The words sting more than they should. “Right. Training. Got it, Professor Proctor.”
His steel walls go up again, and we walk in tense silence until we reach a door that looks like it’s nearly one with the stone wall. It has a symbol carved into it—seven intertwined circles with flames around the edges.
“This leads to the base of the Scorched Circles,” Logan presses his palm to the door, waits for it to shimmer open, and steps through into the night air.
I follow him out, straight to the base of the Scorched Circles. The seven massive arenas loom above us in the darkness, all the way up to the Crown, and I’m struck by how alone we are out here. Just us, the stars, and all this unspoken tension.
“So,” I say, trying to sound more confident than I feel. “What are the odds I can win the tournament without accidentally electrocuting someone?”
“Jade.” He stops walking, focusing his stormy gaze on me. “The goal isn’t for you to win. The goal is for you to compete without Kieran thinking you’re holding back and throwing the matches, while also not losing control of your electricity and revealing what you are. If you lose every match but keep your secret, that’s still a victory, even if you have to suffer through kitchen and grounds duty next semester.”
“Hey, maybe I have a shot of not getting stuck with kitchen and grounds duty. After all, I took fencing for two whole weeks in middle school.” I lift my chin, determined to stand my ground. “And my tennis backhand is killer.”
He makes a sound that might be a suppressed laugh. “Somehow, I doubt your tennis swing will help you in magical combat. Neither will that summer you played squash at camp.”
I freeze, the night air suddenly feeling colder.
“I never told you about squash camp.”
The words hang between us, heavy with implication. Because he’s right—I did play squash at Camp Silver Lake when I was thirteen. But I’ve never told him about that. Not once.
He runs a hand through his hair, looking suddenly exhausted. “Did you bring your dagger?” he asks, changing the subject before I can push further.
“You’re not going to explain how you know about squash camp?”
His jaw clenches. “You must have mentioned it at some point.”
“I definitely didn’t mention squash camp. I hated squash camp. I mentally squashed it out of my memory.” I try to glare at him, but it’s impossible given the tiniest bit of a smirk he’s giving me.
In a second, the smirk is gone, and he’s back to full-on business mode. “Do you really want to stand here and interrogate me when you’re days away from a tournament that could expose what you are and put you at the mercy of the Council?”
“Don’t change the subject?—”
“I’m not.” He steps closer, close enough that I can see the exhaustion carved into every line of his face. “I’m reminding you what’s at stake, and that I’m the only one who can help keep you safe.”
I want to push, to keep demanding answers, but the set of his shoulders tells me I won’t get them. And maybe he’s right. Maybe I need to focus on not electrocuting my classmates and revealing myself as a magical freak before I worry about his mysterious knowledge of my past.
So, I reach into my jacket and pull out my weapon. “Of course I brought my dagger.”
Warmth flickers in his eyes, but he shutters it away and takes a step back.
“Good.” His voice softens. “Maybe you’re not hopeless after all.”
“You wouldn’t be wasting your time with me if you thought I was hopeless.”
“No,” he agrees quietly. “I wouldn’t.”
I swallow down the vulnerable feeling trying to make it up my throat. “So,” I say, less steady than I wanted. “Which circle are we starting in?”
“I told Kieran to put you in the Void Pit first,” he says simply. “Your magic won’t work there, which means you won’t be at risk of exposing yourself. It’ll buy us extra time to work on your control for when you’re fighting in the other circles.”
“Makes sense,” I agree, and we walk the rest of the way up to the Void Pit in silence.
The entire time, my mind races, thinking about the things he knows that he shouldn’t. Squash camp, every detail of what I needed to do to pass the Underworld trial, the perfect places to touch me…
“Ready?” Logan asks when the Void Pit yawns before us, dark and waiting.
I pause to look at him—really look at him. He’s standing farther away than necessary, his hands clasped behind his back like he’s physically preventing himself from reaching for me. Themoonlight catches the exhaustion on his face, and tension coils in every line of his body.
