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Of course, there could be more than one winner, but greed usually prevented even the strongest of alliances from achieving group victory. That was one of the things I was grateful for with Son. His lack of magic kept us from being forced to tear out each other’s throats.
My mind churned as I watched.
"Thank you, Canciller," she replied, forcing a smile in return. "I'm determined to bring honor to my deceased parents through my performance in the Blood Tournament."
The cameras rolled, she nodded politely, and I watched. Deep down, a growing sense of unease gnawed at my heart. I wanted this night to be over.
“This has been an extremely enlightening and enjoyable interview. Gracias, Renata.” he said, his smile returning. "Now, I wish you luck in the tournament. I have no doubt that you will continue to make our nation proud."
They both smiled.
“Muy bien,” the Artista behind the camera said, and then gestured that the camera was off.
As the cameras panned away and the interview drew to a close, I bolted upright, past Alvaro, down a flight of stairs, and into the hall where Javier and Manuel were waiting for Carmen.
The door opened, and laughter echoed in my ears. I scowled. There were too many feelings. I needed to keep quiet or I would explode. Canciller Duarte was a snake who hid his true nature behind symbols of patriotism. I spent a great deal of time taking care not to fall into his trap. That was only harder with Carmen.
When she saw me, her face lit up before gazing out the windows. She held a glass of water and fanned herself profusely. She handed the fan back to the Trabajador I had paid. I kept my expression even, pretending not to notice the way she pushed against her scars as if she could squash out the phantom pain.
“What did you think?” she asked, taking a sip of water.
I thought of how she had spoken about me, how she had rejected me. It was the right choice after getting that letter about Isaac. If it was leaked, and she had gone on camera saying she wanted to marry me, commentators would be ruthless. I took a deep breath. “Don’t you remember any of the tournament rules? You sounded like a scared mouse when he brought up strategy.”
I hated the way my voice sounded like my father, but I didn’t know how else to keep us all safe.
She frowned, and fire lit up her features. “I did the best I could.”
Clasping my hands behind me, I settled into the anger. “We’ve been over this. The three legs of the tournament, no killing, submission to better competitors, the wolves—Where the hell did all of that go?”
Javier and Manuel flanked us as she collected her coat. No more words passed between us, and I could feel displeasure emanating off her in waves.
For all the uncertainty and danger that now surrounded us, one thing was certain: she was my most dangerous weakness. And as we drove home in an awkward, silent car, my thoughts drifted to a small, dusty box hidden away in my study—a box I hadn't dared to open in years but would soon need to confront once again.
Chapter14
I Don't Want To Marry You
The winter air bit at my cheeks and my scars ached deeply as I stepped across the wooden platform through the white puffs of my breath. There were outdoor heaters all around for me and the other competitors, but even though the stage itself had been cleared, snow still dusted the surrounding landscape. This was where we would perform the traditional Flamenco dance for the Blood Tournament's opening ceremony tomorrow.
Flamenco was the chosen form of dance from the Quinta Isla, while the other isles had dances like the Roleca, Bandarina, or Lilísia.
By the looks of those around me, no one was excited to dance in this cold.
Most of the people were gathered around a table of food laid out underneath an elaborate canvas tent. I scanned my fellow competitors from the Quinta Isla, sizing them up one by one.
There was Isabela, athletic and blond, and she actually smiled at me. It was a wide, savage kind of smile that I liked. Up to this point, she had been almost indifferent toward me—especially since her aunt, Ana Olguín, thought I had robbed her of her chances of winning when Antonio picked me—but I would welcome her kindness right about now.
Off-balance after the interview last night and angry over how Antonio had made me feel small, I looked around and frowned.
Across from her stood Liliana. There was something unsettling about her gaze, an unnerving intensity that seemed to bore into my soul. She looked at me after Isabela waved, and a sly smile played on her lips.
As my Key Bearer, I should go speak with her. But next to Liliana stood Isaac.
My gut twisted.
His sandy blond hair fell effortlessly over his green eyes, giving him a roguish charm. But his handsome appearance hid a calculating nature, one that had used me, threatened me, even. My hands went sweaty in my gloves. He was still the one chosen to be my ally, and his team had endorsed the idea as well. He pursued me ardently, I felt nothing but guilt and wariness towards him, even though we were stuck together.
I felt deeply-seeded guilt for his mother, and wariness. Isaac knew my feelings, and yet he was doing nothing to dissuade the public of our engagement.
