Dark Heart of Magic (22 page)

C
laudia kept arguing with the officials, but it was obvious they'd already made up their minds, and this was happening.

I looked at Devon. “I don't want to fight you.”

He shrugged. “I don't want to fight you either, but this is what we have to do.”

“But how did this even happen?”

Felix stabbed his finger up at the Draconi box. “Apparently, his royal highness didn't want you to be Deah's next opponent, so he had a word with the officials and convinced them to shake up the brackets at the last minute. Claimed it would add more excitement to the tournament. We all know that Victor is just trying to make things easier for Deah. After all, she's beaten Katia before, and you and Devon have both looked scary good during the tournament.”

I frowned. “So he wants to give Deah a better chance of winning by having one of us Sinclairs knock the other out.”

“You got it, cupcake,” Oscar said, glaring at the officials.

I looked at Devon again. “So what are we going to do?”

He straightened up to his full height, a determined look flaring in his eyes. “We're going to fight. We're going to show everyone that the Sinclair Family has two of the best fighters in Cloudburst Falls. And we're going to do it honestly. No compulsion, no transference, no magic or Talents of any kind. Just you and me going sword to sword. No hard feelings no matter who wins. And whoever does win will kick ass in the final round and win the tournament. What do you say to that, Lila?”

I grinned at him and stuck out my hand. “I'd say that you've got a deal, Sinclair. Winner take all.”

“Winner take all, Merriweather.”

Devon grinned back, and we shook on it.

 

Despite all of Claudia's arguments, the officials announced the change in the brackets to great applause from the crowd. Devon and I were up first, and we strode out to the middle of the stadium. It was just the two of us, standing in the center of the ring, facing each other down. It reminded me of the very first day I'd come to the Sinclair mansion, sparring with Devon as a test to see whether I was good enough to join the Family or not.

The official introduced us and reviewed the rules before moving in, raising his hand, and starting the fight. Devon and I circled each other. This wasn't the first time we'd fought, so we already knew all about each other's strengths, weaknesses, and tendencies. But this match was for a spot in the final round, and we both knew what was at stake. Not only representing the Sinclairs well, but also having fun. Because there was nothing we both loved more than a good fight.

Finally, Devon moved in, raised his sword, and began the battle in earnest. Back and forth, we danced across the stone ring, neither one of us able to touch each other with our weapons to draw first blood. All around us, cheers and yells exploded over and over again in a continuous roar that rattled from one side of the stadium to the other. The crowd wanted a fight? Well, they were getting a good one.

A minute ticked by, then another one, and another. And still Devon and I fought, our blades clashing together over and over again, up high, down low, side to side to side, each one of us fighting as hard and fast as we could. The crowd noise faded away until it was a dull roar in the back of my mind, and the world reduced to Devon in front of me, his feet moving in elaborate patterns in the grass, his hand clenching the hilt of his sword, his green eyes narrowed in fierce concentration.

I didn't use any of my magic on him, not my transference power and not even my soulsight to try to anticipate his next move. I wanted to win fair and square, just me and him and our fighting skills, with no magic of any kind, just like we'd promised each other.

So we fought and fought and fought, with the
clash-clash
and
clang-clang-clang
of our swords ringing out through the stadium, even louder than the crowd. At least, that's how it seemed to me. My ponytail slapped against my shoulders, sweat streamed down my face, and my arms ached from swinging my sword over and over again, but I kept right on fighting, and so did Devon.

Finally, though, Devon made a mistake.

He got a little too close to the cold spring, and one of his feet slipped off the edge for a second before he managed to right himself. It was a small mistake, a tiny error, and could just as easily have happened to me, but it would give me the opening I needed three moves ahead, and I was going to take advantage of it.

Sure enough, Devon was late in bringing up his sword to block my next blow.

Then he was late again stepping back out of the way when I sliced out with my blade. He was barely parrying my blows, and he whirled away, trying to buy himself some space to get his timing back on track.

Devon faced me and raised his sword to attack me again, but I stepped back out of his reach and pointed my sword at him. Devon glanced down at the blood dripping down his bare arm.

He bowed to me. “You win, Lila.” He straightened up and grinned. “I knew that you would.”

The crowd went wild—hooting, hollering, and cheering—knowing they'd just seen the match of the tournament. Everyone surged to their feet, giving us a standing ovation and cheering louder and longer than they had for anyone else in the entire tournament.

The official stepped into the stone ring and raised my hand high, declaring me the winner. Devon started to move back to give me the limelight, but I grinned, reached out, clasped his hand in mine, and pulled him up next to me.

He grinned back at me and tightened his grip. Together, we raised our clasped hands high to the massive roar of the crowd. Devon looked at me, all the warmth in his eyes and heart reflected back in my own.

Felix was right. Nobody had lost here today. As far as I was concerned, Devon and I had both won.

 

Still hand in hand, Devon and I left the stadium floor and stepped behind the chain-link fence. We were swarmed and spent the next five minutes accepting backslaps, handshakes, and congratulations from the other competitors. Poppy and Felix finally muscled their way over to us, congratulating us as well, while Oscar buzzed around and around our shoulders.

Finally, the stadium quieted again, and we turned to watch the match between Katia and Deah that would decide which of them I had to fight in the final round.

Deah nodded at Katia as they faced each other in the stone ring, but Katia didn't return the gesture. Instead, she kept twirling and twirling her sword around and around in her hand, loosening up. Every once in a while, she would turn toward me enough that I could see the determined glint in her bright green eyes. The official called out the instructions again; then the fight began.

Katia immediately went on the offensive, moving quicker than I'd ever seen her move before, even during the obstacle course. Her movements were almost too fast to follow, and the only reason Deah was able to block her blows was because she'd long ago memorized the moves and countermoves, just as we all had.

And it wasn't just that Katia was fast, but she also seemed stronger today, hitting Deah's sword as hard as she could over and over again and showing no signs of stopping. I'd known that Katia was upset about losing to Deah in the tournament twice before, but she was fighting like it was a real battle and giving it everything she had. Katia had told me how much she wanted to win, and I'd felt her desire for myself, but she was really putting it all out there.

But despite all her speed, sharp blows, and determination, Katia still wasn't able to get the best of the other girl.

Deah realized that Katia was trying to overwhelm her, and she did just enough to keep herself in the match, waiting for Katia's initial fury to burn itself out. And it slowly did. The longer the fight continued, the slower and weaker Katia became, almost as if she'd used up all of her speed and strength with that opening round of attacks.

I didn't know exactly how Deah's mimic Talent worked, but I'd thought it must be similar to my own soulsight. It seemed I was right. Deah stared into Katia's eyes the whole time, as if she was peering into the other girl the way I could look into other people. The longer Deah stared at Katia, the more she started to move exactly like the other girl, flowing from one attack position to the next, until it seemed as though Katia were fighting herself. And not only that, but it almost seemed as if Deah grew stronger and stronger as the match went on, while Katia kept slowly weakening.

Katia knew the tide was turning, and she snarled and lashed out with a series of quick attacks, designed to end the fight. But Deah was too smart, too experienced, too good, for that, and it didn't work. Every time Deah blocked her latest blow, it only made Katia that much angrier. My eyes locked with Katia's for a second as she whirled around, her hazel-green gaze burning brighter than ever before.

Her red-hot anger, rock-hard determination, and aching desperation punched me in the gut one right after another.
Bam-bam-bam.
Katia wanted to win the tournament, but even more than that, she had this hot, desperate
need
to beat Deah, as though it was more important to her than anything else.

But she wasn't going to be able to do it.

Deah was clearly the better fighter. Oh, she wasn't quicker or stronger than Katia—I doubted that anyone was right now—but Deah could think ahead and plan out her moves in a way that Katia couldn't, just as I'd been able to think ahead in my fight with Devon. Katia didn't realize it, but Deah was slowly driving her toward the cold spring in the center of the ring. In seven more moves, Katia would go into the water and Deah would win the match.

The fight dragged on, the cheers getting louder and louder with every sharp, ringing blow the two girls exchanged. Katia raised her sword high, putting everything she had into a strike aimed squarely at Deah's head, as though she really wanted to cleave Deah's skull in two with her sword. Everyone in the stadium gasped, including me—because if that blow connected, then Deah was dead.

But Deah managed to bring her own weapon up in time to block Katia's sword, the muscles in her arms standing out and showing what an enormous effort it was. Deah stared into Katia's eyes, dug her feet into the ground, and threw off the other girl, who shrieked in anger. Deah snarled back at her, and the two of them started circling each other again, with Deah still driving Katia closer and closer to the cold spring the whole time.

Katia was in a rage now, and she whipped her sword back and forth, and back and forth, moving harder and faster than ever before. But Deah matched her move for move.

Finally, Katia made a mistake, the same one Devon had made. She got too close to the edge of the cold spring, and her foot slipped. Katia windmilled her free arm for balance and Deah took advantage, stepping up and slicing her blade across the back of Katia's sword hand. That small motion pushed Katia over the edge and sent her toppling backward, straight into the water.

Deah stepped back.

Katia came up sputtering. She shoved her wet hair off her face and stared in disbelief at the blood welling up out of the shallow cut on her hand. Her fingers tightened around her sword, making more blood ooze out of the wound, and she scrambled out of the water and surged forward as though she was going to keep on attacking Deah, even though the match was over.

One of the officials quickly stepped in front of Katia, cutting her off, even as another official reached for Deah's hand and held it up.

“Winner, Deah Draconi!” the official yelled.

The stadium erupted in cheers. Deah glanced up at the Draconi box, giving Seleste and Victor a happy wave. Then she went over to Katia and held out her hand for the other girl to shake, but Katia gave her a disgusted look, whirled around, and stormed out of the stadium.

Deah kept smiling and waving to the crowd. Beside me, Devon, Felix, Poppy, and Oscar were talking about the match, but I only had eyes for Katia.

I slipped away from the others and followed Katia over to the Volkov tent, which was deserted, since everyone had been gathered around the fence, watching the match. Katia slung her sword as hard as she could, and the weapon zipped through the air and stuck in one of the wooden poles holding up the tent, wobbling back and forth.

“Dammit!” she screamed.

Katia went on a rampage—knocking weapons off tables, dashing cups and plates to the ground, and slamming her fists into every single thing she could. I'd heard of 'roid rage before, but Katia was beyond even that. I moved away from the tent entrance, not wanting to embarrass her with the realization that someone was watching her epic meltdown.

Finally, after a couple of minutes, the noise and cursing stopped, and Katia stepped back outside. She saw me standing near the tent. She hesitated a moment, then strode over to me, looking out into the stadium. Deah was still there, smiling, waving, and signing autographs for some of the tourist rubes, as well as members of the other Families. Katia scowled, white-hot rage flaring in her hazel eyes.

“You fought a good match,” I said, trying to cheer her up. “The way you moved out there . . . it was incredible how fast you were.”

She gave me a disgusted look as though I'd just said the stupidest thing ever. “Not fast enough. Not good enough. I'm never fast enough, I'm never good enough. Not with
her
around.”

She glared at Deah a final time, then stomped off into the fairgrounds. I let her go. Yeah, it sucked to lose, especially to the same person over and over again, but that was life sometimes. Katia seemed to specifically blame Deah because she'd lost, but Deah had clearly been the better fighter. I might not like Deah, but she'd won fair and square, just as I had against Devon.