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“Yep. That’s basically it,” I said.
His gaze turned gentle. “Do not fret, Chels. This is meant to be enjoyable.”
I huffed. “I didn’t say we should just give up.”
A grin crossed Dagda’s face.
The horn blared, and we raced forward. Dagda was off the line in a flash. God, he was fast. I struggled to keep up as we made it to the first tent at the edge of the trees and stumbled after him through the canvas, gasping for breath.
A plain wooden table sat in the middle of the space surrounded by many different liquids and plants and powders in containers. Dagda had his own parchment out, carefully reading through it and gathering ingredients. Either he knew potions or he’d had someone from the Queen’s Sorcerers put together his own list.
“So what do we get if we win?”
“Honor and glory,” Dagda said without looking up.
“So, bragging rights, then.”
He looked at me, his lips hitching into a half-smile. “Yes.”
I stepped next to him and glanced down at his parchment, reading over the ingredients. And frowned. Something about his formula differed from mine. I reached into the pocket on my belt and pulled out the list that Roisin had given me.
Dagda’s fingers moved down the list as he entered each ingredient and their measurement into the bowl.
“Wait,” I said, throwing a hand out to stop him from dumping the next element into the mix. “Yours says that we need to add five arlace leaves but mine says only two.”
Dagda raised an eyebrow as he took in the parchment in my hands, probably wondering where I got it from. “We must decide which. If we get it wrong, we shall have to start all over, and there will be no catching up with the others.”
I bit my lip. Dagda waited for me to make the call. His list most likely came from the Queen’s Sorcerers, who had years of formal training. Mine came from Roisin—a self-taught novice. But one who had no doubt watched Morrigan on many occasions, and who was humble enough to double and triple check herself.
Not to mention the Queen’s Sorcerers weren’t very high on my trust list as of late.
“Add two,” I said.
Dagda didn’t hesitate. He grabbed two arlace leaves and placed them in the bowl.
He stirred the violet potion, swirling different vibrant hues. I felt a soft power drift up from the elixir, as if it called to me.
“It should be ready when it turns green and then we shall see if we did it correctly,” Dagda said.
The liquid darkened to a lush forest green. He set aside the ladle and picked up the bowl and held it out to me. “Will you do the honors?”
I took it from him and we exited the tent. I glanced at the other tents down the line. Only one other pair was making their way to their own wall. They threw their potion onto the wall and it crumpled.
I turned and poured our elixir onto the stone in front of us.
Nothing happened.
My shoulders slumped. Maybe I should have gone with the Queen’s Sorcerers instead of Roisin.
“Look,” Dagda said. A crack split deep in the wall. It grew as more pebbles of stone fell away and the entire barrier caved inward.
A laugh bubbled up. We’d done it. Dagda bowed, motioning for me to go first. “After you, your majesty.”
We raced over the crumpled heap of our wall and found a rack filled with weapons. Swords and scimitars and balls on chains, knives—weapons that I didn’t even know their names. The blood drained from my face.
Dagda grabbed the sword and several knives. “The creatures that will come upon us are pure magic. They are not real and cannot harm you. However, the more strikes they land against you, the longer it shall take us to get through. Here.” He held a spear out to me. I stared at it with wide eyes. He had to be kidding.
He crouched down. “Feet apart, knees bent. Thrust upwards.” He made a quick savage jab with the spear before straightening. “You try.”
