Muscles deep in my belly tighten, reacting to his words and to the hint of dark gravel in his voice.
Griffin and I break apart when the gates clang again, and more officials arrive to escort us to our quarters. I recognize the scribe who registered our team, and he doesn’t look happy.
“I need a big crate,” I tell him.
His mouth pinches into a frown. “Competitors don’t make demands.”
“Fine. I’ll let the spiders loose, ruin ticket sales, and probably cause widespread panic throughout the city.” I flash my teeth. “Sounds like fun.”
The man snaps his fingers. “Get her a crate!” His expression sours further. “You didn’t mention compulsion, which is the only path to creature driving.”
I shrug. “You didn’t ask.”
“Compulsion is generally considered offensive magic.”
“Compulsion is neither offensive nor defensive magic.” I quote one of the many tutors of my youth. “It’s the Magoi’s disposition that determines its bent.” I stare the Gameskeeper down even though he’s about a foot taller than I am. “He threw the spiders at us. I simply threw them back.”
“With brain-hemorrhaging power.”
“So?”
“And you disappeared.”
Again…“So?”
“What else can you do?” His eyes narrow. “Whoareyou?”
Luckily, a big wooden crate arrives—an old weapons chest—saving me from answering. Not that I would have anyway. I herd the spiders into the chest, sever my connection with them, and then address the two men latching down the top. “Take them to the Fisan Magoi. If he’s unable to care for them, bring them back to me.” I’ll figure something out. Maybe a trip to the woods when this is all over.
Assuming we live.
We exit the arena to a decent amount of cheering considering we barely drew blood, and I even hear a few calls of thanks for keeping the spiders under control. Flowers and tokens rain over the barrier. I pick up a long-stemmed purple blossom and then use it to salute the crowd as we pass under the gate. The applause grows deafening.
“Now who’s putting on a show?” Griffin whispers in my ear.
Grinning, I elbow him in the ribs.
Carver snags my flower and gives it a sniff. Grimacing, he hands it back. “Can’t you use the spiders in the next fight?”
“Initiating an attack would mean using offensive magic,” the official answers for me, eyeing me suspiciously. “Only return what comes at you first, or I’ll have you eliminated.”
I nod curtly, but I want to crow. In front of several Gameskeepers, he just sanctioned my use of other Magoi’s creatures, and even their magic.
Selena precedes us back to our suite. She ushers us inside, closing the door on the curious Gameskeepers with an imperious command to bring food. They don’t even think about arguing.
She takes in the scrapes and bruises she’ll need to treat, coming to me first. Her gentle touch on my cheek and jaw sinks hot pinpricks of healing magic into my skin. “You bled where you scraped through the sand. And here.” A long, smooth finger traces the cut on my neck where I sliced through the web.
I try not to wince as Selena’s magic bites and stings, healing me quickly. “For the first time in my life,” I say, “I really don’t care.”
Arching perfect dark-blonde eyebrows, Selena moves to the sand-encrusted scrapes on my arms, washing them with water first. My elbows are a mess.
“She’ll know where you are,” she says.
“Mother will wonder what I’m doing here. It’ll drive her crazy.”
Selena smiles faintly, and I grit my teeth when she concentrates on a particularly raw spot. She’s so powerful that the whole process is over quickly.
“Done.” Straightening, Selena touches first my chest and then my forehead. The currents of magic in her fingertips offer sweet sensations now—home, shelter, peace—things I’ve only ever felt with her or with Griffin. Her scent washes over me, soft rain on new leaves, the freshness rejuvenating. Her bottomless gaze roams my painted face. “Shadows to light.” Her expression is both wry and a little sad. “He might be good for you after all.”
