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Despite the rush of the crowd and the thousands of people yelling all around him, it was as if in that one moment, he heard her. And just her. His dark gaze snapped to the competitors’ box for a split second, and then he rolled out of the way. The edges of his black-and-silver sleeve burned away as the other competitor brought the blue flames down toward him.
“Kerrigan,” Valia gasped. “We’re not supposed to be involved. Protocol dictates—”
“Screw protocol,” Kerrigan said, ignoring Valia’s concern.
Fordham ducked out of the edge of her flames and sent a blast of air toward Herasi before concentrating on Aude. Luckily, Noda had realized what was happening, and she raced forward to help. Both of the third competitors from either team were already out.
Together, he and Noda blasted the other two competitors back. Kerrigan could hear the thud from her seat as they landed heavily on their backs. Bastian waited a full minute before blowing the whistle and announcing Fordham’s team as victors.
Kerrigan blew out a breath.
No knife.
That was good. Really good.
He’d made it. He was a total jerk to her, but she was glad that he was still alive. She could tell him about the knife later in the next rounds. Figure out a way to prepare for it. Not that she had ever been able to prepare for anything that happened in her visions before. But things were changing… escalating. She could feel the urgency in them. And she didn’t know what that meant. She should talk to Helly about it.
But first, she needed to have words with Prince Fordham Ollivier.
18
The Box
Kerrigan stood up to confront Fordham, who was dragging himself off the arena floor with Noda smiling faintly at his side, when Valia slapped a piece of paper against her chest. She coughed in surprise.
“Take this to the top box,” Valia said. She pointed up to the sky as if the master of ceremonies were in the heavens.
Kerrigan opened her mouth to argue, her eyes tracking Fordham closely, but she had no chance. Just then, Master Bastian appeared before her. He was sweating in his long black robes in the Kinkadian humid heat. He took one look at her and frowned disapprovingly.
“Kerrigan, there you are. You disappeared.”
“I was… ill,” she said softly. “But I feel better now. I was just going to take the scores up to the box.”
“I am glad you are better. Next time, let us know, so a healer can be sent.”
“Of course.”
If she’d been able to move, she would have certainly sent for a healer. Fordham clearly hadn’t thought of it.
“Now, hurry along and come back quickly. We’ll discuss your role back inside the shade of the mountain.”
Kerrigan nodded, glanced once more at Fordham, and then turned toward the steps. She would deal with Fordham when she got back.
She took the steps two at a time. Her breathing coming out heavy as the oppressive heat weighed down on her as well. Some of the crowd had already begun to file out of the boxes, but the majority wouldn’t leave until the final scores for the day were announced. Then, it would be a mad dash back to their homes and to the parties that happened each night. The tournament was in the heart of the festival season. Parties and parades and masquerades were all part of the fun.
Kerrigan finally reached the very tip-top of the arena. She leaned forward, gasping for breath. A stitch had formed in her side. She really wasn’t that out of shape, but she was still recovering from the vision.
Finally, when she could straighten again, she stepped into the box for the master of ceremonies. Kerrigan immediately exhaled in relief. By some magic, the box was as cold as a spring night right after the ice melted off the mountains. It cooled the sweat on her neck and sent a soft shiver down her spine. The box itself was lavish beyond measure. Platters of fruit, bread, and cheese were set up on a table along with chilled wine, and attendants were available for any needs. Cushioned chairs sat in rows before the open arena window with the entirety of the arena and the rest of Kinkadia shown before her. This was as good as any view of the city Kerrigan had seen inside the mountain. The entire thing was a far cry from the dusty, drab competitors’ box she’d just walked out of. The luxury of the rich at its finest.
She recognized most of the faces, most notably Master Lorian with his family at the front of the box, but that was to be expected. His wealth in Venatrix was only rivaled by his choke hold on the council. To her surprise, her eyes snagged on Darby, seated demurely next to her new mistress. She wore a navy Bryonican dress in the finest silk, embroidered with lace and seed pearls. She looked truly stunning. How Kerrigan had always seen her.
