“Two-hundredth?!” I choke out, flicking my gaze to Stryker. He doesn’t seem to notice the shakiness of my voice, how my words are edged with fear.
“Oh, yes,” he says, turning in just such a way that I can see the shiny pinkness of a healing wound on his forehead. If it’s taken his skin several days to heal to this point, no wonder he’s having trouble thinking clearly. “Dorothy has been working to clear the land of sorcerers for a long time now.” He pauses again, squinting his face up. “How many years now, I can’t say. I believe I used to know …”
“I am so fucked,” I murmur, turning back to the crowd and the arena with its emerald studded walls. As I watch, the doors on both ends of the arena open and a wizard steps out on either side, each one with an animal companion beside them. The girl on the far end has what looks to be a wolf standing next to her while the other places her palm on the flank of a leopard-spotted stallion.
“I present you this first challenge: Breise, the Calm and Collected, versus Marilyn, the Brash and Impulsive.”
Dorothy waves her hand and a green shield ripples into place over the arena, its surface thin, shiny, and transparent, like a bubble. I have no idea what it’s for until a bell is rung and Marilyn, the Brash and Impulsive—who the fuck comes up with these names?!—throws a ball of fire at her opponent.
The other girl, Breise, deflects the magic with a raised hand and sends it crashing into the green shield. The crowd grasps, fluttering fans made of peacock feathers and waving around tiny, roasted bird legs as they cheer for their favorite contender. The Babylonian indolence of the audience is the most terrifying part of the whole scenario. They chat with one another, sip jewel-colored wines, and laugh as if two young girls aren’t fighting to the death for their amusement.
“They can’t be much older than I am,” I whisper, breath fogging the window.
My heart begins to beat like a wild thing, sweat soaking my palms. These girls were raised in this world; they know the rules. They know how to control their magic.
I don’t know shit.
“I can’t kill a teenage girl.” The words come out so quietly, I don’t expect Stryker to respond, especially not with his, uh, diminished mental capacities.
“Well, they certainly can’t kill you either,” Stryker says, tapping one finger against his forehead. “We’re blessed, me and you.” He continues feasting on his cakes, licking frosting from his fingers, as unaffected by the violence down below as any other asshole aristocrat in the audience. At least he has an excuse. What’s wrong with the rest of these people? “A witch’s mark is a powerful thing. Did you know they only have the power to give out one in their lifetime? Hopefully they won’t burn you if you win, like they did me.”
Stryker continues licking his fingers as Taavi nuzzles his face beneath my hand, encouraging me to give him a stroke.
“What can you teach me about magic?” I ask, spinning to face the addled wizard. He pauses in his eating to look at me with dulled golden eyes. “Right now. If you could only teach me one thing, what would it be?”
“One thing?” Stryker asks, narrowing his eyes in thought. He wipes the remainder of the white frosting on the black slacks he’s wearing. His outfit is a near clone to mine. I hope that doesn’t mean Dorothy is planning on putting him back in the Trials. “I’m not sure that I remember how magic works exactly.”
He stands up, banding one arm over his midsection and tapping at his lips with a single finger.
“Anything you can remember would be helpful,” I urge him, trying not to get frustrated.
“I don’t know how to be a wizard,” Taavi told me last night, taking my hands in his for just a few seconds before releasing them like they were too painful to touch. “But I do know that all your power comes from within. It’s all there, Oz, if only you can find a way to tap into it.”
“Anything I can remember …” Stryker begins as a huge gasp from the crowd draws my attention back to the arena. Marilyn, the girl with fireball, has created what looks like a lasso made of flames. Flames that, currently, are wrapped around the other girl’s neck.
I’m just glad I can’t hear her screams through the orb-like speakers.
As if he can sense my thoughts, Stryker taps one and sound explodes through the room. I will never forget the sound of that scream.
“Turn it off, you idiot!” I snap back, and he cringes, hitting the orb with his hand and then dropping his head in shame. Stryker, the Vain and Arrogant, my ass. The man before me hardly resembles the person he was on the Y.B.R. “Now, I want you to think really fucking hard about my question. If you can only remember one thing about magic, I want you to tell me.”
