“But if you talked to her?—”
“Trust no one. Not Helen. Not Constance. Not any of them.”
The intensity in his tone makes my breath catch.
“I understand.”
He holds my gaze for a long moment, as if he’s searching for any hint of doubt. Then he nods and steps back.
“Good.” The tension in his shoulders eases, but not all the way. “We need to get to the Scorched Circles. Your duel is on Friday, and you need to be ready for the Fury Loop.”
“Right.” I nod, trying to shift my brain from emotional turmoil to training mode. “I’ve been thinking about how to handle Felix. He’s got better technical form than me, but if I can?—”
“It’s not going to be Felix.”
I stop mid-sentence. “What?”
“I’m having Kieran switch the bracket. You’ll fight Evie in the Fury Loop. Felix will be your opponent in the Siphon Sphere.”
The words take a moment to register.
“Why are you switching it?” I stare at him, hoping I misheard. “I’ve been preparing to fight Felix for over a week. The whole strategy was?—”
“The strategy changed.”
“When?”
“Tonight.” His eyes meet mine, and there’s no room for argument in them. “The Fury Loop amplifies emotions. Evie’s drowning in grief right now. She’ll be too overwhelmed to notice if your magic doesn’t look right.”
“So I’m supposed to beat her while she’s having a grief-induced breakdown?”
“You’re supposed to win without revealing what you are. If we put her against you in the Siphon Sphere, where your magic drains the longer you fight, she’ll notice every inconsistency. In the Fury Loop, she’ll be vulnerable.”
Vulnerable.
The word sits heavy in my chest.
“I can’t do this.” I wrap my arms around myself. “She’s grieving her brother, and you want me to exploit that to win a stupid tournament match?”
“I want you to survive,” he says. “Every match you win is another week of no one questioning your magic.”
“But Evie?—”
“Evie will lose. She’ll be upset. She’ll move on.” He catches my chin, forcing me to meet his eyes. “But if she notices your magic is wrong, she won’t move on from that.”
“But what if the Fury Loop amplifies my guilt about Oliver andIlose control?”
“That’s why we’re training.” His thumb brushes my jaw before he releases me. “And when Friday comes, you’re going to walk into that circle, win against Evie Thorne, and walk out without anyone suspecting a thing.”
His confidence should be reassuring. Instead, it makes me feel more trapped.
But what choice do I have? Because he’s right. Deep down, I know he’s right.
“Fine.” The word tastes like ash on my tongue. “Let’s go train.”
JADE
The next weekpasses in a blur of forced normalcy.
