Page 156 of A Game of Veils

Iyelp and fling my arm forward, but there’s no catching Fausta now. She plummets out of view with a warble of her billowing gown.

For a fleeting moment, there’s nothing but the distant din of the watching court. Then the meaty crack of flesh and bone shattering dispels any hope I might have that my rival might survive the fall.

I close my eyes, and all I can see is her body slamming into the edge of the wall right beneath us.

My stomach lurches, sending bile up my throat. The wind wrenches at my dress.

The shouts of our audience keep drifting up, even more avid than before.

I’m still not sure I won’t vomit, but I force myself to heave my other leg over the peak. To fumble down the far side of the precipice, sliding from foothold to foothold.

I’m vaguely aware of Leonette descending below me: the rasps of her inhalations, the rustle of her clothes.

We’re the only ones left. I have to catch up with her—I have to pass her.

Why?

The question resounds through my queasy daze so forcefully I almost lose my grip on the knobs I’m clutching.

I keep scrambling downward, flailing out with my feet for the next bit of solid ground, but it’s as if my body is moving of its own accord. My mind is spiraling away.

Why am I putting myself through all this torture? To win a lifetime of more torment at Marclinus’s side?

You have to win, Rochelle said to me. But my friend will still be dead either way. Reaching the finish line won’t resurrect her.

So many women died so that I could still be here, banging my elbows and battering my knees while I clamber across an obstacle course designed for misery. Winning means seeing Leonette—a lady who’s never done anything remotely spiteful to me, who’s handled herself with absolute dignity through the entire competition—slaughtered in my place.

Can I really say I deserve to live more than she does?

Can I really say that I want to live more than I want to never have to look into Marclinus’s maliciously arrogant face again?

Maybe that’s the choice Elox indicated I have. I can escape, if only with my demise.

Gods smite me if that option doesn’t feel awfully appealing in this moment.

Still, I keep moving. I keep stretching one foot beyond the other.

I have to stay in this race. I can’t give up. I made so many promises and plans…

I’m just not sure I’ll be disappointed if I watch Leonette dash to the finish line ahead of me.

The breeze continues lapping at my dress and hair as I skid on down the slope. I don’t realize how close I’ve gotten to the bottom until my feet hit proper ground.

I spin around, reeling from fatigue and the horror welling up inside me, and see Leonette sprinting to the edge of the river.

I lope after her, my breath raw in my throat. A glance across the rippling greenish-gray water shows it’s been divided into four paths, with wooden floats and billows of inflated cloth leading the way across them.

Nobles swarm the opposite bank, where it looks like they were ferried by the boats now docked alongside them. I can’t help briefly searching for any of my princes among the crowd.

No. They’re gone too. I gave them so much and still?—

I yank my attention back to the course, clenching my jaw against a wobble.

Each of the paths looks different, but no features stand out as obviously better or worse. I hurry closer for a better look. Leonette is stalking along the bank, studying each of them in turn.

My gaze sweeps over the buoys again—and a voice, soft but clear, rings through my mind.

“Rell. Don’t react, just listen.”

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