Page 102 of The Art of Exiley

When it’s time for Rafe’s match—against a muscly Sophist who looks fully double his size—the cheers increase tenfold. It feels like the whole island has come to watch.

The Bio’s herald begins with a flourish. “Honorable Makers, it is my privilege and pleasure to introduce, for his very first tournament on a Genesis league, Prince Raphael Vanguard.”

The crowd’s cheers are deafening.

“… captain of the Blood Science league in Avant for two years, and to this day he remains undefeated!”

The green ribbon on his wrist stands out in sharp contrast to the amber of the rest of his armor. I hear the people near me whispering about how he’s never worn someone’s favor before, speculating about whose it is.

And then he turns to me and winks, and the speculation stops. And so does my heart as I perish from embarrassment.

But luckily the gong begins the match, and no one is looking at me anymore.

Rafe is quite simply… magnificent. Like, now Igetit. He plays the game like it’s an art, and he is a master.

He trounces his opponent in the first two rounds, but the second time the Sophist is downed, he has trouble getting back up. It’s clear at the start of their third round that the Sophist is injured and is in for a humiliating and painful defeat.

Except he’s not.

As the two approach the center, Rafe lifts his lance upward, and the two pass each other without impact.

The third round is a draw.

Rafe could have easily made that strike for a few more points to influence his rank—and I hear a few boos from members of his team who clearly wish he’d done so—but instead he let his opponent end with dignity and without the risk of further injury.

That was so… honorable, and the crowd agrees. They’re all on their feet celebrating and cheering, “Honor a Maker!”

It makes me proud to play the role of doting girlfriend and flurry over to congratulate him.

Instead of hugging me, he lifts me up and does a little spin. He should not be able to accomplish this so easily as I am not a light person, but I guess there’s more to those ridiculous muscles than how good they look because he sure makes me feel light. He also makes me feel like a real girlfriend, the way he’s smiling at me with the genuine joy of the game, as if I’m really the one he would want to celebrate this moment with.

It occurs to me that if we were really together, this is when he would kiss me.

Oh no.

I will simply not be able to survive if he does, and I have my own match to play in just a few minutes.

But I needn’t have worried. Rafe takes the winner’s sash he’s been awarded and ties it around my arm. He leans in close, and his hair, most of which has come loose from its bun, acts like a curtain, blocking the view of our faces. So no one else knows that when he leans in closer, all he actually does is whisper, “Your team doesn’t have a chance against us, Little Weed.”

I don’t miss the chorus ofawws and sighs from onlookers.

“How do you play so… elegantly?” I ask.

He explains as I walk with him toward his team’s tent. “The reason that Sires are so prized in the league is because of our ability to bounce back from injury and continue to play. When I tilt, I do so with the complete assurance that I can immediately heal any pain dealt my way. The elegance comes from the erasure of fear. Without fear of impact, I am in control of the tilt.”

Forcing reality to his will, as usual. What a prince.

Before he leaves me to go clean up and change, I say, “What you did, offering the draw—I thought it was really cool that you did the right thing.”

“I always do the right thing,” he scoffs. “You and I just have different ideas about what’s right.”

As the games progress, the Ciphers and Bios lead the rankings as expected. In the Alchemists’ first match, Sebastian wins against the Artisans, but then we lose a close match against the Sophists. By the time it’s my turn to compete, I don’t have to all-out win my match, but I’ll need to do well to keep us in the running. If I lose all my rounds or get downed too many times and fork over a bunch of points, then unless every remaining member of myteam plays a perfect game—which is rare if your name isn’t Rafe Vanguard—we’re at risk of being eliminated.

Considering I’m about as good with a lance as I am at choosing my crushes, this is a lot of pressure.

Once I’ve donned my spidersilk armor, I take deep breaths and shake out my body. My goal is to win at least one round and stay on my hover for at least one more.

“Honorable Makers.” I hear Zo, our herald, starting her spiel. “For her debut tournament…”

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