“That’s what she’s wanted all along.” Jeren grits his teeth.
“What does it matter? I have to lose anyway,” Lana seethes. “You have my word.”
Ilwen smiles, then raises her voice again. “But what’s the word of a Sentient spy worth?” Her handful of supporters begin to chime in, their angry eyes on Lana.
Ilwen’s little show needs to end. Now. “Ilwen, stand down.” I don’t release Tarvan, not until he changes his tone toward Lana, but I can multitask.
“And you.” She whirls on me. “You let your own motherdiebecause of this Omega. You followed Lana right into the Sentients’ arms.”
“Ilwen,” Ceredes’s voice rolls thunderously through the room. “You need to leave.”
Her gaze snaps to him, and I can taste her hurt like ozone after a lightning strike. Ceredes is the splinter she can’t remove, the one she wants to punish Lana for. She stares him down. “Are you going to make me, profligate?”
He walks to her until they’re only inches apart and she leans back to look up at him. “I’m not going to do anything to you, Ilwen. That’s why you’re so angry.”
She makes a strangled noise, the ozone sensation increasing, then turns and storms out, Justa, Unar, and a handful of other cadets following.
Tarvan mouths ‘I’m sorry’ over and over again as he starts turning blue.
I finally release him, and he falls to the mat and gasps in air interspersed with hoarse apologies.
Lana comes to me. “Are you all right?”
“I will be.” I kiss her forehead. “After you beat Ilwen to within an inch of her life.”
“Really?” Her eyebrows rise.
“Really.” I don’t want her to lose. Not now. Not when we need a win so badly.
“That’s what I’m talking about.” Jeren grins. “Winner takes all.”
“Ceredes?” I turn to the most logical of our crew. “What do you think?”
He taps his fingertips on his chin, then stops, a smirk curling one corner of his lips. “Lana, bury her.”
30
Lana
I’ve been putting the duel on the back burner in my mind. Not because it isn’t worrisome and important, but because I simply don’t have enough headspace to consider all the things going wrong in my life right now. Kyte’s feelings, the Sentient threat, even the mind-blowing sex I had with my Alphas are all more important to me than whatever crap Ilwen intends to pull at the duel. And what’s more, once the stupid contest is over, we’re all hopping a transport ship to take us to Latrides for Councilor Ellarian’s funeral.
“One thing at a time.” Jeren strokes my hair.
“This isn’t like aHunger Gamessort of thing, right?” I bounce on the balls of my feet as Onin watches me from across the room. The fact that he’s here and at the ready is a bit troubling.
“Hmm? I’m not familiar with those.” Onin inspects the tray of syringes, one set of his hands a little shaky. I guess he’s feeling some nerves, too.
“Hunger Games. It’s this story about a bunch of high school kids that are forced to compete in this tournament thing, though I don’t remember why, and they have to kill each other off until only one’s left.”
“I’d win that.” Ceredes crosses his arms over his broad chest.
“That’s not the point.” I check to make sure my bun is tight for the millionth time. It’s hard to get the hair to stay neat when I have these horns poking out.
“I’m just saying I’d win. I’d kill everyone.”
“Yeah? But what if I was one of your competitors?”
He grimaces.
