Page 25 of This Dark Descent
Reid appeared in the doorway, a cup of tea in hand. She was starting to doubt that he consumed anything else. He dropped into his usual spot on the chaise with Widget. “Have you even ever watched the Illinir?”
Her cheeks flushed. “No, but I know what it’s like. What’s your point?”
“His point,” Damien said, rising to join him in the sitting area, “is that the Illinir is as much a battle as it is a race. The moment you’re away fromthe starting line, all those weapons everyone claimed not to have are going to start finding their way into people’s backs.”
Mikira was well aware of the race’s bloody reputation. “So?”
“So winning the first race is a good way to paint a target on your back.” Reid slouched into the plush chaise as if hoping it’d envelop him deeply enough that he could escape this conversation.
Damien sat down in an armchair. “The serious contenders are going to try to take out any worthwhile opponents as early as possible. If you establish yourself as competition, that will mean you.”
Mikira had known she’d have to defend herself in the race, but hearing herself spoken of as a target made that possibility feel all the more real. What if, after everything, all she got for her trouble was a knife in the side? If nothing else, she had to survive, or her sisters would be alone.
She swallowed hard. “Okay. So what’s your plan?”
“Make them think you’re terrible,” Reid said. “Shouldn’t be too hard.”
Oh, she was going to pour that scalding cup of tea right over his head.
“You want me to lose.” She glowered at Reid.
“We want them to underestimate you,” Damien clarified with a disapproving look in Reid’s direction. “The race fields a hundred riders. Only fifty will make it to the second round, twenty-five to the third, and ten to the final. You should progress to each stage, but don’t win outright. That way they won’t think you a priority, and you’ll be in the final race before anyone realizes what you’ve done.”
Mikira didn’t know why the plan sat with her so poorly. It made sense. But the thought of looking like a bad rider in front of so many people who knew her, knew her father, needled her pride. Her family’s name had been trodden on enough as it was.
“Can you do it?” Damien asked, and it felt like a challenge.
She folded her arms. “Of course I can bloody do it.”
“Good.”
Lunch arrived then, an assortment of light cheeses, fruit, and bread, whichthe servants spread across the tops of the stacked books as though they were used to them being used as a table. By the time they left, Arielle had joined them, her face and hands freshly scrubbed, and her dark curls bundled atop her head in a brightly patterned kerchief. The bruises around her throat had faded to a pale yellow, the bandage gone from her injured hand.
Mikira approached at Damien’s behest, ignoring Reid’s muttered protests about the state of her clothes as she sat down on the chaise.
“The reports from the showcases were about what we expected,” Damien began, holding up a stack of papers. “Most of the riders being picked up are little more than criminals hoping to fight their way through, but I had some people go through the registrations for the other riders, and it appears there’s a heavy trend toward speed enchantments this year.”
“I can include that,” Arielle said, already through her third pairing of bread and cheese. Mikira picked at the food alongside her, but Reid only seemed interested in his tea, and somehow, she couldn’t imagine Damien eating, as if he subsisted solely off of stoic looks and a steady diet of information.
“Are you aware of the order of enchantments for the races?” Damien asked her, setting the papers aside.
“Energy enchantments first,” Mikira replied, giving up on pretending to eat. “The course will test a horse’s agility with enchantments for movement, energy, and light.”
It was the same every Illinir. House Dramara began with a course molded by energy enchantments, followed by House Vanadahl’s course of behavior enchantments, House Ruthar’s physical enchantments, and last, House Kelbra’s ethereal enchantments. Each race was meant to honor a different Harbinger’s given magic, but in truth they’d become a stage for the greater houses to show off the skills of their enchanters, each trying to outdo the other.
Damien nodded. “The enchantments change each Illinir, and their design is kept secret, so I think a general agility charm is a good option.”
“Endurance would round out the physical category,” Mikira said thoughtfully. “But I’m more tempted to go with a behavior charm to keep the horse calm or something ethereal to help with the final race.”
Damien tapped one finger on the arm of his chair. “Historically, both the ethereal and behavioral races tend to target the riders more than the horses. I think we’re better off planning for the energy and physical.”
“So speed, agility, and endurance?” Arielle piled a plate with half the tray’s provisioning of fruit. “I can do that.”
“Good.” Damien stood and checked the pocket watch he kept in his vest. “I have another meeting to attend. In the meantime, Mikira, we’ll begin crafting your persona with the opening ball—by not attending.”
Mikira blinked. “What?”
The opening ball marked the start of the Illinir, the first of three others hosted by the greater houses before each of the races, culminating with the closing ball at the castle. They were an opportunity to place bets, craft alliances, and scope out the competition. Skipping one didn’t make any sense, even if she dreaded the idea of attending them.
