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She opened her mouth to argue, but Kerrigan gasped, cutting her off.
Darrid of Herasi, the competitor that Fordham had humiliated in the last task, was sneaking up on Fordham from behind as he dug through one of the boxes on the platform. Fordham stood, a look of triumph on his face as he slid the third piece of his medallion into place. Then Darrid was there. And just like in her vision, everything fell apart.
A shove, a scream, hands reaching out.
And then Fordham was free-falling toward the arena water below.
31
The Fall
Fordham fell.
His body moved past one, two, three platforms. His momentum carrying him faster and faster and faster toward that impending water. The water that would push him out of the tournament forever.
Kerrigan could hear cheers and boos from the stands. Some who were mad that Darrid had pushed Fordham. Others who were delighted to see the prince of the House of Shadows fall. But she was focused on him soaring through the air. He had no magic. He couldn’t buffer his fall. He couldn’t slow himself. He could do nothing but drop.
She put her hands over her eyes, peering out through a slit in her fingers. Her stomach was in knots. There wasn’t a single thing that she could do.
“Fordham!” she cried despite herself.
And then, with the dexterity only she had seen him move with, he reached out at the last second and grasped on to the final platform with one hand. There was a sickening snap as something broke or dislocated in his arm. An inhuman snarl ripped from him, reverberating throughout the arena.
He’d saved himself. He’d done it.
Then she saw the real horror. He wasn’t holding the medallion. He’d dropped it. It fell slower than him with less mass to carry it down. It drifted toward the water, as if calling itself home.
Fordham’s eyes were wide with pain, but still, he managed to reach out and pluck the medallion out of thin air. It dangled on a finger, the length of the ribbon just barely caught. He didn’t even dare breathe as he slowly slid it down his finger and clenched the thing in his fist. With a sigh of relief, he slid the medallion over his head and began the arduous process of climbing back up to the lowest platform.
By this time, it was clear that all competitors had found their medallion pieces and were now climbing the slippery platform to try to be one of the final eight competitors. Fordham was on the bottom rung. To make it through to the final task, he still had to beat two other competitors to the top of the platform.
With another disgusting pop, Fordham wrenched his shoulder back into place. The crowd seemed to make a collective gag at the brutality. But Kerrigan knew Fordham’s military training, and she saw in his face basic battlefield healing.
She didn’t know when everything had changed. Between the first task, when she’d been hoping he’d win because of the vision, and now, when she was a ball of anxiety over the fact that he might lose. And he couldn’t lose. Not because of her visions, but because of him.
“Fordham, come on!” she screamed over the roar of the crowd. “Get moving!”
As if he’d heard her, he began to climb up the soaked platforms.
A bell rang out.
“Darrid,” Valia whispered.
“Bastard,” Kerrigan grumbled. “Cheating bastard.”
“It’s not technically against the rules.”
Kerrigan huffed and went back to watching Fordham. He was flagging. His breathing was unsteady. His hand kept going to his ribs, as if all this exertion was only exacerbating the issue. His shoulder couldn’t be feeling great either. Not to mention, neither of them had slept a wink last night unless unconscious was considered sleep. She couldn’t believe he’d made it this far.
Another bell.
“Noda.”
Kerrigan bounced up and down on the balls of her feet. That just left four competitors, and only two more could go through. She was so fixated on Fordham’s relentless climb up a swaying rope ladder that she didn’t notice anything was wrong until the crowd gasped.
She turned and saw a girl—Kamari—sail through the air and land with a splash into the water. Kerrigan winced. That was a long fall. It had to have hurt, and now, she was out.
A bell rang.
“Posana. Only one more spot.”
Kerrigan worried on her lip as Fordham and Valero shot to the top of the structure. Two platforms down from the top, they met. Each sized the other up. Fordham looked like a brutalized mess. Valero looked more the image of a prince in that moment. More water rained down on them as they each lunged for a way up.
Valero got ahold of a ladder just as water rained down upon them. He slipped, falling to the last rung as the rope shredded his hands. He cried out but managed to hang on. Fordham had gone for a single rope. Not many of the competitors had climbed up the ropes, but Fordham scaled it like he’d been rope climbing his entire life.
