Kalyan looks left and right for a second, placing himself. “Oh, right. I’ll be on the upper deck.” He squeezes my hand and leaves.
I turn to find Sonna watching me. “You guys really are the perfect couple. He’s powerful and you’re pretty,” she says.
“What?” I stare at her. “First, we aren’t a couple. And second, I’m powerful too. Shouldn’t that be why we’re good together? I mean, we aren’t even a couple, but if we were I would contribute more than just being pretty—”
“Jaya, I was talking about your personae. Smoke is alluring and sexy; White Knight is the powerful hero. Sims set it up like that, right? All that heteronormative crap.”
“Oh…yeah, sure. Smoke and White Knight work…for the audience.”
“Huh, so you do have a thing for him, then.”
“No, I, ah, didn’t understand what you meant when—”
Sonna laughs, a nice light laugh if it weren’t aimed at me. “That bad, huh? Well, I wish you luck. Cage casters have the worst egos.”
“I’ve got to get going.”
“Good luck out there, kid.” Her expression says the unspoken:you’ll need it.
“Thanks, you too.” It seems wrong to endorse Sonna’s pounding Navin, but for cage casters that constitutes bonding.
As I push past the second curtain the roar of the crowd hits me. Cheers, sweat, the sloppy drunkenness all vibrate through the floorboards. “Smoke, Smoke, Smoke.”
As I walk toward the ring, my memory flashes to Rakesh on the upper dock. His sticky, ugly words. His hands. His implication that I could not win, that I could not overpower him. The grip on my arm until Beckman had helped throw him off. Beckman had been there ever after. And then I had put on a mask, painted myself in an illusion of confidence until it seeped into my bones.
Beckman waits in the dome and I step inside to meet him.Why did I let this happen? Why did he have to be working for them?
“I don’t want to do this, Smoke,” Beckman groans as he bends his knees into a fighting position.
“Yeah, me either.” The dome latches above with a thunk. For the first time in the ring I’m not angry. Fear lines my stomach and squeezes. Confidence leaves me on each exhale. Before, I could always envision my opponent as one of the men who hurt Riya’s father. Now all I see is a father and my friend. Who tends to Beckman’s injuries after a fight? Surely not one of his daughters…
I’ve seen his family. His youngest girl is obsessed with pigtails and rainbow ribbons that bounce along her back. Most little girls like rainbow-colored material before their Touch or forte presents itself. Riya loved to wrap them around her wrists and pretend she could cast all nine colors with me. And I’m supposed to label a man like Beckman a traitor.
I’m thinking about Riya too much because suddenly I see her, envision her in the crowd. She scowls like I know she would if she ever saw me in the Underground, bleeding and in pain for the amusement of criminals. I stare harder and the faces blur.
“Are you ready for the showdown of champions?” the announcer roars. The crowd responds in kind.
A cloud of blue smoke wafts above Beckman like a wave.Focus, Adraa! Riya isn’t here.I conjure up my own magic and it swarms and lashes to look like fire.
The crowd cheers as blue and red streams blend into purple in the middle of the ring. The announcer drums up Sims’s marketing material. I catch a joke about my height and stature even though I’m tall for a witch. Another about this being the show of a lifetime, about Tsunami dousing my flames. And yes, it leans hard on sexual innuendo. I tune it all out, awaiting one word, one sound.
“Fight!” the announcer yells.
Beckman leaps forward, a long staff in hand, one of his trademarks. I duck under his swing. Blood, really? Bringing out the staff first thing? Well, best to fight purple magic with purple magic. I create my own staff. But I’m not great at staff fighting, never been trained much. So when the rod slams into my stomach I’m unable to breathe, but not surprised. As I drop to the ground, Beckman rallies the crowd, and they answer.
“What are you doing? Get up,” Beckman whispers as he turns back toward me.
“I don’t want—”I don’t know how to fight him.I don’t even know how to think past the confusion and betrayal.
“In here, you don’t get a say in what you want.” Beckman bends over me and the staff presses down on my throat. I kick out in alarm, casting a strength spell. But then I realize I don’t need it. To the audience it must look like he’s killing me, but the pressure isn’t full force. He leans in closer. “Fight me or both our covers are blown.”
“You…”
“I was hired to protect you and I will not harm my future rani, but you have to make this look good.”
For a second I let go of his staff and it presses on my throat. I feel like all the air inside me is gone. I feel like I’m going to pass out.
Doesn’t want to hurt his future…
