Dark Heart of Magic (17 page)

And the ironic thing was that Victor didn't even know I existed. Oh sure, he knew that Lila Merriweather was a new guard for the Sinclairs and was competing in the Tournament of Blades, but he didn't know that I was
really
Lila Sterling, the daughter of the woman he'd tortured and killed.

And he especially didn't know how much I hated him.

Then again, it wasn't like I'd shouted my true identity from the rooftops. Just the opposite. I'd worked hard to keep who I really was on the down-low. Even among the Sinclairs, only a few folks knew the truth about who I was, what Victor had done to my mom, and why.

That had never bothered me before tonight, but going over to the Draconi mansion, seeing Victor so smug in his own home, so secure and confident in his own power, and reading through that file he had on me had flipped a switch inside me. Suddenly, I wanted him to know
exactly
who I was—and that I wasn't going to let him hurt another person I cared about. Not a single one.

I whaled on the heavy bag until my knuckles bruised, my arms ached, and my legs trembled, but I kept right on hitting it. I drew back my fists for another strike when a voice sounded behind me.

“You keep that up and you won't have anything left for the tournament tomorrow.”

I looked over my shoulder at Devon, who'd stepped through the door and out onto the terrace. “I don't care about the stupid tournament.”

He let the door swing shut behind him. “You should. You could win it. Wouldn't that make you happy?”

I smashed my fist into the bag again.
Whack.
“Not as happy as hitting Victor would make me.”

Devon didn't say anything, but sympathy softened his face. His dad had been murdered because of Grant Sanderson's schemes, and he'd felt the exact same rage and frustration that I was feeling right now. He stepped over and held out his hand. I looked at his outstretched fingers instead of into his eyes. I didn't want to see how sorry he felt for me.

But Devon was as stubborn as I was, and he wasn't going to take no for an answer. He stepped even closer, and I finally sighed, all the anger draining out of my body, and put my hand in his. Devon gave my fingers a soft, understanding squeeze, then led me over to the lawn chairs next to the railing.

We sat down, and I started to pull my hand out of his, but Devon wouldn't let go. Instead, he opened the cooler, reached down, and drew out a small bag of ice, which he gently placed on my bruised knuckles. I hissed at the cold sensation.

“You hit the heavy bag like you're trying to punch right through it and you're wincing at a little ice? Crybaby,” Devon teased.

I gave him a dark look, but that only made him grin wider.

He sat there, cradling my hand and keeping the ice in place before doing the same thing to my other hand. Even after the cold had eased the ache in my knuckles, Devon still held on, his touch firm but gentle.

“You want to talk about it?” he asked.

“No.”

But he went on as though I hadn't spoken. “I know it must have been hard, being that close to Victor tonight and not being able to take a shot at him—especially after what he did to your mom.”

I shrugged. “No harder than it's been all the other times I've seen him over the past four years.”

Devon fell silent. He couldn't argue with that.

For several minutes, we both were quiet, staring out into the night. A faint breeze gusted down from the top of the mountain, clearing away some of the mist and letting us see the summer fireflies as they fluttered to and fro, their lights burning bright as they did their mating dance.

“You know,” Devon said. “There might be a less dangerous way to get your revenge on Victor . . . and Blake too.”

“How?”

He looked at me. “By winning the Tournament of Blades. Nothing makes Victor prouder than having a Draconi win, whether it's Deah or Blake or one of the guards. If you won, you would spoil the whole tournament for him. You would finally get to take away something he cares about.”

“For a change,” I muttered.

“Yeah. For a change.”

Devon removed the ice from my knuckles and handed me a cold bottle of water before grabbing one for himself. I mulled over his words. It would be satisfying to take something away from Victor, even if it was just winning the tournament. At the very least, it would prove that the Draconis didn't always get exactly what they wanted whenever they wanted it—at least for one day and in this one small way.

“All right,” I said. “You've convinced me. I'll do my best in the tournament. Cross my heart and everything.”

I drew an X over my heart, and Devon grinned again, the hot spark shimmering in his green eyes warming me from the inside out the way it always did. I dropped my gaze from his and took a long swig of my water, trying to cool off in more ways than one.

“So you'll do your best in the tournament, and Felix will do his best to juggle two girls at once,” Devon snarked.

I laughed and almost spit out a mouthful of water. I gave Devon a mock glare. “You did that on purpose.”

His grin widened. “Would I do something like that?”

“Absolutely.”

He laughed. “Okay, okay. So I did do it on purpose. Just to cheer you up. But that doesn't mean it's not true about Felix, Deah, and Katia.”

I snorted. “Oh, I doubt that Deah will let Felix juggle her. You should have seen how upset she was tonight when he came to the Draconi compound. Like it or not, she really does care about him.”

“I know,” Devon said. “I've seen the way she looks at him when she thinks no one's watching. But Katia likes him too. She was crazy about him last year.”

“And what about you? Do you have a summer love who's come back to town for the tournament?” I teased, although my stomach felt strangely heavy as I said the words.

“Nope.” He paused. “There was a girl once, though.”

My heart squeezed tight in my chest, but I forced myself to ask the inevitable question. “And what was she like?”

He shifted in his lawn chair and stared out over the railing, his eyes locked on some spot far, far away in the Midway. “Well, we didn't actually get a chance to talk. All I really remember is that she had the most amazing blue eyes I'd ever seen.” He looked at me. “And she still does.”

Despite all the water I'd drunk, my throat felt as dry as a dirt road in the summertime. He was talking about the day we'd first met, when my mom had saved him from being kidnapped by the Draconis.

Every time I thought that I'd put some distance between us or done something that would piss him off for good, Devon came right back at me with something like that—something so sweet and so thoughtful and so damn
sincere
that it melted my defenses in a heartbeat. He didn't need his compulsion Talent to make me like him. He didn't need any magic at all.

He did it just by being himself.

But I was me, and I didn't do feelings. I didn't do attachments, and I especially didn't do relationships. Not since my mom had been murdered. I was a thief. I knew better than anyone else that it was much, much safer to keep my heart locked up tight, instead of putting it out there on display for everyone to see, where it could so easily be stolen—or broken again.

Devon kept staring at me, but I didn't let my eyes meet his. I didn't want my soulsight to kick in and show me everything he was feeling. Or how his emotions mirrored my own.

Instead, I chugged down the rest of my water and got to my feet. “Well, I should get some sleep. Tomorrow will be a busy day with the tournament. I need to rest up if I want to have any chance of winning.”

“Yeah,” Devon said, not bothering to hide the disappointment in his voice. “Busy.”

He got to his feet as well. I gave him a small, nervous smile, still not looking into his eyes, then hurried around him, went over to the drainpipe, and climbed back down to the safe, lonely emptiness of my room.

“T
his is ridiculous,” I grumbled. “Completely, utterly
ridiculous
.”

White feathers fell down in my face. I huffed out a breath, trying to blow them out of my eyes, but the feathers dropped right back down to where they'd been before. Annoyed, I reached up, yanked several of them out of the brim of my black cavalier hat, and stuck them in a nearby trash can. The motions made my black cloak billow out around my shoulders before dropping neatly back into place, while my black, knee-high boots
creaked
with every step I took. Tight black pants and a sleeveless white silk shirt completed my ridiculous ensemble.

“Tell me again why we have to dress up like extras from a
Three Musketeers
movie while we're fighting?”

“Because the tourists expect us to dress like this. It's all part of the show for them.” Poppy grinned and tipped her purple hat at me. “Just be glad that your Family colors are black and white. I look like I'm wearing a bunch of grapes on my head.”

I grinned. “Well, as long as the rubes are entertained.”

She grinned again and rolled her eyes.

It was day two of the Tournament of Blades, and Poppy, Devon, and I were standing by the chain-link fence that ringed the stadium floor, waiting for the one-on-one matches to start. The other competitors milled around the area, all of them dressed like us in sleeveless white shirts and black pants, with cloaks and hats bearing their Family colors.

I looked up at the Sinclair box, where Claudia, Reginald, and Mo were sitting, with Oscar zipping around and around them just like he had yesterday. The pixie had started stuffing himself with junk food the second we'd gotten to the fairgrounds, and he was now on his third cinnamon-sugar pretzel. With his sugar rush, I half expected him to forget there was a sheet of glass in the front of the box and fly straight into it.

I scanned the rest of the crowd, my gaze finally locking onto the Draconi box. Victor was sitting up there, along with Seleste, who was gesturing with her hands and seemed to be talking a mile a minute. She was wearing a pretty white sundress with black polka dots, and her blond hair was sleeked back into a high bun, making her look far more normal and sane than she had last night.

Seleste noticed me staring and actually got to her feet, stepped up to the front of the glass, and waved at me, her whole face lighting up with happiness.

I wondered if she remembered me, Lila, from last night, or if she still thought that I was my dead mom. Hard to tell. Either way, I didn't wave back at her.

The officials, still dressed in their neutral white, stepped onto the stadium floor. The obstacle course was gone, but the cold spring and rock formations remained, since they were a natural part of the landscape. They would make the duels more exciting, providing obstacles for the fighters to maneuver around, duck behind for cover, or use as springboards to lash out at each other. A separate, foot-high ring of stones enclosed the larger rocks and the cold spring.

This was where the one-on-one matches would take place. Devon had told me that a smaller version of the rope ladder was usually included in the ring as well. Not this time. Maybe the officials had realized that yesterday hadn't been an accident and didn't want a repeat performance.

A low drumbeat rang out, and the crowd hushed, anticipating the start of today's action.

“And now, last year's returning champion, Deah Draconi!” a voice rang out through the sound system.

After yesterday's fiasco with the obstacle course, Deah had been seeded first as the reigning winner and had the privilege of having the first match of the day. She strode out into the center of the stadium, her red cloak rippling behind her like a wave of blood. Deah stopped outside the stone competition ring and bowed low to one side of the stadium, then the other. Cheers erupted, and a smile split her face. In that moment, she seemed genuinely happy.

Then she glanced up at the Draconi box. Seleste was on her feet again, cheering and clapping, but Victor stayed seated, his hands folded in his lap. Deah's smile slipped off her face, and her eyes dimmed, although she covered it up by whipping off her red hat and cloak and passing them over to one of the officials.

Deah's competition, a Volkov guard, was announced. He also removed his hat and cloak, and the two of them faced each other in the center of the stone ring. Devon had explained the tournament rules to me on the ride down here this morning. For today's rounds, everyone could use their weapons of choice, and the person to draw first blood won. Debilitating or killing blows were not allowed and would get you tossed out of the tournament immediately. Healers from each Family, including Felix and Angelo, were standing by the white tent with their magic and bottles of stitch-sting, ready to patch up the folks who got bloodied first.

The official in the ring with Deah and the Volkov guard raised his hand, then dropped it and scurried out of the way, and the match began.

The Volkov guard went on the attack, raising his sword high, charging at Deah, and trying to overpower her with his opening blow. She gave him a cool look, then spun out of the way. The guard stumbled past her, but she was already whipping around and going on the offensive.

I'd never seen Deah fight before, but I could see why she was the tournament champion. She was quick and decisive, with no wasted movement or effort. The Volkov guard had a strength Talent, and she knew better than to engage him head on. Instead, she kept moving around him, always making him skirt the rock formations or hop over them to come after her, then sliding away. A minute into the fight, and the guard was already sweating and sucking wind, while Deah looked as calm and composed as ever.

“She's good,” I said. “Much better than I'd thought she would be.”

“Why do you say it like that?” Poppy asked. “Did you think she won by cheating or something?”

I shrugged. “She's a Draconi. The thought had occurred to me.”

Devon shook his head. “There's no way for anyone to cheat. Not in the individual matches. The officials make sure of it. We can use our magic and weapons, but they make sure that's
all
we're using.”

Just like he said, the five officials were stationed around the ring, watching the competitors' every move.

Deah hopped up onto a long, jagged, three-foot-high rock. The Volkov guard slammed his sword down onto the rock, hard enough to make chips fly out of it, but Deah had already skipped out of the way and jumped off the other end. I couldn't help but be impressed. With moves like that, she would make a good thief.

The guard let out a loud, frustrated bellow, knowing that she was just toying with him. So he screamed, raised his sword overhead, and charged at her, which was exactly what she wanted.

At the last second, Deah slid to the left and sliced her sword across his bare upper arm, opening up a long cut. The guard yelped, knowing he'd lost. And, as if that wasn't bad enough, he hadn't realized that Deah had positioned herself directly in front of the spring, and he stumbled past her and plunged headfirst into the cold water. He came up sputtering.

“First blood!” an official called out, stepping into the stone ring and raising Deah's sword hand, declaring her the winner.

Deah grinned, and cheers rang out. Up in the Draconi box, Victor clapped politely, but Seleste surged to her feet, put her fingers to her lips, and let out a loud, ear-splitting whistle that sounded through the whole stadium. Victor frowned as though displeased by his wife's antics, but Deah waved at her mom, happy at the show of affection.

My heart squeezed with jealousy. It was just like something my mom would have done, if she'd still been alive.

Poppy, Devon, and I were standing by the fence gate, and Deah had to walk past us to get out of the stadium.

“Nice fight,” I said.

Poppy and Devon called out their congratulations as well.

“Thanks.” Deah gave me a guarded look, nodded at Poppy and Devon, and then headed for the Draconi tent.

Poppy, Devon, and I hung out and watched the other matches, cheering for the Sinclairs and Itos and clapping for everyone who won, even the Draconis.

About halfway through the first round, it was Devon's turn to fight, and he strode out to the center of the ring to some of the loudest cheers of the entire day. Everyone knew, liked, and respected Devon, and I even spotted some of the Draconis cheering for him. Not Blake, of course, who openly jeered and
boo-boo-booed
like the jackass he was, but Deah politely clapped the way she had for all the competitors.

Devon was facing a woman from the Ito Family who was armed with two short swords. Devon loosened up his shoulders, then raised his own sword and faced her. The official stepped out of the way, and the fight was on.

The woman had a speed Talent, and she came at Devon almost too fast to follow, swinging her swords every which way. But he recognized the pattern and defended against it. Back and forth they fought, with the Ito guard moving faster and faster, trying to rattle Devon, but he kept his cool and matched her move for move. Not only that, but he started pushing the fight toward the left side of the ring where some of the smaller rock formations were.

Finally, when she was going as fast as possible, Devon kicked a baseball-size stone at her. The Ito guard lurched out of the way, but the unexpected motion threw her off balance long enough for Devon to step up, slice his sword across her arm, and win the match.

Poppy clapped, but I hooted and hollered, along with the rest of the Sinclairs and a good portion of the crowd. Poppy went over to speak to the Ito guard, while Devon jogged back over to me.

“You did great!” I said.

Devon grinned, his eyes bright and happy. He rushed forward, picked me up, and swung me around before setting me back down. Our gazes locked, and a hot spark sizzled in my chest, followed by a happy, dizzying rush of feeling that made my toes curl inside my boots. I suddenly felt too warm, and it wasn't from the sun blazing down overhead.

I cleared my throat, stepped out of his arms, and clapped Devon on the shoulder. “Good match.”

“Thanks.”

He held my gaze another second, making sure that I knew exactly what he was feeling, then turned and went over to the Ito guard to shake hands with her.

I let out a breath, but I went over and joined him, Poppy, and the guard. Despite all my fears and worries about Devon and this thing between us, there was no place I would rather be right now than celebrating with him.

 

The day wore on, and the matches continued.

Blake was up next, and he used his strength Talent to slice an Ito guard's sword in two. Even though the guard raised his hands, ceding the match, Blake still stepped forward and sliced his sword across the man's arm just because he could. Yeah, he was a complete and total jerk that way.

Vance won his match as well, using his strength and speed Talents to easily defeat a Salazar guard. Vance had kept his cloak and hat on while fighting, and when the match was finished, he pulled his hat off his head and swept into a low bow, as though he were an old-fashioned knight. Of course, the tourists loved it, cheering, taking photos, and chanting his name. I rolled my eyes. All the rubes were doing was inflating Vance's already enormous ego.

On his way out of the stadium, Vance stopped and smirked at me. “See? I told you that they'd be cheering for me. Try not to suck too much out there, okay, Lila?”

He swaggered past me and went over to Katia, who was standing by the fence a few feet away. Vance had been chatting up Katia all day long, although she kept ignoring him and looking over to where Felix was stationed with the healers. I even saw her wave to him a couple of times. Felix waved back, but his smile was strained.

Poppy was up next, and she used her speed Talent to run circles around a Volkov guard, easily winning the match.

Then it was Katia's turn. Agile, cunning, always on the move. She was a good fighter, one of the best I'd seen, right up there with Deah. But one thing seemed to be missing—her speed.

Katia didn't seem to be using any of her speed, her magic, today. Oh, she hopped up onto the rock formations and back off, leaped over the smaller stones, and skirted along the edges of the cold spring, but she didn't do any of those things any faster than a regular mortal would have. It was odd, especially given her blazing speed on the obstacle course yesterday. Maybe she just hadn't found her groove yet. But she still managed to slice her sword across the arm of her opponent when the Draconi guard tripped.

Katia smiled and waved, but a scowl spread over her face the second she turned away from the crowd. She stormed over to the fence and slammed her sword into the gate, shoving it open. When she realized that I was watching, she stopped, her cheeks red and her hazel eyes bright. I couldn't tell whether she was embarrassed or angry I'd seen her mini-meltdown.

“I should have done better,” Katia growled, trying to explain her temper tantrum.

“You won. That's all that matters, right?”

She thought about it. “Yeah, you're right. Thanks, Lila.”

She flashed me a smile, then moved over to her previous spot along the fence, accepting congratulations from the other Volkov guards.

Vance went over and started talking to her again. Instead of ignoring him the way she had before, Katia stared up at him, a thoughtful expression on her face. Then she sidled a little closer and started talking animatedly to Vance, who was hanging on her every word.

Katia's match had been right before mine, which was the last one of the opening round. To my surprise, a few nervous butterflies started flying around in my stomach. I handed my hat and cloak to Devon, who grinned.