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“What did you get?” Miriam asked. “Your ability? You had something. What was it?”
“Fae sight,” Juliana admitted, blinking. Her eyesight felt blurry, even though she knew it to be keen for a human’s.
Miriam sighed. “I’ve experienced it a few times in my life. Beautiful, isn’t it?”
“Almost too much,” she admitted. “Imagine seeing the world like that all the time.”
“I don’t think they appreciate it,” Miriam continued. “Or use it to their best advantage. Would you, if you had it all the time?”
“Probably not. At least, not after a while.” She stuffed a small bread roll in her mouth, moaning as the fruit erupted on her tongue. “I am going to miss this food…”
Miriam raised an eyebrow. “You’re not staying?”
“I don’t know. Father wasn’t exactly clear.”
“You know, he never quite told me why he left in the first place.”
“He never told me, either.”
Miriam opened her mouth, but before she could speak, the trumpet sounded.
“Is that the end?” one of the attendants asked. “That was quick.”
A servant bustled into the tent, breathless and wide-eyed. “That half-ogre chap has finally fallen,” he rushed. “Which means…”
Juliana did a quick elimination in her mind, and found her stomach dropping.
“Well, well,” said Miriam, rising to her feet to clap Juliana on the back, “father against daughter. This really should be interesting.”
Juliana had fought against her father a hundred, a thousand times before. But never like this. And never in all her imaginings since her father announced their participation in the tournament, had she imagined this. She never dreamt she’d make it so far.
“Scared, daughter?” Markham said as they approached the silver tray of vials.
“You taught me better than that.”
The truth was, shewasa little nervous. She could be fairly sure of surviving this—Markham’s lessons sometimes hurt, but he would never publicly shame her, and he took no joy in causing her pain—but that didn’t mean she didn’t have other fears. She didn’t want to let him down. She didn’t want to let thecrowddown, either.
But Markham knew her every weakness, and she wasn’t sure she knew all of his. He was so much better than she was. How could he not be?
She tried to recall if he had an injury she could exploit, but he would doubtless have had everything seen to by the healers before now. He was stronger, fitter, larger than she was. She had the barest of advantages of speed.
He knew her every move, her every pattern, like the stitching on a cloth he’d sewn over years. She was carved in his image.
She couldn’t beat him.
She wanted to. Shereallywanted to.
She waved away the offer of a vial. Somehow, this victory would mean nothing if she couldn’t do it as herself—and she certainly couldn’t risk a handicap instead.
Markham didn’t look at her when he reached out and took a vial of his own.
Juliana’s eyes widened, certain she must be seeing things. Henevertook the vials, and to take one against her, when he knew she wouldn’t present him with a challenge, when she hadn’t taken one of her own—
She spared no thought for the idea that he’d taken ithopingto be weakened, that he might provide her with an advantage; Markham wasn’t like that. He fought to win.
She kept her eyes on him as they moved into the starting position, waiting for signs of the potion’s effects. Markham held her gaze now, smiling quietly.
He was still smiling when the trumpet sounded and he launched forward with such speed that Juliana barely had time to draw her sword.
