Then, from the opposite side, Aric’s team enters. He leads them at a jog, and my eyes feel glued to him as he waves at the crowd and pumps his fist in the air, eliciting a cheer—and a scream from Lyra. And I’m now even more grateful that Alina and Raelan are sitting between me and her. I fear Lyra might’ve burst my eardrum otherwise.
Aric glances around, and I wonder what—or who—he’s looking for. Then he approaches the red-haired witch, and they exchange a handshake. She pushes up onto her toes to say something in his ear, her lips brushing close to his cheek, and a little burst of unfamiliar heat goes through me, startling me so much that I sit up a bit straighter, prompting Maeve to look over at me.
“That’s Morgan,” she says, though there’s no warmth in her tone. “Captain of the Sigil Strikers and Aric’s ex... something.” She wrinkles her nose and lifts one shoulder in a shrug. “I don’t really know what they were. But that’s history now.” Her dark purple gaze lingers on me for a moment, but I don’t know what she’s looking for.
“I see,” I say, then reach up to fiddle with the fringe on the end of my scarf.
A small smile crosses Maeve’s lips before she looks away.
The players take their places on the field, Morgan and Aric both in forward positions. A professor I’ve not yet had a class with and whose name I don’t know steps up between Aric and Morgan, holding the arcane sphere. He says something, though I can’t hear it over the sound of the crowd, and the two team captains nod. Then he blows a shrill whistle and blasts the sphere into the air with a burst of air magic.
And the game begins.
From what I recall of Alina’s explanation when I came to a game two years ago, the goal of the players is to kick, throw, or carry the arcane sphere through the goalposts. But the field is dotted with glowing runes etched into the grass, and when the sphere passes over one, it becomes magically charged—sometimes with fire, ice, or a burst of air speed—making it even more difficult to control.
The game is fast-paced, and at times I struggle to keep my eye on the sphere as it’s passed from player to player and blasted with elemental magic. The players are focused, yelling plays to one another, sprinting back and forth across the field, all trying their hardest to put the sphere through the opposing team’s goalposts.
At some point, though, I find that I’m no longer watching the game; I’m just watching Aric.
His hair is pulled back into a tight braid, revealing his ears and the jewelry he wears in them. I don’t know as much as I would like to about orcish culture, and I wonderif it’s a personal preference or something that has a deeper significance.
Aric is running, arms held out, ready to catch the sphere, which was kicked to him by one of his teammates. But right before he can catch it, a fireball blasts it out of his reach and right into the air magic of a Sigil Striker.
“Damn,” Lyra says from the other side of Raelan. “That fire witch is no joke.”
Maeve humphs but otherwise says nothing.
Now my eyes are on Morgan as she jogs past Aric and says something to him before giving him a catlike smile. He shakes his head, looking frustrated... but maybe a little impressed as well. Which makes sense. Morganisimpressive. I don’t even frequent these games, and I can already tell she’s a powerful player. She has a firm handle on her fire magic, which makes her even more dangerous on the field, seeing as fire is one of the hardest and most volatile elemental magics to control.
“Maybe she could give you some tips,” Raelan jokes.
Lyra shoots him a sideways glare. “And maybe I’m about to get myself a dragon-tooth necklace.”
Raelan smirks, showing off his canine tooth on one side. “You’re welcome to try, fire witch.”
On the field, Morgan blasts the arcane sphere through Hexrush’s goalposts, and half of the crowd cheers.
“Dammit,” Raelan growls. “Stop distracting me.”
Lyra just pushes her hair back and lets out a loud boo, drawing sharp looks from some of the Sigil Strikers fans seated around her.
Aric huddles up with his team. They gather around him, dripping in sweat, listening intently and nodding to whatever he’s saying. And watching Aric like this, in his element, guiding his team, makes heat flutter in my low belly.
He’s their captain, their leader, and they all look at him like they’d follow him to the end of the world if he asked them to.
And I realize that I...likethat. I’m not a leader—I’m much too quiet and reserved for that—but Aric makes it look so natural. And it’s... attractive.
My cheeks feel a touch warmer than they did a moment ago.
Aric claps one of his teammates on the back before they resume their positions on the field, though this time they arrange themselves differently than they did at the start of the game. A different play, maybe?
The same professor blows the whistle and sends the arcane sphere into the chill air, and the teams leap into action.
I keep my gaze firmly on Aric this time. And as soon as a Hexrush player seizes control of the sphere, he starts to sprint down the field, along with one other witch on his team. The player with the sphere passes through an air rune, gaining a burst of speed, and they use that enhanced speed to throw the sphere to Aric with incredible power.
I squeeze the end of my scarf in my hands, afraid the sphere might rip Aric’s arm clean off given how fast it’s hurtling toward him. But he leaps and catches it against his stomach, cradling it to lessen the impact—though it still looks painful.
Then he’s sprinting again, looking ahead to the witch on his team who’s nearly at the end of the field. With a concentrated furrow in his brow, he drops the sphere and gives it a sharp kick, somehow perfectly angling it so it soars over the head of a Striker who leaps to intercept it. His teammate catches it, and now she’s running for the goalposts, her long legs moving so fast they’re almost a blur.
