“This is all messed up,” I mutter, digging my hands into my hair. “Going up against someone like Cyrus in the tournament? He’s been training his entire life. Did you see that blade? How are we ever supposed to win?”
“Believe it or not, Cyrus is the least of our worries.” Taron reclines on his elbows and his shirt rides up slightly. I catch a glimpse of the defined contours of his torso disappearing into his belt and I quickly look away.
Warmth blooms in my cheeks. I ignore it. “What do you mean?”
“That girl from the tavern, Kara DeLange,” he says. “She’s a top pick among the bookies to win the Reckoning.”
“How do you know that?” I ask.
Taron finally meets my eyes. “Unlike you,” he says dryly, “I’ve done my homework and didn’t dive into this unprepared.”
“Seriously? I was only dragged into this yesterday. When was I supposed to conduct my research?”
“You don’t know anything about the competing teams?” Taron cocks a brow at me and I shrug. “Maybe grab a newspaper once in a while. The Principal Academies have been doing profiles on their selected students.”
A different kind of heat rises into my face. He’s insufferable. “Instead of berating me, why don’t you justtell me already? Who is Kara, and why is she the odds-on favourite?”
Taron sits up and fixes his gaze on the bay window. Beyond it, the city of Rava sprawls.
“For starters, she’s a Helio,” he says. “Enrolled at the Solarflare Institute in Solara – top of her class. Word has it she’s set to enlist in the Principal Guard post-graduation, and it’s not been confirmed yet, but she recently secured herself a full scholarship at Rava Academy here in the capital.”
“And?”
“And what?”
“What else do you know about her?”
Taron sighs. “She’s charismatic. Good with people.”
“What about her teammate, the other girl? Who is she?”
“Savannah Dlamini, a Psam from the White Desert. Her father’s a renowned sandshaper in the Principal Guard, so she probably has more training than any other competitor in the tournament.”
I vaguely remember Alaric and his group discussing the daughter of a renowned sandshaper. That was her? She looked … friendlier than I would imagine. But then I recall a line from the Games Master’s Post I found in Wren’s rucksack earlier.
Do not be fooled by the merriment that fills the palace halls, dear friends, for the warmest smiles may soon be the ones that cut deepest.
“Is Savannah enrolled in an Academy?” I ask.
“She’s been honing her talents at Rava Academy sincechildhood.” Taron sounds like he’s reading from a book. It’s starting to worry me how little I know. “They’re a deadly duo.”
Exhausted suddenly, I sit down on the edge of the bed next to Taron. I immediately regret it. The sudden physical closeness between us feels suffocating, almost too intimate for comfort.
I shift away a bit and try to lighten my tone. “Well, great. That’s just the boost of confidence I needed.”
“It’s not all bad,” Taron says.
“How so?” I turn to look at him.
“All eyes will be on them. No one will notice us.”
True, I suppose.But it still doesn’t fill me with the comfort I need.
I reach into my boot for my shears and gather the fake sigil in my palm. The stone in the centre turns a muddled grey colour, but the medallion itself glows warmly, revealing the details of my stolen identity etched into it.
“What about Maeve and Wren?” I ask. “What do the papers say about them?”
“Not much. Nothing formidable, at least. They’re both from Moondance Haven. Not enrolled in any Academies. Privately trained. No one really knows what their talents are, even.”
