Dark Heart of Magic
Page 58
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“Oh,” I whispered. “Oh no.”
“Oh no is right,” Oscar said, landing on one of the fence posts.
I looked at Devon, but judging from his tense expression, he wasn’t any happier about this than I was. Because now, instead of fighting Deah next, I had to fight another Sinclair.
I had to fight a member of my own Family.
I had to fight Devon.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Claudia 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.
One.
Sure enough, Devon was late in bringing up his sword to block my next blow.
Two.
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.
Three.
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.
“Oh no is right,” Oscar said, landing on one of the fence posts.
I looked at Devon, but judging from his tense expression, he wasn’t any happier about this than I was. Because now, instead of fighting Deah next, I had to fight another Sinclair.
I had to fight a member of my own Family.
I had to fight Devon.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Claudia 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.
One.
Sure enough, Devon was late in bringing up his sword to block my next blow.
Two.
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.
Three.
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.
