Chapter 28
Talisa
The dining hall that night felt like it belonged to the Circle of the Open Hand and the six commoner teams who’d survived the first round.
My sisters and I walked in together, with Elio flanking me, and the commoner tables erupted.
Hands reached for us as we walked to the food service counter at the back of the hall, voices called our names, and students—some of them aristocrats—from every year came over to pat our backs and shake our hands and tell us, over and over, how proud they were of us.
I felt dizzy with triumph and exhaustion and the strange, humming energy that had been living in my chest since the arena.
Elio’s hand settled at the small of my back. It stayed there as we pushed through the crowd, his touch warm even through the layers of wool and linen I wore. I could feel each point of contact where his fingers spread.
He’d been touching me almost continuously since our victory in the arena.
His hand on my waist. His fingers cupping my elbow, steadying me when I trod on the hem of my academic gown while climbing the amphitheater steps.
The brush of his arm against mine as he reached past me for a piece of my favorite fruit in the line at the refreshment station before handing it to me.
Each one made my pulse jump in my throat and sent spikes of warm pleasure through my chest and belly, making me crave more.
It was as if he’d decided the rules had changed between us. My heart swelled with hope and breathless excitement. I found I couldn’t look him in the eye without my face growing hot.
We got our supper trays and found spots had been saved for us at our usual table.
As soon as we sat down, we were immediately surrounded. I’d never been the center of so many admiring looks and compliments. I hated it because I knew I didn’t deserve the praise. If it hadn’t been for Elio, I would’ve stood there, frozen in panic, until time ran out.
Mira and Juno had been the ones who had done all the right things today. They richly deserved the ring of faces turned toward them with shining eyes.
With each fresh accolade, I squirmed uncomfortably. I had to push down the desire to correct each piece of praise with the truth about how my moment of panic had nearly ruined everything.
“So,” said the second-year who’d been assigned to Station Nine in the first heat, and who’d been eliminated along with the other team he’d been paired against. “How did you do it? Seriously. Because I swear that fountain was rigged to break any containment spell anyone tried.”
I opened my mouth, but Elio spoke first.
“She did it.” He turned to me, his amber eyes crinkling at the corners with his warm smile. “I was blasting that poor little tree with water, and Talisa just reached in and fixed it. Fixed my spells, too.” He laughed, shaking his head. “I don’t know how she managed it.”
The warmth in my chest, which had been humming steadily all afternoon, flared hot enough to make my face burn.
“That’s not true,” I said. “We did it together. I couldn’t have stabilized anything if you hadn’t been restraining the flow of water. You kept that fountain from washing the sapling away.”
Elio’s hand found mine under the table. His thumb traced the ridge of my knuckles once, slowly, and the words died in my throat.
“Sure,” he said sarcastically. “That’s exactly what happened. I was a pillar of control and composure the whole time.”
Everyone laughed. Someone refilled my cup of spiced cider.
Someone else passed me a plate heaped with iced ginger biscuits shaped like our bronze laurel wreath pins.
The heat in my chest spread outward, filling every inch of me with a delicious, joyous lightness that made me want to laugh for no reason at all.
Across the hall, I heard Lukhan’s name, repeated in congratulatory tones.
I heard Damien’s deep voice, answering something with measured courtesy.
I heard a girl’s voice, high and carrying, predicting that Lord Lukhan and Mr. Corvellan would sail through the next two rounds without breaking a sweat.
I glanced over.
Lukhan sat at his usual table, his posture perfect, one hand resting lightly on the stem of his goblet.
Despite being the center of admiring attention, he wasn’t smiling.
He rarely did in public. That brief, unguarded flash of joy in the arena when he and Damien won their round was locked away again behind the stony mask he wore in public.
Damien sat at his right hand, his gray eyes moving around the dining hall with a soldier’s alertness.
For a moment, I let myself imagine it: facing them in a magical duel. My magic and Elio’s against their spells. The thought sent a thrill through me that had nothing to do with fear.
I wanted it. I wanted to stand across from Lukhan FitzMurad and make his composure crack by defeating him where everyone could see. I wanted to see what happened in a situation where he couldn’t intimidate or sabotage or outspend.
“So,” Elio murmured, his mouth close to my ear. His breath sent a pleasant shiver down my spine. “Planning your victory speech after we defeat our mutual friends over there?”
I turned to him, startled. His gaze was warm and knowing.
“Maybe,” I admitted. “Is it that obvious?”
“Only to me.” He squeezed my hand. “And only because I’m thinking the same thing.”
The warmth between us shifted, thickened. For a heartbeat, I thought he might lean in. The table was loud, the hall was crowded, and in the press of bodies and voices, maybe no one would notice if he—
“Elio.”
A woman’s voice came from behind us. Elio straightened so fast that he nearly knocked over his goblet of cider.
I twisted around to look at the newcomer.
His older sister stood there, her arms crossed, her expression worried. I recognized her from the painted family portrait that hung in his sitting room.
She wore the black gown of a fourth-year student, the cuffs and collar embroidered with the silver and blue symbols of her magical affinities.
Her amber eyes—so like Elio’s in shape and color—moved from her brother’s face to mine with the careful assessment of someone evaluating a contract for hidden clauses.
Like Elio, she had thick, curling chestnut hair, though hers was much longer and tamed in a loose braid.
“Danila!” Elio exclaimed. He sounded younger, almost boyish. He jumped to his feet, pulling me up with him. “You came to the Trials? I didn’t see you in the stands.”
“The upriver ferry was delayed, and I arrived late,” she said. Her voice was measured, with the same soft Espolan lilt that flavored Elio’s words. “Congratulations to both of you.”
She looked at me directly for the first time. Her gaze was level, unsmiling, and I had the distinct impression that she was measuring me against some standard I hadn’t been informed of.
“Thank you,” I said. “It was—”
“Unexpected,” she finished. “Yes. No one expects much from the first-years. Everyone assumes you’re only competing to gain experience for future Trials.”
There was nothing objectionable in her tone. She hadn’t said anything unkind.
But something in the set of her mouth, the way her eyes lingered on my face for a beat too long, made the warmth in my chest contract and cool. I sensed she disliked me, and I had no idea why. We’d never met before.
Elio didn’t notice. Or if he did, he ignored it. He was beaming up at his sister with the transparent delight of a younger sibling receiving sought-after approval.
“Did you see us compete?” he asked. “We nearly lost it when—”
“I saw,” Danila interrupted. Her mouth softened, just a little. It wasn’t quite a smile, but it was the closest thing to one I’d seen from her so far. “You handled the pressure well. Both of you.”
She turned to go, then paused. “Elio. A word?”
“Excuse me,” he told me, and climbed over the bench.
Trying not to be obvious about it, I watched as he followed her a few steps away from the table.
Danila spoke in a low voice, one hand on his arm. Elio listened, nodding, his expression earnest. Whatever she was saying, it wasn’t making him unhappy—his shoulders were relaxed, his head tilted toward hers with the easy affection of someone who trusted the person speaking to him.
When he came back to the table, he was still smiling.
“She’s proud of me,” he said, dropping back down onto the bench beside me. “She didn’t come right out and say it, but she is. I can tell.” He cleared his throat. “She’s also worried that if we do too well in the Trials, we might attract the wrong kind of attention from the aristos.”
“Too late for that,” I said, pushing aside the uneasy feeling Danila had left behind.
Elio chuckled darkly. “She likes to worry, that’s all.”
Maybe I’d read her wrong. Maybe Danila was just very shy, or extremely careful with her words. It didn’t mean she disliked me.
It just meant that she had a totally different personality from her younger brother. That was all.
Elio’s arm settled around my shoulders again, his body pressing warm against my side.
I wound my arm around his narrow waist and let myself lean into him as I watched Lukhan rise from his seat, elegant and unhurried, and make his way toward the doors with Damien at his heels. He didn’t look our way.
Tomorrow, we’d face the challenges of Round Two. I hoped fervently that our paths would cross.
∞∞∞
Our dormitory suite was quiet after the dining hall’s noise.
We sisters claimed the sofa—Mira on my left, Juno on my right, their shoulders pressed against mine in the way they’d been doing since they were small enough to both fit on my lap at once.
Elio took the armchair across from us, one leg folded under him, a lock of hair falling across his forehead. I longed to reach out and push it back.