by Janeal Falor
I focus on releasing it, letting it dissipate, but as soon as I do, the puff of black whirls toward me. There’s no room to move. I'm already crouched as low as I can, and the ring is just behind me. It creeps closer and closer, snaking past my usual shield. I crouch lower, trying not to let panic overwhelm my senses.
His hands stretch toward me, pushing the cloud spell on. That’s it! His hands. Gathering the bits of magic left inside me, I shove it out at his hands, twisting them back so they point at his chest just as the cloud wisps against my forehead. The center of my forehead goes numb, but the spell fails with his hands now pointed back.
He howls, neck arching back as he struggles against my spell. I sway to my feet, keeping my spell at full force, mud and rain soaking through me, filling the air with their scents. Almost over now. Just have to last a little longer.
Spells fly from him, blood-red and sooty-black. They flick backward toward the crowd, smashing against the protective shield.
His nostrils flare, teeth bared toward me. “Must. Kill. Her.”
Before I think on it, I step back, hands shaking, but the spell holding steady. Then I realize I’m right against the line. Any farther and the ring will change colors, forcing me out. I have to move closer, and give myself some leeway.
Nathaniel continues struggling against my spell, yanking on the last of my energy, growling and snarling like a mad man, but not moving any closer. Taking a ragged breath, I force myself to take a single step forward.
Another howl screeches from him, scraping across my ears. I hold the last of my magic steady, but it’s not going to be enough. Between my weakening state, and his fighting against it, he’s going to break free.
A brunt orange spell rips from him, breaking through the last of my magic. I totter, but stay standing firm as my magic is depleted, his hands free to do their damage. There’s no gathering glee in him like other warlocks would have, just a hex, black and dark silver with flickers of crimson. It slams against my leg, collapsing me to the ground. It’s as if my leg is no longer there, even if I can still see it.
Another comes hurtling at me. Twenty seconds to go, but it’s too long. I’ll be dead.
Desperate, I scream, “Stop!”
And he does.
Chapter Forty-Seven
The moment passes and then another. Did he really just listen to me? Not that I didn’t want him to, but why would he? His expression is bland, nothing of the snarling man from moments ago. I stand and wipe the mud from my face.
“What’s going on?” the Grand Chancellor yells. “Keep fighting.” Though the raging face doesn’t return, Nathaniel zaps a crimson hex. I throw myself in the mud, it squishing beneath me as the light flashes overhead, just missing me. I turn my face toward him and yell again, “No, Nathaniel, stop.”
Again he listens, though I can’t fathom why or what’s going on. Except, wait. Maybe there is something. Something that makes you lose control of yourself and have to listen to others around you.
Swiftly, I whirl toward the crowd and yell before the Grand Chancellor can speak again, “Someone has tampered Nathaniel. He isn’t under his own control. He does whatever anyone says. Whoever did it… is forcing him to fight me to the death and not in line with the tournament rules.”
The crowd is against me enough without my pointing out that the Grand Chancellor set this all up.
“Absurd,” the Grand Chancellor calls out.
But already the crowed is doubting. Their chatter is growing, hopefully wondering if my words could be true. Even though I am just a woman, they can tell something is wrong. That Nathaniel has been stopping and starting at my and the Grand Chancellor’s words.
I yell as loudly as I can from my muddy spot on the ground, “It’s easy enough to figure out. Have several people tell him to do something simple and harmless, but something he wouldn’t do on his own.”
“We aren’t going through such a charade,” the Grand Chancellor says.
But I ignore him. What’s worse, I turn my back on him, at least as well as I can without being able to feel my leg. I hope, with every fiber of my being, that he doesn’t zap a spell at it. “Nathaniel, put your hands on your head.”
He promptly complies, placing both hands on the back of his head. My shoulders sag as the final murmuring of the crowd goes silent. It has to be the Califrasum tea. If that’s truly the case, I should be able to find out.
“What happened to you?” I’m grateful my voice sounds strong and firm. Never before have I so desperately needed it to be so.
“When I refused to illegally increase my magic, Chancellor Ryan forced me to drink something. Once it took effect, he made me take blood magic from five tarnished women.”
A gasp escapes not only me but the entire crowd. Chancellor Ryan! I should have known. At that instant, the time expires, the moment a winner should be declared. It only distracts me for a moment, though. Five women were killed in order for Nathaniel to beat me. I roll to the side, my dead leg flopping to the ground, and vomit atop the dueling ring.
Chapter Forty-Eight
My stomach still churns as I finally turn back toward the Grand Chancellor. Did he know about this? Would he have permitted Chancellor Ryan to do something like this to his own son? Everything about this is so wrong, I can’t bring myself to speak, but it’s no matter. My point has already been proved, and everyone here saw it and knows something is going on.
The only sound is the pattering of rain and the howling of wind. Everyone seems just as focused on the Grand Chancellor as I am. The way his eyes pierce into mine, I don’t relish what’s to happen if he should ever come upon me alone, without the crowd he depends on to keep both his leadership and his sources of trade intact.
He waves his hand. I want to flinch but make my last moments firm and steady. Instead of slamming into me, his spell rises to the crack in the dome and repairs it. How many warlocks did it take to make that the first time? The rain stops, though I’m still soaked and covered with mud. At some point, I started shivering.
The Grand Chancellor’s lips thin. His fingers flex. I don’t like where this is going. “Perhaps there’s been a misunderstanding.”
“It didn’t sound like a misunderstanding.” Lukas’s voice sounds from behind me.
I glance behind me to see the field filling with not just him and my other guards but other duelers. And the boxes, people are standing in them, coming to the front. Even in Serena’s box next to the Grand Chancellor. Every person is standing with their focus directly on him.
“No mistake at all,” Councilman Daniel adds from his box.
And soon the air is full of voices in support but not of anything I ever expected them to be in support of. Me.
The growing number of people calling out grows the feeling within me that I’ve done exactly what I wanted to. Most of these people are no longer what my existence represents. They are standing up for me. A woman who does magic.
The Grand Chancellor holds up a hand, but the crowd doesn’t silence right away. The voices take much longer to fade and show proper respect. When they finally silence, he leaves them hanging a moment before speaking.
“It would appear that she is… correct.” A tick in his eyes is the only hint at how strongly he disagrees with this. “I will question my son upon his returning to himself, and the matter will be investigated. Ryan will no longer be part of the council and will remain in my custody until the entire matter has been dealt with appropriately.”
At the back of the Grand Chancellor’s box, Ryan shows no emotion, doesn’t give hint one way or another as to how this makes him feel. Likely nothing too bad will befall him if it was what the Grand Chancellor wanted. The thought makes me want to seethe, but there’s no energy left for it. At least he won’t be on the council and out torturing girls.
The Grand Chancellor starts to turn, but I can’t entirely leave it at that. “And the tournament,” I call out. “Since Nathaniel is not able to finish his participation in t
he duel…”
I let my words trail so that everyone knows where they are going and what they mean but let them come to the conclusion themselves.
The Grand Chancellor snaps back around, his face not guarded against the hatred he feels toward me for a brief moment. He quickly schools his features, but not quickly enough. I know how strongly he detests me, but at least a few others have to have seen it as well. His crisp veneer is beginning to show flaws.
“Forgive me, this business with my son and the Chancellor has rattled me.” Then something seems to change, his lips curling into a smile. “Cynthia is the champion. Her reward shall be given in three hours.”
He whisks away faster than the crowd can cheer. But cheer they do, or at least many of them, much more than I would have expected. Both men and women, Chardonians and those from other countries, are cheering me on. Everyone has seen what I can do, and now I know what I can do as well. I am no longer the girl who forced herself to always hide everything. I am Cynthia. A warlock. Champion of the Chardonian tournament.
But even with all those wondrous, unbelievable things, the Chancellor's smile and quick getaway have me worried.
“Do they usually wait to reward the champion?” I ask Zade when he reaches me.
“No. It’s always done immediately.”
It’s good my leg is dead and I’m stuck on the ground. Otherwise I’d have trouble staying steady on my feet. What does the Grand Chancellor have planned for me?
Chapter Forty-Nine
Moments later, several warlocks arrive to take Nathaniel away. Their hurried departure heads in the same direction the Grand Chancellor left. Will anything bad happen to him because of this? Does it even matter? Before today, he seemed all right, but now it’s difficult to think of him without seeing his face snarling, his voice growling.
“Cynthia.”
I jump.
Lukas places a hand on my shoulder. “It’s over now.”
That’s right. It’s over. I don’t have to think on him anymore, though I’m certain my nightmares will still try.
“Can we take you to a healer? Or bring one here?” His gaze is hovering on my dead leg. The one completely lost of feeling.
“That probably would be wise.”
“Yes, it would,” Zade says, reminding me of his own permanent limp. “Chadwick is already on his way to fetch one to come to you.”
“What if…” The dead weight of my leg is heavy.
“Don’t start down that road until we know,” he says.
The dead weight of my leg grows more burdensome as the minutes tick by. A slump more and more with each passing minute, only Lukas’s coat keeping me out of the mud. The crowd is gathered around, giving some space between us, but pressed tight together. Fears creep in, pounding against my skull. What has this path I choose cost me? I glance at Zade wondering if he regrets the choices that lead him to have a permanent limp. He stares at the ground a moment before looking up at me, regret fueled by something I don't understand burning in his eyes.
“I was wrong.” Zade's voice is so quiet, I have to strain to hear him. “I was so wrong.”
“What do you mean?”
“Showing your magic like this. It was foolish and dangerous, but it was right.” He glances over those gather around us. “They needed this and you were brave enough to give it to them.”
His words settle deep inside, spreading warmth through me. “I couldn't have done it without your help.”
He gives my hand a squeeze and I can't help but think how glad I am that he came into Serena's life. Into my life. If I had a brother, I hope he'd be like Zade. My thoughts dwell less on my injury and more on Zade's approval while we continue to wait. Chardonians may have needed to see my magic but I needed to show it to them as much as they needed to see it.
When the healer finally arrives, he kneels down beside me, quickly going through the motions of restoring me to health. He works quickly and efficiently using a soft blue spell to probe my injury followed by a bright yellow one. Thankfully it mends my leg, though not with pain. It's nothing compared to what Zade has to live with or how I might have not lived at all. The pain affects me very little and quickly leaves.
“You're going to be just fine,” the healer says. “Try and get some rest when you can.”
Relief fills me as I thank him and he moves back through the crowd. As time passes, I feel better physically, the exhausted state of my magic leaves a gaping hole. A few days will help, but until then, there’s nothing I can do to help myself.
We hover around the field, waiting for the Grand Chancellor to return. Chadwick, Lukas, and Xyer stay close by as people come to talk to me. There’s only a few at first, including Councilman Daniel and Annabelle. But as they come, it seems to bolster the confidence of others, and soon I’m conversing with more people than I ever have before.
Not everyone is excited or curious with my victory. Some leave or stay in the stands and boxes giving dark looks. The few from Envado seem pleased, though. Those from Chryos seem a little more mixed. I hear one tell Lukas, “This isn’t going to keep our coal trade open. It’s going to send them into a civil war.”
War? Is that really what I’ve started? I hope not. I only wanted to do magic and to show other women that they could do the same. War would bring uncertainty and death.
The chattering stops slowly, like a wave of silence rushing toward me. I turn around to see that the crowd has parted for the Grand Chancellor who is striding forward, his eyes bright with accomplishment. And there’s someone behind him. Someone I can’t make out, but whose bulk sticking out from behind the Grand Chancellor seems familiar. As soon as the Grand Chancellor sees me watching, he shifts to let the person behind him show as they continue toward us. My breath catches. A boulder lodges in my chest. Father.
My mind stays blank for too long. By the time it starts working again, they are almost to me and there’s no time left to think. Only time for icy cold to permeate through me.
The Grand Chancellor stops a few feet from me. Father stays behind him and to the side a little, his expression completely blank. What is this? What is he doing here? Are they punishing him more? Or is he here to punish me?
I keep my face impassive, but inside I’m like fire and ice, a burning cold that threatens to overwhelm me.
“Cynthia Stephen’s daughter,” the Grand Chancellor’s gleeful voice carries through the field, making the iciness stab through me in ragged cuts, though I refuse to let them show. “You, my dear, are the champion of our tournament, and it is time for your reward.”
My lungs squeeze painfully. I slowly take a breath, using it to help keep control of the facade that’s desperately trying to break.
“I thought it would only be fitting to have Stephen here. You see, he very recently completed his sentence and has showed the proper remorse for his… mistake,” the Grand Chancellor says. “Because of his sincere remorse and desire to right his wrongs, I’ve forgiven him and reinstated him to the council.”
This is bad. This is very bad.
“Since he is a member of the council again, he can give you your reward. I thought it would be fitting, would it not? To have a parent delivering the reward like I was so fortunate to do in years past.” His eyes are sharp with anger, but brightened with glee. “If you please, Stephen.”
Father steps forward, a trophy larger than my head in his hands. I clench my hands together but don’t make a further move. I should pretend that this is good and fine. That the Grand Chancellor has done nothing to bother me. But I can’t bring myself to pretend Father’s presence is a happy one. No, not Father. He is only father, the man that helped give me life, but nothing more. He no longer owns me.
“Hello, father.” I purposefully make his name sound lower case, fitting of what he's earned even if he always demanded more.
“Cynthia.” He hands me the prize, heavy as his stare, and leans closer, his voice so low I doubt anyone else can hear him. “Freedom is temporary.�
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I plaster a big, fake smile on my face. If there’s one thing I know how to fake my way past, it’s father and his threats. “Only your own freedom is fleeting.” I quickly pull away and hold up the trophy, straining against its weight. “For all Chardonian women!”
The crowd around me breaks into cheering. The Grand Chancellor’s face tightens, but only for a moment. I may have the moment, but he is still our ruler. He will do whatever he can to smash the hope I’ve given to our people.
Chapter Fifty
“Does she really have to go?” I ask Zade.
He answers patiently, though we’ve already been over this a plethora of times since the tournament. “She promised our mom she would only stay as long as things were fairly safe. They aren’t anymore. She should have left before the tournament. You should all be going with her.”
“Maybe we should,” Serena says, “but we’re needed here to help women see the road we’ve started them on.”
“The Grand Chancellor isn’t taking his son’s disgrace and defeat lightly,” Zade says. “Repercussions are coming. I just want you all safe.”
“Serena’s right,” I say. “We know you love us and don’t want us hurt or back under father's control, but we are needed here.”
“But you’ve got your foul wish with me, Zade.” Waverly turns her back on him and wraps me in a hug.
Emotions try to clog my words, but I force past them. “I will miss you.”
“We all will,” Serena adds as she gets a hug of her own. The other girls have already said good-bye, Bethany keeping them inside while we see her off. I step closer to Lukas and lean into him as he puts an arm around me.
“Be sure to write us and let us know you’re safe,” Serena says.
“Only if you promise to spell back your replies.”