“You fucking bitch!” screams Quinn, spitting blood and punching down at Adria, who rolls to the side to avoid her.
Ronan gestures to the judges to step in. From their hesitation, they’re reluctant to do so, likely fearing for their own safety.But they finally do manage to split them apart, much to the disappointment of the crowd.
“You’re dead,” says Quinn.
But between her bloody face and her inability to observe what Adria is planning, she can’t make anything out of their next exchange, and Adria scores a quick tap to Quinn’s leg to end it.
“Victory!”
Ronan looks at me, and I don’t need to feel his feelings to know he’s thinkingI told you so.“At least she won’t be as insufferable as Quinn,” he says as Adria takes a victory lap around the stage.
“Not for you, maybe,” I say with a groan. “I have to share a room with her.”
“There are other rooms in the palace,” he says withanother fucking wink.
“I think there’s something wrong with your eyelid,” I say, trying to ignore the little surge of excitement that pulses through me at his words.
“Maybe so.” He winks again, just to annoy me, as he stands to announce the victor.
“I give you the Champion of the Blade, Adria of House Verran! All champions, please take the stage.”
One by one, the champions of each event ascend the platform at the front of the stage. Ronan announces each of them in turn, placing a laurel wreath in their hair with steady hands.
I’m not sure what I should do. Ronan said he would crown me Champion of the Bow, but I’m still not certain I deserve it. I keep my seat until he crowns Adria.
“Behold, your Champions of Sai! Truly, Sai has honored us by giving us these incredible athletes, mages, and fighters.”
Maybe he changed his mind?
“But of all the people we honor tonight, there is one who we honor above all others. She is the reason I’m standing here before you.”
Oh, shit.We’re doing this.
“I give you the Champion of the Bow, the Hero of Selara, Sylvie of House Verran!”
Ronan gestures to my chair. Instantly, I feel every eye in the room fall on me.
I slowly rise from my seat, my body stiff and heavy, crushed under the weight of their collective gaze.
The roar is deafening, of course. But what surprises me is the sudden flurry of color and movement descending from the stands above.
Flowers, I realize. They’re throwing flowers for me. Hundreds of them. Thousands, maybe. A wind-born gusts up an incredible breeze of heavily scented petals—lotus, jasmine, water lily. The blossoms float around me in a fragrant whirlwind, bathing me in their perfume. It’s so beautiful and so kind it brings a tear to my eye.
“Come here, Sylvie,” says Ronan, gesturing to me.
Slowly, as if in a trance, I move towards him, overwhelmed with emotion. The other champions move aside to let me have the stage to myself.
I bow to Ronan, lowering my head to receive the laurel wreath.
He solemnly places it in my hair, and then he leans in, bringing his mouth to my ear. “You look good in a crown.”
My heart stops. Everything stops.
There is nothing here but us. Nothing here but him.
He says something after about Sai’s Champions, the parties that will follow, and the beginning of the Festival of Arts, but I don’t hear it. I don’t hear anything, not even the deafening noise that continues through his announcements.
It’s like the arena emptied when he spoke to me.
