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“As I was saying,” Keres said, dismissing him once more, “both competitors will be declared winners!”
The crowd cheered vibrantly at this outcome. Not because they were happy to see Fordham and Kerrigan both win. She was certain they would rather have seen bloodshed. But who was going to argue with a Doma? Even Vulsan had backed down.
Keres raised her hands to the sky, and her glow magnified, the wind kicked up in the arena, and the sand swirled at their feet. People covered their heads. And then Keres was in the air.
A collective gasp left the audience.
A Doma was flying.
Kerrigan glanced at Fordham. His hand returned to his neck. The shadow magic was gone. Whatever chance they’d had to escape, Keres had ruined their moment. There was nothing to do but wait to find out what exactly she was going to do. It took a few seconds for Kerrigan to recognize that Keres wasn’t exactly flying. She was using the winds to direct her downward. It would be much more difficult to carry herself upward in the same manner. Kerrigan had enough mastery of air—or she once had—to see the trick as something incredible. No one could see the difference who hadn’t trained in it extensively.
Then, the wind died down, and her mother stood before her.
“Hello,” Keres said with the same pleasant smile she’d given to the crowd. Except this time, Kerrigan was close enough to see the differences she had missed before.
Yes, they were both redheads with freckles and fair skin. But where Kerrigan’s eyes were bright green, her mother’s were an ever-shifting hazel. Kerrigan’s lips were thinner, her stature considerably shorter and her curls undeniably wilder. And yet there was no denying their similarities. She was her mother’s daughter. In the way she had never been her father’s.
“Hello,” Kerrigan said, her voice suddenly small.
“Congratulations on your win.”
Kerrigan swallowed. Fordham took the step up to her side.
“You stopped the match,” Kerrigan said.
“I did. Are you ready for your gift?”
Kerrigan wanted to say so much more. She wanted to ask her mother a million questions. Least of all for the gift she was going to bestow upon her. But she had no words for this wonderful, amazing woman who stood before her. Only awe that it was happening at all.
“Yes,” Kerrigan said.
“Hold your hand out.”
“Aren’t you going to ask what I want?”
Keres blinked once in a moment of confusion. “What you want?”
“What kind of gift I want from the gods?”
“Oh.” Keres tilted her head. “Has no one explained to you what a Gift is?”
Kerrigan glanced at Fordham, and he shook his head as well. He hadn’t heard the term as anything but what they had both been expecting.
Was a gift something else? Had she done all of this for nothing?
“No,” she whispered. “I guess no one has.”
“A Gift is a deliverance of magic from a Doma to someone who is not a Doma.” Her mother raised her eyebrows, as if to impart the most important part of that statement.
“So … not between Doma?”
“No. Doma are born with as much magic as they will ever be given.” Keres smiled for the crowd. “But we all know that you’re not an actual Doma. That was a very clever ruse.”
“Right,” Kerrigan said. “Right.”
The crowd was chanting, “Gift!” like they had screamed her name earlier in the day.
Kerrigan was just realizing that there was no way for her mother to gift her magic. She had as much magic as she would ever have, and it had been taken from her or buried. Whatever Cleora’s theory was, the magic wasn’t available at present.
“The Gift creates a bond between the Doma and their Daijan.” The foreign word rolled off of her tongue with a hint of disgust.
Another bond. Another link. If she had learned anything from Cleora in all of their training sessions, it was that no one in Domara used bonds the way they did in Alandria, which used two-way links that spoke of fidelity and trust. These bonds were one way. A means of control. Just like the one they used on the dragons.
But what else could she do?
It wasn’t going to work on her. That one look was enough to confirm that Kerrigan could never become Daijan. It also meant that she couldn’t gain any new magic that would help her free her people.
All of this had been for nothing.
Except …
Kerrigan turned to face Fordham. He nodded once, as if he had come to the same conclusion. She couldn’t get new magic to help her people. But he could. The male who had wanted no tether, save for his dragon bond to Netta. The male who had lived through the worst of his father’s court and come out still with a fragile heart. Could she ask him to take this sacrifice?
“I would have died for you,” he said softly. “Allow me this.”
