CHAPTER SIXTEEN

“This is ridiculous,” I grumbled. “Completely, utterly ridiculous.”

White feathers fell down in my face. I huffed out a breath, trying to blow them out of my eyes, but the feathers dropped right back down to where they’d been before. Annoyed, I reached up, yanked several of them out of the brim of my black cavalier hat, and stuck them in a nearby trash can. The motions made my black cloak billow out around my shoulders before dropping neatly back into place, while my black, knee-high boots creaked with every step I took. Tight black pants and a sleeveless white silk shirt completed my ridiculous ensemble.

“Tell me again why we have to dress up like extras from a Three Musketeers movie while we’re fighting?”

“Because the tourists expect us to dress like this. It’s all part of the show for them.” Poppy grinned and tipped her purple hat at me. “Just be glad that your Family colors are black and white. I look like I’m wearing a bunch of grapes on my head.”

I grinned. “Well, as long as the rubes are entertained.”

She grinned again and rolled her eyes.

It was day two of the Tournament of Blades, and Poppy, Devon, and I were standing by the chain-link fence that ringed the stadium floor, waiting for the one-on-one matches to start. The other competitors milled around the area, all of them dressed like us in sleeveless white shirts and black pants, with cloaks and hats bearing their Family colors.

I looked up at the Sinclair box, where Claudia, Reginald, and Mo were sitting, with Oscar zipping around and around them just like he had yesterday. The pixie had started stuffing himself with junk food the second we’d gotten to the fairgrounds, and he was now on his third cinnamon-sugar pretzel. With his sugar rush, I half expected him to forget there was a sheet of glass in the front of the box and fly straight into it.

I scanned the rest of the crowd, my gaze finally locking onto the Draconi box. Victor was sitting up there, along with Seleste, who was gesturing with her hands and seemed to be talking a mile a minute. She was wearing a pretty white sundress with black polka dots, and her blond hair was sleeked back into a high bun, making her look far more normal and sane than she had last night.

Seleste noticed me staring and actually got to her feet, stepped up to the front of the glass, and waved at me, her whole face lighting up with happiness.

I wondered if she remembered me, Lila, from last night, or if she still thought that I was my dead mom. Hard to tell. Either way, I didn’t wave back at her.

The officials, still dressed in their neutral white, stepped onto the stadium floor. The obstacle course was gone, but the cold spring and rock formations remained, since they were a natural part of the landscape. They would make the duels more exciting, providing obstacles for the fighters to maneuver around, duck behind for cover, or use as springboards to lash out at each other. A separate, foot-high ring of stones enclosed the larger rocks and the cold spring.

This was where the one-on-one matches would take place. Devon had told me that a smaller version of the rope ladder was usually included in the ring as well. Not this time. Maybe the officials had realized that yesterday hadn’t been an accident and didn’t want a repeat performance.

A low drumbeat rang out, and the crowd hushed, anticipating the start of today’s action.

“And now, last year’s returning champion, Deah Draconi!” a voice rang out through the sound system.

After yesterday’s fiasco with the obstacle course, Deah had been seeded first as the reigning winner and had the privilege of having the first match of the day. She strode out into the center of the stadium, her red cloak rippling behind her like a wave of blood. Deah stopped outside the stone competition ring and bowed low to one side of the stadium, then the other. Cheers erupted, and a smile split her face. In that moment, she seemed genuinely happy.

Then she glanced up at the Draconi box. Seleste was on her feet again, cheering and clapping, but Victor stayed seated, his hands folded in his lap. Deah’s smile slipped off her face, and her eyes dimmed, although she covered it up by whipping off her red hat and cloak and passing them over to one of the officials.

Deah’s competition, a Volkov guard, was announced. He also removed his hat and cloak, and the two of them faced each other in the center of the stone ring. Devon had explained the tournament rules to me on the ride down here this morning. For today’s rounds, everyone could use their weapons of choice, and the person to draw first blood won. Debilitating or killing blows were not allowed and would get you tossed out of the tournament immediately. Healers from each Family, including Felix and Angelo, were standing by the white tent with their magic and bottles of stitch-sting, ready to patch up the folks who got bloodied first.

The official in the ring with Deah and the Volkov guard raised his hand, then dropped it and scurried out of the way, and the match began.

The Volkov guard went on the attack, raising his sword high, charging at Deah, and trying to overpower her with his opening blow. She gave him a cool look, then spun out of the way. The guard stumbled past her, but she was already whipping around and going on the offensive.

I’d never seen Deah fight before, but I could see why she was the tournament champion. She was quick and decisive, with no wasted movement or effort. The Volkov guard had a strength Talent, and she knew better than to engage him head on. Instead, she kept moving around him, always making him skirt the rock formations or hop over them to come after her, then sliding away. A minute into the fight, and the guard was already sweating and sucking wind, while Deah looked as calm and composed as ever.

“She’s good,” I said. “Much better than I’d thought she would be.”

“Why do you say it like that?” Poppy asked. “Did you think she won by cheating or something?”

I shrugged. “She’s a Draconi. The thought had occurred to me.”

Devon shook his head. “There’s no way for anyone to cheat. Not in the individual matches. The officials make sure of it. We can use our magic and weapons, but they make sure that’s all we’re using.”

Just like he said, the five officials were stationed around the ring, watching the competitors’ every move.

Deah hopped up onto a long, jagged, three-foot-high rock. The Volkov guard slammed his sword down onto the rock, hard enough to make chips fly out of it, but Deah had already skipped out of the way and jumped off the other end. I couldn’t help but be impressed. With moves like that, she would make a good thief.