At my coaxing, the bolt flies true.
Fifty points.
The audience roars. Spectators jump to their feet. Several of them rush onto the field, leaping up and down.
Luc just won the Tournament.
The excitement is tangible. Almost infectious. I open my mouth to join their cheers, but pain from my leg wound finally catches up to me.
Instead of clapping, I collapse.
Across the field, Luc’s parents hug him. Mathson has never looked prouder, and Yelina is so happy, she’s sobbing. Meanwhile, I’m in so much pain, I can’t even stand.
Footsteps approach from behind. I don’t need to turn to know who it is, but I do anyway. Kaidren pauses at my side. He looks torn. His hand twitches to help me up. Then he looks between me—a pathetic, injured mess abandoned on the ground—and Luc—the inept Praeceptor once more—and his expression hardens. “What’s wrong, Remira?” His voice is frosty. “Stand up. Take a bow.”
My eyes sting. I don’t regret winning. But I do wish there’d been a way to do it without hurting him. “I really am sorry.”
He gives a dark chuckle, a heart-wrenching combination of bitter and defeated. “Don’t be. You just got everything you ever wanted.” The cheers in the arena swell, and his nostrils flare. “Soak it in. I hope it’s worth it.”
Kaidren leaves me there, bleeding in the snow, as the rest of the world celebrates Luc’s victory.
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
GAME OF SMOKE AND MIRRORS
I rise early the morning of Luc’s coronation.
I don my uniform and a silver medallion, then take the earliest sky cart available down the mountain. Over the past weeks, I’ve learned a lot from Flynn, about self-defense and, most relevant now: about security.
I’ve learned how the gateposts around the mountain’s perimeter function. I know where each of them are, dotted around the boundary of the Republic. Which are the smallest, which have the most sentries, and which guards the most direct path up the mountain.
My hands shake as I shuffle toward the Sulen gatepost. It’s a towerlike structure built of smooth stone. The walls are doused with water each morning and night, encasing the stone in a layer of ice. It’s designed to make scaling the post a near impossibility.
A handful of sentries stand watch at each tower; the exact amount varies depending on how essential that particular post is. They’re equipped with spyglasses to keep watch for approaching invaders and large torches to be lit in emergencies. Atop each post is a mirror, angled on a hinge, and a bell. In the event of an attack, sentries ring the bell and angle the mirror to reflect torchlight toward the next nearest gatepost. Each post echoes the call for help until it reaches Widow’s Hall so they know to send reinforcements.
I arrive at the base of the tower and steel myself. A rope dangles from overhead. It’s too thin and brittle to climb, but its purpose is to gain the attention of the sentries above.
I tug the rope once, then pause. Then twice and pause. Then a fourth time. It alerts those above to my presence and signals that I know the code—they can trust me.
My heart hammers with nerves, but I feel safer hidden beneath my armor. They can’t read the terror in my expression.
A hollow tube drops down next. I take a breath and press my lips to the opening. “I come bearing orders from General Tarek Fain.” My voice is as firm as I can manage. It echoes through the tube, carrying my message to the soldiers above.
There’s a pause. It’s likely only a few moments, but my twisting anxiety makes it feel as though hours have passed by the time a ladder descends.
My gloved hands tremble as I climb. As soon as I reach the top of the platform, I’m surrounded. Multiple decurio hold out weapons, ready to strike if I’m a threat.
I hold up my arms in a show of innocence. It feels fake, but the reality is, even though I come bearing a lie, I’m not a threat to any of them. “I’m here on orders from General Tarek Fain,” I repeat.
They keep their weapons raised. It’s unnerving, but they haven’t killed me yet, so I keep speaking. “Today is the Praeceptor’s coronation. He is reorganizing sentries for the day. Half of you will be stationed at the East Ledgwik, the other half will join the South Kai gatepost.”
The aikkari standing nearest me frowns. “If we leave, then who will be stationed here?”
“More sentries are on their way as we speak.” I practiced this lie so many times in the mirror, it rolls easily off my tongue. “In the wake of the many scandals within the Honorate,General Fain was unsure who to trust. His strategy to ensure the safety and security of Virdei is to make the most direct pathway up the mountain into a fortress. No one, apart from the sentries assigned to this post, is to know who is stationed here today. General Fain is reordering the rotation in the final hour. Anyone who knew you were to be stationed here will no longer have any idea. It is the General’s hope that this will effectively prevent collusion and sabotage on this important day.” I reach around my neck. In an imitation of a motion General Fain made to Flynn weeks ago, I flash a silver necklace at them.
It’s as if that one motion ignites a fire within the gatepost. All at once, soldiers begin moving, following directives, preparing to pack up and leave.
There are a few grumbles, but the medallion was enough for them to believe I’ve given them orders from the General. I stand near the ladder and watch as they gather up gloves, masks, and a few weapons before climbing out of the post.
