again. She doesn’t pull her knees back into her chest, though. Instead, her legs continue to dangle as she looks at me thoughtfully, head tilted to one side. “It’s hard, isn’t it?”