Katia let out a bitter laugh. “I doubt that. At the very least, her father’s not a drunk like mine.”

I followed her dark, hazel gaze over to the picnic table where Carl Volkov was sitting. Well, sitting wasn’t really the right word. He was slumped over the table, his head resting in the crook of his elbow. A silver flask was cupped in his free hand, and I was willing to bet it was empty of whatever liquor it had contained.

“I’m sorry. That must be tough.”

Katia shrugged. “Not anymore. Not since I quit expecting him to care about anything besides drinking. Besides, I’ll be eighteen in a few months. Then I can leave him in New York and move down here like I want to. Uncle Nikolai’s already promised me a position. If I win the tournament, he might even name me the Volkov bruiser.”

I stared at her, wondering why she was spilling her guts to me, since I was more or less a complete stranger. Then again, maybe it was easier to reveal your secrets to a stranger, someone who didn’t know you and had no expectations about you and your feelings.

“Once I’m down here working for the Volkovs, I can take the prize money I’ll get from winning the tournament and go to college at night,” Katia continued. “And once I leave New York, I don’t plan on seeing my father ever again.”

“Don’t you think that’s a little harsh?”

She scoffed. “Are you kidding? With a dad who’s drunk all the time? Please. My mom died in a car accident when I was ten, and I’ve been taking care of myself ever since then. I’m tired of looking out for him too. Besides, he’s the dad. He’s the one who should be responsible, instead of crawling up in a bottle all day, every day.” Even though it was dark, I could still see the glimmer of tears in her eyes, but Katia ruthlessly blinked them back.

“I’ve spent the last two years busting my ass at tournaments during the summer, trying to save up for college. But all he does is drink away my prize money. Well, not anymore.” She lifted her chin. “Once I win this tournament and get that money, I’ll be set, and I’ll never have to think about him again.”

Katia gave me a tight smile, then headed out of the trees. She stopped at the picnic table long enough to give her dad a disgusted look, then walked down to the beach. Blake waved her over, and she joined the Draconis by their bonfire. In a minute, Katia was laughing, talking, and joking with Blake and the other guards, as though nothing was wrong.

I stayed where I was, thinking about all the hurt I’d seen in her eyes, as well as her words. Katia wanted to escape, and so did I. But she was running away from something bad, and I, well, I just didn’t want to get my heart broken again. Before tonight, I’d never really thought about how sad and lonely that made me.

Or how much of a coward.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

I stayed in the trees a few more minutes and got my turbulent emotions under control before going back down to the beach.

It was getting late, and the pixies were carrying buckets of water up from the lake to douse the bonfires, while everyone else was packing up to go home. Devon was shoving the cloak he’d draped around my shoulders into his duffel bag when I reached him and Felix.

“Hey,” I said.

“Hey,” Devon replied in a cool voice, his face blank, deliberately not looking at me.

Maybe that was a good thing. I didn’t want to stare into his eyes and see how much I’d hurt him—again. Maybe Katia was right. Maybe I was being stupid. Maybe I should just give in to my feelings and risk everything.

Because Devon really was one of the good guys. He cared about me, and I cared about him. Why shouldn’t we be together? What was I so afraid of? Another broken heart? My heart had been broken plenty of times before, and it was still strong enough. It could take one more beating . . . couldn’t it?

I stepped closer to Devon and opened my mouth, ready to tell him how sorry I was and that I wished I could do the entire night over—

“Can we leave already?” Felix groused, stomping around and kicking sand in every direction. “This party blows.”

I looked past him to see Deah talking with Julio Salazar. She laughed at some joke he made, the sound floating across the beach to us. Felix glowered at them, then kicked up another patch of sand.

“Yeah,” Devon said, still not looking at me. “I think it’s past time we all went home.”

He zipped up his duffel bag, slung it over his shoulder, and stalked away from the bonfire. Felix kicked up another section of beach, and I spotted something gleaming dully in the sand.

“Hey, what’s that?” I said.

I dropped to my knees and started digging through the sand. It only took me a few seconds to uncover the object—a black blade.

Curious, I pulled the sword free. The weapon was still sheathed in a black leather scabbard, as though someone had taken it off and laid it by the bonfire. I frowned. Who would leave their weapon behind? And why?

I held the sword up to the light streaming out from the picnic shelters so I could see the scrollwork better. A single, bushy tree was carved into the center of the hilt, with smaller trees clustered around it.

Devon and Felix realized that I wasn’t following them, and they stopped and stomped back over to me, both of them still angry.

“What is it now?” Felix snapped. “Did you find some pirate treasure buried in the sand?”

“Not exactly.”

I showed them the weapon and pointed out the scrollwork. “Do you know who it belongs to?”

Devon frowned. “That’s Vance’s sword. What’s it doing here? He hardly ever takes it off. And where is Vance?”

We looked around, but none of us spotted him walking up the beach and back over to the fairgrounds with the rest of the crowd.

“Maybe he’s back at the cars already and just forgot his sword. Let me check.” Felix texted his dad. His phone beeped back a few seconds later, and he shook his head. “Dad hasn’t seen him in a couple of hours, and neither has anyone else.”

“Do you think . . . something’s happened to him?” I asked. “I mean, this is Vance we’re talking about. He never met somebody he didn’t want to annoy.”

“He’s probably just making out with some girl in the woods and lost track of time. That’s what he usually does after the tournament.” Devon sighed, but he reached down and pulled a flashlight out of his duffel bag. “But we’ll go look for him.”