“Because this is as much of a show as a fight. Now roll.”
I almost comment on how bossy she is, but stop when I realize it’s leadership, natural bloody leadership. She must be frustrated, angry, nervous, and Gods know what else, but beneath all that she is under control. No wonder Father employed her. I should probably take notes.
She seizes my cloak from me and hangs it up. When she turns my sleeves are rolled to the crooks of my elbows.
“Good Gods.” She starts and stares at my arms. Giddy pride flows through me. I want her to keep looking. She blinks to snap out of it, and the slight movement is intoxicating. “Do, ah, all men in the academy have that much”—she coughs—“power?”
“I got to be Raja Jatin’s guard for a reason, right?” The lie comes easy enough.
She is thinking something; the wheels and cogs are churning in her eyes. I want to know what exactly. Did my Touch give my birthright away that quickly?
“You must be, what? A seven, an eight?”
Only rajas and ranis can harness all nine, so it would only make sense that I were lower, much lower. Kalyan is a six, but with my markings…“Yeah, seven.” I throw out the number hoping it is both low and high enough to make sense with the intricate designs of my Touch.
She doesn’t miss a beat. “What can’t you do?”
What can I afford to give up in the ring and still stay undercover? “Red and pink.” I’m surprised even as I sputter out the half-truth, red and pink having always been the trickiest magic for me to cast. But potions won’t be used in the ring and I don’t want to burn someone alive like Ax tried to, so I guess the partial truth works.
Jaya nods. “All right. Now, off with your kurta.”
“Excuse me?”
“We have one minute,” she says as she turns from me. I huff so she knows how annoying this is, then pull the kurta over my head. She holds out one hand, still facing away from me. I pass it over. Without a second thought, she whispers a spell and the fabric tears. The long sleeves rip off easily enough, right below the biceps. She hands my kurta back without looking and waits for me to put it on again. “You good?”
“Yeah.”
She faces me and nods. Her eyes linger on my arms, and despite the situation I smile.
“You shouldn’t—” She pauses. “You can’t wear full sleeves. And this will give you more mobility anyway.”
“What about you, then?” I gesture to her outfit. Both black sleeves stop right at the wrists, so all one can make out is the slight Touch that curls up the back of her left hand.
“Yeah, well, if I were to show my arms to these men…For you it’s an act of aggression. For me it invites challenge. Trustme.”
I’m going to have to trust her to get out of this, but a part of me relishes the idea. I want to trust her, to know her. Know everything.
“Time’s up! Bring this good arm of yours!” Sims shouts as he bustles into the room.
While Kalyan marches onto the platform that leads to the ring, I take the back route. Pushing through the crowds, I find the wooden ladder that ascends to a platform that runs the entire circumference of the underground warehouse. Only fighters and employees are allowed to watch fights from here. We call it the upper deck. I heave myself up and scan to see who else watches from this balcony-like walkway. Looks like the entire group came to observe this one. I spot Rakesh at once and veer away from him. There has been only one time I was trapped up here alone with him and it scared me into intense wariness from then on.
Across the raised walkway, Beckman nods for me to join him. I walk toward him guiltily. Beckman is the best cage caster here and one of the only wizards who is not Vencrin. Cage casting is what he likes doing, is good at doing, and can make money doing. He’s savage in the ring, but he’s still one of my citizens, whom I swore never to harm. Even though he could and might break me in a cage fight.
“Hey,” I say as I sit and dangle my feet over the edge. I grab the railing and slip my arms over it to hold on. “Thanks for earlier.”
“That nothing blood of a wizard is getting worse these days,” he snarls. “He’s a psychopath in the making. Gods, if I were his father…”
A bubble inside my chest expands. Beckman is the father of two little girls. I’ve seen them once, at the market, following their giant of a dad around as if he were one of the gods. It’s one of the main reasons I chose to align myself with him and he has granted me some protection here. Which only means that he doesn’t give Rakesh the opportunity to be alone with me. But in one month I would fight Beckman. What had I done?
“Your guy any good?” he asks.
“He’s not my guy.”
“He’s something to you if you vouched for him to Sims and he wants to brawl with Rakesh.” Beckman’s harsh bearded face lifts in a “got you there” look.
Instead of answering, I stare down at Kalyan as he and Tenson stride into the ring. The two halves of the sphere rise to reconnect like broken wings. They click into place and then clunk as they buckle together. Kalyan twists to analyze the sphere that surrounds him.
This is it. I cannot help anymore, cannot intervene. Maybe I should have left Kalyan to the alleyway. Things can get bloody in the dome too. Kalyan’s gaze blazes through the crowd. Maybe he’s looking for me. I wave, but then feel ludicrous. He won’t know to look upward.
