by Lucia Ashta
The king, unconcerned by either of our reactions, continued his performance. “I’ve asked Galen to go through the motions of a mock sparring session as a courtesy to her, so that she might understand who—and what—she faces by challenging the royal court of the fae. Perhaps after this little session she’ll understand she’s better off forgetting about the land of the fae and making haste in leaving our Golden Forest forever.”
The king projected his voice across the stands, and when he raised his voice to end in a crescendo, the crowd exploded in applause. I wouldn’t deny the king knew how to work a crowd, even if he wasn’t a stickler for the finer points of the truth.
“I give to you: Prince Heir Galen Erion of the Fae.” He waited for another round of thunderous applause. “And his challenger: Rina Nelle Mont … of Earth.”
Silence settled across the stands, but at least no one booed me as Leander made his way to my side, his mouth pressed into a subtle scowl. He wasn’t any more pleased by his father’s display than I was.
He drew to my side and extended a hand to the small of my back, in a way he’d touched me so many times, but he let his hand drop to his side before making contact. “There’s one way to avoid this fight,” he whispered, though I doubted anyone would hear us over the crowd’s growing excitement.
“What? Tell me. I’ll do it,” I said.
“You can forfeit the challenge and be done with it.”
“You mean give up.”
“Basically, yeah.” But his eyes were trained on his father and brother. Only once did he turn to take in his mother. I followed the line of his gaze, but she didn’t visibly react to either of us.
“You’re suggesting I admit defeat and screw this little agreement you made with your father.”
“Yes.” Finally, he looked down at me. “Don’t think of it like admitting defeat. Think of it as being smart. I should have never gotten you into this in the first place. I just thought there’d be a chance for us to be together … out in the open.”
I wanted that too.
“But it’s too much,” he said. “Galen won’t be able to hold back now that Father’s made such a show of it. He’ll be forced to flaunt his talent for the fight or else be deemed a coward, letting down the royal throne.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
He shrugged. “I should’ve known better. It’s always like this. I just thought maybe this one time I’d be allowed to have what I wanted. I thought…” He stared out into the distance as if not noticing the hundreds of jeering fae of all shapes and sizes who were here for … what, blood?
My breath hitched when I noticed Adalia among the crowd. The human-sized brunette alone looked terrified at the prospect of seeing me battle her prince heir. We made eye contact across a hundred or so feet, but even from that distance I could sense her apprehension for me. She didn’t give me any chance at defeating Galen.
Leander lowered his lips to my ear, but he didn’t get too close. “Please forgive me, Rina. I’m so sorry to have put you in this situation. Just forfeit the fight and I’ll portal us out of here right away.”
Sounded like a fine plan to me, but…
“If I forfeit, I’ll never be allowed to come back here, and I’ll never be allowed to be with you.”
His face fell. “Yep. That about sums it up. But it was going to happen anyway, no matter what, so it’s no real loss if we look at it like that.”
“If that’s no real loss, then neither is my fighting Galen.”
His silver hair flung around his face as he shook his head. “No, he’ll hurt you. No matter what he said before, he’ll have to fight fairly. I can’t let him hurt you.”
“Won’t someone call the fight before it gets too serious?”
“Sure, I can, but—”
“I’ve already lost my mountain lion. I’m not sure I’m willing to lose more without at least a fight.”
“This won’t be a fight, it’ll be a beating.”
“One that you can call before it gets too bad.”
“Yes, but—”
“If I don’t do this, we’ll have lost our chance at being together without even trying.”
He didn’t say anything for a few moments, which were filled with the frantic conversations of the crowd. It grew louder with each passing moment; obviously the fae were no slouches in the news-spreading department. Finally, he said, “I’m sorry, Rina, but he’s simply too good at combat. I’m lucky if I beat him half the time when we fight each other, and I’ve been at this my entire life.”
“Obviously I can’t beat him in hand-to-hand combat or at weapons. I’m not stupid enough to think I could beat him that way.”
“I didn’t think you were stupid for a second. Please don’t say that.”
I waved him off, my thoughts speeding up as I readied myself to do this. “I only have one chance of beating him, and that’s magic. I can’t call on my lion anymore, but my mage magic is there … somewhere.”
He waited.
“I know it’s been entirely unreliable, but the Academy Spell hasn’t kicked me out of the school yet, which must mean that I do still have magic. If I have it, then it’s only a matter of me finding it.”
“True...”
“If I can call on my witchy side, then there’s a chance I could hold him off enough for you to call the fight or whatever. Then I can train my mage magic and properly challenge him later, whenever I’m ready.” I chewed on a nail. “At least it wouldn’t be a straight-out defeat. At least I’ll have given us a shot, right?” I moved on to chew on the next nail.
“This is terrible. You should never have to do this. You should never even have to consider doing this.”
“True dat. But here we are, and I think we’re worth a little fight, don’t you?”
“Absolutely. But it should be I fighting for us, not you.”
“You’ve been fighting for us from the start. Now, tell me about your brother. What should I expect?”
Leander narrowed his eyes and waggled his jaw, as if debating whether to approve of my plan or not. But I wasn’t asking for his permission. I wasn’t giving up on us without a fight, not after what we’d shared the last several weeks. Those long nights I’d spent in his arms were worth a little beating if that’s what it came to.
“Tell me,” I insisted.
“Fine.” He looked far from convinced. “Galen isn’t a shifter like me. He’s a mage, though he leans on his physical prowess to make up for what he lacks in control over his magic. He’ll come at you with weapons. He’ll try to get you to fight him in traditional combat. At most, he might fling a few plasma balls at you.”
Say what? I pretended hurling plasma balls didn’t freak me the hell out and nodded for him to continue.
“If you can get your magic to come to you in time, then even if you just shoot a single plasma ball at him, it might be enough to satisfy my father and give us time for me to train you, or at least for us to get some help from a mage or something.”
“My dad’s a mage,” I said absently.
“See, he could help.”
I was nodding again, mostly to convince myself that this wasn’t the craziest idea I’d ever had, and I’d had my fair share of them.
“Let’s talk about this though, Rina. My brother is a formidable opponent.”
“I have no doubt he is.” But I was done discrediting myself. There was absolutely no chance of me becoming a witch powerful enough to retain my place at the academy, which wasn’t intended for witches, if I didn’t challenge myself. If I didn’t fight, I’d have lost more than my shifter magic. If I didn’t believe in myself, why should anyone else? But more importantly, if I didn’t fight for what I believed in, what kind of person would that make me?
I wasn’t a quitter, never had been, and since I was already roped into this ridiculous scenario with its equally ridiculous odds of victory, I was going to give it all I had. I just hoped all I had was enough. After last term, I needed a win, even if it w
as a small one. I needed to find reason to believe in the magic of life again. I needed … hell, I needed to fight for what I believed in. And I needed to believe in myself.
Before Leander could stop me, I strode into the center of the arena, his hand reaching for me too late. The crowd hushed in waves as it noticed. The king and Galen turned to face me while the queen leaned forward in her seat.
“People of the fae,” I called out. “My challenge to the prince heir is in no way a slight upon this great court or any of you. I wish only to earn my place among you.”
Not a single whisper disrupted my balls-to-the-wall announcement. Not even I’d believed I’d be this brazen before the words exited my mouth. But I’d firmly entered the go-big-or-go-home zone. I was playing for keeps.
I splayed my arms out to either side in front of me, just as the king had done. “I haven’t yet trained to prepare to fight the mighty Prince Galen, but I aim to earn the right to do so. It is my honor to give you a taste of what is to come.”
I half faced Galen. “Today, we fight!”
The crowd erupted into a raucous din while I secretly wondered if I’d lost my mind entirely or just a little bit. I sounded like I was on the set of Gladiator. I plastered a winning smile on my face, trying to convince myself of my sanity as much as I did them.
6
The crowd roared while Leander, Galen, and the king blinked at me. The king was the first to snap out of his shock at my theatrics, an amused smirk quirking up the sides of his mouth. He spun back around to face the crowd. “Contestants, choose your weapons!”
Another roar erupted from the stands, perplexing me. Many of the fae I’d encountered during my stay here had appeared so jovial, not the kind of creatures who’d enjoy seeing their prince pummel a guest. And clearly a pummeling was coming.
Leander rushed to my side. The usually composed second prince didn’t manage to conceal the frantic nerves racing through him.
“Wow, nothing like having no faith in me,” I said.
His eyes widened. “What? No! I have plenty of faith in you. It’s just…”
“I know, I know.” I waved him away. “I just want to get this over with. What weapons should I choose?” As one, we turned toward the wooden racks lining one side of the royal dais, to the right of the queen. I noticed the queen’s gaze on me, her eyes alight for once, as if she’d enjoyed my display.
“Well, what weapons are you most comfortable with?”
I quirked a come-on eyebrow at him.
“Okay, then what weapons have you seen before?”
I studied the racks, making out lots and lots of shiny, pointy things—far too many. “I guess I’ve seen most of them … in comic books and movies and stuff.”
“Have you ever trained with weapons?”
“Nope.”
He nodded a little too fervently. “Got it. No problem.”
I smiled to ease the tension. “What do you think Galen will choose?”
“His go-to weapons are the short swords, so that’s a good guess, unless he thinks it’ll be easier and faster to defeat you with the … hmm, maybe the staff, or it could also be the bow, or maybe even the broadsword. It’s really hard to know.”
“Let me guess, because he’s good at all of them.”
“Yeah, pretty much.” He offered me an apologetic look. “It also depends on what he thinks he has to do to sufficiently please Father.”
“Okay. So I’ll just pick whatever. It’s not like I’m going to be fighting him with the weapons anyway.”
“You need to at least defend yourself when he comes at you,” he said urgently. “If you don’t, he won’t give you the chance to call on your mage powers. You’ll be down in ten seconds, probably less.”
I chuckled morosely at his pep talk—which lacked all pep. “Any more glowing advice?”
He grimaced. “Sorry, Rina. I’m just worried.” His hands fluttered about his sides as if he wanted desperately to touch me, but wouldn’t allow himself to do so in front of all the fae. “Just … be careful, okay? I’ll be watching closely so I can call the fight as soon as you get in trouble.”
“How about if I get in trouble?”
He half grimaced, half grinned with chagrin. “Yeah, that. That sounds much better.”
Galen swept past us and strapped on a weapons belt before pulling a staff as tall as he was from the rack, along with a stubby, wooden baton. He gave Leander a quick wink as he tucked the baton in a holster apparently made for it.
“Thank the gods,” Leander said in a rush of breath. “He is planning on taking it easy on you.”
“Well, this isn’t supposed to be the real fight anyway. Why wouldn’t he choose the wooden weapons?”
“Because of Father.”
I waited for more of an explanation, but none was forthcoming. Relieved that at least the trained warrior wouldn’t be aiming sharp, slicy things at me, I walked over to the weapons rack and chose the identical weapons he had. Their wooden surfaces were scratched and marred from hard use. I chose a weapons belt that appeared made for the smaller waists of women and went to strap it on, only to realize I had to put my weapons down first. I replaced the weapons in their assigned slots on the rack and buckled the belt on to a chorus of soft laughs from our audience. Rookie mistake, but hey, I was a rookie.
I purposefully pushed away the reactions of the crowd, beginning to zone into myself. The only point of doing this was to avoid a beating long enough to secure my chance to fight Galen for real sometime in the future—or maybe never, who knew. But I wasn’t going to manage any kind of magic if I paid attention to the crowd, or anything outside of myself really.
I focused on the way my heart beat steadily in my chest, the way energy flowed like warmth through my torso and limbs, on the way the mid-morning sunshine beat against my long hair, warming my crown. I listened for the rhythmic whooshing of my pulse as it echoed through my ears. I reminded myself that—almost certainly—I had mage magic somewhere inside me and tentatively searched for its source, warming up.
When I spun back around, I no longer scanned the audience or the royals in the arena with me. I sensed Leander’s attention on me, but didn’t meet his expectant gaze. I held my back straight and stalked toward the center of the large arena, doing my best to convince myself that I’d somehow be able to pull this off. And then I released my expectations, rolling my neck to loosen it.
I sensed the movements of the three men surrounding me, but only reached deeper within. I absolutely needed a head start on finding my magic. When the king turned to face his people once more, arms up in the air again, I didn’t pay attention to what he said. I closed my eyes, working to claim stillness within and struggling.
I huffed, releasing my frustration, before inhaling deeply and slowly. I sorted through the energy swirling inside. First alighting on the remnants of my mountain lion, a stuttered, mournful cry bubbled up before I managed to stifle the debilitating sense of loss. She’d left behind a hint of her former self, like a memento of what it’d felt like to be joined with something so magnificent.
Roughly, I pushed away the waves of emotion that threatened to overtake me and dug deeper, rummaging around old pains and fears. When I encountered the tumultuous guilt I had around unintentionally bringing about my mother’s death immediately after my birth, I shoved it further down, where I’d hopefully never have to examine it. Where was my mage magic? How had I found it when Rage and Fury had kidnapped Ky and me? And before then, when I’d accidentally activated it at the academy?
“Rina!” Leander’s sharp cry jostled me from myself.
Opening my eyes with a start, I discovered the arena empty but for Galen and me, and half the crowd on its feet gawking at me—though that might have been due to the fact that at least a quarter of the fae were pint-sized and couldn’t see above the heads of the others.
Galen advanced toward me slowly, twirling the staff above his head in one hand like a fancy baton-twirler in a parade. Without thi
nking, I imitated him, twirling easily though I hadn’t attempted this in a decade. The crowd oohed, amazed by my third grade PE skills. Score.
But soon I allowed my eyes to glaze over again, tracking Galen through a vague, blurry image. It wasn’t like I’d be able to properly deflect his attacks anyway. What I did need was the focus to call on my magic. Call as I might, though, it didn’t surge forward as I’d hoped it would.
Galen came within striking range with that long staff of his. He ceased his twirling, so I did the same. And when he brought his second hand along the first to hold the staff in front of him for a strike, I copied his positioning—all the while only half aware of my actions.
Come on, magic! Where are you?
A wave of panic attempted to take hold of me. As calmly as I could manage, I pushed it away. As if I were having some sort of New-Agey, out-of-body experience, I moved as if someone else were in control of my body, while I turned my mind’s eye toward my insides. My mage magic was here somewhere, now I was sure of it. Just as I’d sensed the souvenir of my lion, I sensed my witchiness. It was almost within reach...
Smack. My head snapped back from the jolt of Galen’s first strike, my left upper arm stinging like it was on fire, even through the padded material of my top. My eyes burned from the unexpected impact as I struggled for composure. If this was him taking it easy on me, I was in trouble. I had no idea a wooden staff could hurt so much. I grimaced and worked to return to my general lack of body awareness, without any immediate success.
Galen swung his staff overhead and smacked my right thigh in a lightning-fast strike. I hissed at the new surge in pain. I’d definitely end up with welts and bruises where he was hitting me, if not worse.
“Two points for Prince Heir Galen,” a man’s voice announced from somewhere behind me.
I brought my staff up in front of me, holding it just as Galen did, but as I moved to circle him, he lunged forward, jabbing me in the ribs with its blunt point. “Ow, motherfu—” I grunted, ignoring my natural instinct to clutch at the sites of injury.