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It was a split-second pause, but I knew from experience that even a fraction of a second could be an eternity when it came to fighting creatures with superior speed and strength. Lazarus took advantage at once, squaring up with Maximillian and smashing his fist into the side of his opponent’s head. Cries of shock echoed from the crowd, and I felt more than heard a scream tear from my throat as Maximillian staggered sideways, a dazed look in his eyes.
Lazarus pressed his advantage, raining blow after blow down on Maximillian. I leaned over the railing, my heart in my throat as I watched Maximillian rally, his arms coming up in a tight defense, each muscle coiled to absorb the impact. Blood streamed from the side of his head where Lazarus had struck him, but his expression was focused and determined as he bobbed and weaved, his feet shifting with practiced agility as he once again danced around Lazarus’s offense. Hope rose in my chest as Lazarus’s movements grew frustrated, and the Sanguis Noctis vampire unwittingly exposed his kidneys—an excellent weak point. It took vampires longer to heal their internal organs than it did broken bones, and the more hits Maximillian could land in those areas, the more he could slow Lazarus down.
But once again, just as Maximillian was about to land the blow, he froze. And this time, as Lazarus squared off with him, I felt the unmistakable prickle of magic against my skin.
I turned in my seat, searching for the source, only to see Callix Starclaw focusing intently on Maximillian, his skin glowingfaintly. I stared in horror at the trance-like expression on his face. Was he using his powers to interfere with the match?
Before I could think better of it, I reached out with my own magic and seized the shadows around Lazarus’s feet just as he reared back for another kick. I was nearly at the height of my full power again, so I had no trouble connecting with the inky darkness despite the distance, and I expertly tangled the vampire’s own shadow around his ankle, forcing his kick to fly wide. Breaking free from the psychic hold, Maximillian swept Lazarus’s feet out from under him, then pounced on the other vampire and rained punishing blows onto his face.
Lazarus raised his arms in a desperate attempt to shield himself, but Maximillian smashed through his defense with a vengeance. His fist crashed into Lazarus’s jaw with devastating force, and the crowd gasped as the other vampire’s head whipped to the side in an unnatural angle, his body going limp.
Soren Ironheart was there in an instant, hauling Maximillian away as the crowd went wild. “Lord Starclaw wins the bout with a decisive knockout!” Ruslan roared, but I could hardly hear him. Everyone surged to their feet, but I couldn’t bring myself to join in the cheering as I looked at Callix Starclaw again. The blank expression was still on his face, no hint of joy or pride or any other emotion.
Suddenly, he turned to look at me, and I sucked in a sharp breath as our gazes collided. His frosted irises seemed to see right through me, and fear squeezed my heart as I wondered if he’d witnessed my interference—if he’d seen the shadow magic, and had somehow traced it back to me.
“Kitana!” Lucius shook my shoulders, drawing my attention from the high lord. A wide grin split his dark face, his eyes alightwith exhilaration I’d never seen in him before. “Didn’t you see? He won! Maximillian won!”
“I did see,” I told him... but I didn’t. I didn’t see how Maximillian’s father could stare so nonchalantly as his son stood bloody and triumphant in the arena. Especially after he'd just tried to sabotage him.
Or maybe even kill him.
34
Kitana
After Tournament Day came to a close, the four delegations gathered in the Great Hall to celebrate with a grand feast.
I could feel the weight of Maximillian’s gaze on me as we sat at a long dining table with the other heirs and highlords, the emperor at the head with Casimir, while Lysander occupied the foot. Lazarus was nowhere to be found. Once he’d gotten his head on straight—literally—he’d erupted into a howling fit of rage, accusing Maximillian of using his powers to cheat. It had taken twenty guards to drag him away, and I doubted the Sanguis Noctis heir had recovered from the humiliation. Which was probably why he hadn’t shown his face tonight.
I stared into my cup of wine, the weight of unspoken words heavy on my tongue. I hadn’t had a chance to speak to Maximillian after his victory—the entire Psychoros delegation had flooded the arena so they could pick him up and carry him away on their shoulders, making it impossible to get close. And once we’d gotten back, Lucius had whisked him away to cleanhim up for the feast. But to be honest, I wasn’t sure what to say. Was Maximillian aware that someone had used magic to sabotage him? Did he know I had used my magic to intervene? And how was I supposed to tell him I suspected his father, when the news would devastate him, especially on the heels of such a victory?
I couldn’t ask him any of this now, not while the emperor was sitting so close. But the questions were burning me up from the inside, making it impossible for me to get into the otherwise festive atmosphere that filled the hall.
“That was an impressive match, Lord Starclaw,” Ignatius Stellaris spoke from across the table. His black hair was tied back at his nape, leaving his long face unframed so he could eat freely. “You and Lazarus had the entire arena on tenterhooks with your performance.”
“It was riveting,” Casimir agreed as he cut into his fillet. “You acquitted yourself far better than I expected.”
“I suppose I’ll take that as a compliment,” Maximillian said dryly. “We Psychoros vampires are more than just brains, you know.”
“You must be,” the emperor said, his citrine eyes glittering. Unlike the others, he had forgone food entirely, instead taking sips from a thrall female seated to the right and slightly behind him. The woman was pale and glassy-eyed, and a flash of anger filled me as I wondered how long the emperor would continue to feed from her in one sitting instead of allowing her to rest. “From my vantage point, it appeared you were losing right until the end, when you made that miraculous comeback. So miraculous, I almost wonder if you had help.”
Dread pooled in my stomach at the sharp edge in the emperor’s tone. But no one at the table even bothered to glance my way—all eyes were on Maximillian. Thankfully, the Psychoros vampire didn’t allow the scrutiny to ruffle him. He merely lifted his goblet of wine, then said, “If I did have help, it could have only come from our dark father, who blessed me with the strength and fortitude to see this match to the end.”
He raised his goblet to the statue of Tenebros that stood in the center of the Great Hall’s entrance, and everyone else at the table followed suit, then drank. The emperor’s eyes narrowed as he licked blood from his lower lip, but there was nothing he could say, not while Alaric Grimcrest sat right next to him, nodding his wizened head in approval.
“Have you had any fresh blood since your fight, Maximillian?” Callix asked. “To replenish your strength?”
Maximillian paused, his fork halfway to his mouth. “My strength is perfectly adequate, Father.”
He spoke lightly, but I could almost see the line of tension his words drew between the two vampires, taut as a bowstring. I held my breath, waiting for Callix to retaliate, but the emperor interrupted.
“Your father is right,” Vladimir said. “You should feed. Besides, the Summit is drawing to a close, and it is customary for a potential sire to feed from his candidate one final time. A symbolic gesture to close this chapter of your lives and move onto the next.”
The emperor’s gaze fixed on me, and I stilled. Everyone at the table settled their attention on me, their expressions ranging from mild interest to outright bloodlust. The only exception wasCasimir—he fixed his expression on something across the room, his feature schooled into indifference.
And for some reason, that really pissed me off.
It was Casimir’s fault we were in this situation. He was the one who opened his big fat mouth and suggested Maximillian and Lazarus settle things in a public duel. If he’d minded his own business, if he’d stayed out of their conflict, and if he hadn’t made his own obsession with me so obvious, perhaps the emperor wouldn’t be having this conversation with Maximillian right now. The urge to leap across the table and strangle him was so strong, I had to bury my hands in my skirts to keep from acting on it.
