Bran opened his mouth to object—he’d decided to leave this game between them—but Lady Artemis beat him to it.
“But he’s?—”
She didn’t speak the next word.
She didn’t need to.
They all heard it.
A sudden, specific rage expanded through Bran.
A rage he’d carefully held bound inside his deepest self.
A rage that must be denied light and oxygen—or it would destroy all in its path.
“Infirm?” he asked, the word a bullet.
Lady Artemis paled and swallowed against a surely dry throat.
The bullet had hit its mark.
But he experienced no satisfaction and no diminishment of rage, for the fact remained. Hewasinfirm—and would be so for all his remaining days.
Yet, where moments ago he’d wanted to object, now, with fury fueling him, he wanted to compete. Earlier, he’d sat staring into the fire, filled with a shame and dread that hit like dagger thrusts to the gut,waiting. Whether it was in three seconds or three minutes or three hours, he would have to stand and walk to the dining room—withherobserving.
But now, he felt as if he’d pushed through dread and shame, as if they’d been mere appetizers to the main course, into a state of utter, sublime self-loathing.
Why not?
Why not compete against Lady Artemis Keating?
Why not give the universe permission to drag him yet lower?
There seemed to be no bottom to it—and it wasn’t as if the universe needed permission to do as it willed, anyway.
“Not physical feats,” explained Sir Abstrupus, “but rather feats of skill and the mind.” He chuckled. “And some luck thrown in, too.”
Was that relief Bran felt?
He knew better than to trust it.
Sir Abstrupus stood. His bursts of sprightliness still caught Bran by surprise. “If you will follow me into the next room, the contest shall begin forthwith.”
Lady Artemis gasped. “Now?”
Bran could almost admire her capacity for surprise.
Of course, the treatment she’d received from the universe differed greatly from his.
“None of us is getting any younger,” Sir Abstrupus tossed over his shoulder, as he made for a set of double doors that swung open with a dramatic flourish.
Bran felt questioning eyes bore into him from across the table.
Eyes he supposed he couldn’t ignore.
He allowed his gaze to slide over.
She didn’t hesitate. “Did you know about this?”
