“I don’t think your suitor likes me much.” Olivin adjusted his robes. They were a simpler design than the formal opening ceremony ones—sleeveless and open low on the sternum.
“He’snotmy suitor.”
“Ah, right, so you’ve said. Does he know that?” Olivin glanced over her shoulder. She could tell the moment he locked eyes with Cullen by the slight smile he wore. His eyes shifted back to her. Eira pursed her lips, not rising to the bait. “I’m not going to go easy on you, Eira.”
“I was about to say the same thing.”
“Good. I want to see the full power of the woman who has made the Pillars quake.”
They each stepped backward, rather than putting their backs to each other. Eira debated what her first attack would be. They had already faced off once before, more or less, during the first game. But this time was different. It was just them. No chaos. No help from others.
He knew she would go for removing his Lightspinning by gagging him. What could he do to mitigate that? As the seconds stretched on before the bell, Eira’s strategy turned into more panic than planning. Did she even try to gag him? Or should she go for something else?
The bell rang.
Eira summoned a dagger of ice with one hand. With the other, she flung magic toward Olivin as a whip of water. She would catch him off guard. He expected her to go for his jaw. So she—
She’d miscalculated.
“Loft not.” He said it so quickly the words almost merged into one.
Her lids were heavy; consciousness slipped from her. Those were the words that Ferro had used against her. Eira tried to fight the unnatural sleep with all her might. It became easier when she crashed into the ground.
Still groggy, Eira could see the boots approaching her.
“Impressive you can still resist.” The words were filled with genuine awe.
Eira groaned, pressing her hand into the ground. Rather than trying to get up, she allowed her magic to seep into the earth and spread outward, creeping toward him.
Olivin danced backward, saying, “Kot sorre.”
A Lightspinning glyph and dozens of invisible hands rolled her like a blanket, over and over. He was going to push her out of the ring. Using two daggers of ice, Eira dug them into the earth, slowing herself.
She swung her head up, meeting his eyes.
“Watt radia.” A glyph appeared across his middle, splitting. One side went up, the other down, wiping him from existence in the process. He’d bragged about his illusionary skills and now she saw just how good they were up close.
Eira fought to shove off the last of the grogginess, summoning her magic around her as well. She scrambled when a puff of dust was disturbed on the arena floor next to her. The crowd shouted, upset over the sudden invisibility of their competitors. Eira tuned them out.
He could only target her if he could see her. She had to find him first if she was going to win.
Lifting her hands overhead, Eira dropped her illusion and dug deep into her well of power. She summoned a downpour over their section of the arena. Olivin was good enough to hide the splashes of his footprints in his illusion. But he wasn’t good enough to hide the muddy prints, or the sound.
With a fist and an upward motion, Eira summoned a jagged collection of ice spears. The splashes jumped back. She repeated it with the other hand. More spaces. She had him. With a little bit more she could push him outside the ring. Just one more—
“I can illusion with both sound and sight,” Olivin whispered, his lips brushing against the shell of her ear. She was done for. “Kot sorre.”
The glyph crashed into her back. The magical hands had returned, pushing her relentlessly. Eira hadn’t focused enough on the curve of the rope marking the in-bounds of the ring.
She stumbled over and lost.
30
It was a long, long walk back to the village. None of them had managed to get a single point. Not one. So much for their initial strong showings.
For winning the team tournament, Olivin and the other competitors from Meru were given an opportunity to dine with royals. Eira suspected there wouldn’t be any starlit picnics with Lumeria in attendance.
But Eira didn’t care about dinners, or the tournament, in that moment. She still had a simmering anger for what Cullen pulled. Something that wasn’t going to be quietly ignored.
