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Benedict’s uncertainty was apparent under his polite expression. Lord Gaius barely hid his skepticism.
Lyta only smiled. “Let the Summit Games begin.”
THE GIFT OF VICTORY
Aunt Lyta turned roundand round on the dais, eying the crowd. “Who will be the Stand’s first challenger?”
That was Lio’s cue. He took a deep breath and waited.
“Test your mettle against my Stewards,” she dared the audience.
He gave the Tenebrans a moment to observe that none of the countless Hesperines in the gymnasium deemed themselves a match for even the youngest members of the Stand in hand-to-hand combat. When he thought Mak’s and Lyros’s fearsome reputations had sunk in sufficiently, and the silence had stretched on long enough, Lio rose to his feet and thrust his fist in the air.
The gymnasium erupted in applause and predictions of his doom. He looked across to where the embassy sat and sought Cassia’s gaze again. Benedict held her in conversation, but her aura swelled with encouragement. Her silent cheer for Lio meant more to him than any other acclaim. She would support him, whatever his cause, however certain his defeat.
He had every confidence in tonight’s conspiracy. He just hoped it made a sufficient impression on the Tenebrans, and that there was something left of him for Cassia to celebrate with when this was all over.
“Firstgift Komnenos!” Aunt Lyta beckoned to him. “Better known to our guests as Ambassador Deukalion—but to me as my dearest nephew. Join us and demonstrate your skill.”
Chrysanthos’s voice reached Lio’s ears from across the gymnasium. “Well, well. The son of Apollon shows his hand at last.”
“I warned you not to believe his diplomatic act,” Skleros said.
“Well, heisjust a light mage. You understand why I was predisposed to disregard him.”
“You war mages get spell effects in your eyes and don’t look further. You forget how many of your brilliant minds Apollon turned to jelly with nothing but a hammer.”
“How thoughtful of you to remind me, my friend. But you may keep your ‘I told you so’ to yourself. I haven’t made the mistake of underestimating Deukalion since I learned he is bloodborn. Prometheus was also ‘just’ a light mage.”
To show off for the mortals, Lio levitated from his seat to the floor of the gymnasium, landing in a fighter’s crouch. The Tenebrans’ stoic expressions became less convincing. They might be surrounded by heretics and girded with the armor of their virtue, by they suffered a universal vulnerability: they loved a spectacle. They would fall for the Stand’s display, yet.
“Here in Orthros,” Aunt Lyta declared, “every fight is a gift to someone we hold dear, just as in Tenebra, champions carry into battle the tokens of the ones they love. Let us see to whom our challenger dedicates his fight. Who hopes to receive the gift of Deukalion’s victory? Offer him your blood marks, that all may know he fights for you!”
Calls went up all over the gymnasium. Every tributary of Blood Komnena in attendance made an admirable effort to get Lio’s attention. But Kia let out an ear-splitting whistle, and Nodora topped everyone by sounding a hand gong. Lio’s Trial sisters jumped to their feet in the front row, unfurling his banner over the stands in front of them, and waved for him to pick them.
He swaggered over to Kia and Nodora and gave them his most elegant bow. He sensed Cassia’s amusement. He was glad she had gotten into the spirit of their mischief when they had all agreed upon the plan together over coffee in his library. As she had suggested, Lio took not one, but both of his Trial sisters’ hands.
Kia and Nodora preened. The entire Hesperine audience, who could not help being in on the joke, made good-natured noise. Someone in the crowd started a chant: “Son of Apollon! Son of Apollon!”
Lio heard Lord Adrogan say, “Popular with the ladies, that one.”
“With a face like that, I don’t doubt it,” Lord Severin muttered.
Predictable Tenebrans. The ruse was working.
“It’s not his face that’s the subject of the rumors about him,” Lord Adrogan said. “Have you heard what these Hesperines say about the bloodborn? His height isn’t his greatest physical advantage.”
“Adrogan, I don’t spend time wondering what’s in a Hesperine’s loincloth, and neither should you.”
“It doesn’t seem fair that Hesperines should be naturally superior with the ladies. Why should a man have to submit himself to a profane goddess to get his sword reforged? Seems like Anthros’s swords ought to be better from the start.”
Lio could almost hear the blood rushing to Benedict’s cheeks, and he could easily sense the silent laughter in Cassia’s aura. She was also gloating to no small degree. How gratifying.
Nodora bit her hand, then clasped Lio’s, leaving a mark of her blood on his palm. He gave her knuckles a courtly kiss. Then he and Kia repeated the gesture.
With both his palms marked in blood, Lio approached the dais, putting on a grim expression to keep from grinning at his Trial brothers. Lyros’s face and aura were composed in concentration, but Mak just laughed. When he cracked his knuckles, Lio almost burst out laughing with him.
Aunt Lyta held out her hands toward Mak and Lyros on either side of her. “Which of Orthros’s Stewards will you challenge?”
