Page 7 of Prowess Trials
“Actually, we do know something.” Arisha moves closer to me so only I can hear her, her freckled cheeks bunched in thought—I have to use my foot to get Shade’s hind end to swing out wide enough to let her in. “Coal got Zake to admit that this Owalin and his Night Guard minions have been messing with the magical wards, which isn’t really new information, but that proves they havesomeonewho knows how to manipulate them. If we find who ever that is—”
“Then maybe thissomeonemight also have insight into lifting River’s and Shade’s veils.” I rub my face. “Or at least information on how to patch up the magical leak we’d come here to patch.”
“Information that he’ll no doubt be more than happy to share,” Arisha says with a crestfallen wince. “I imagine Coal will need to…you know.”
I squeeze her leg. “We’ll deal with interrogation when we have someone to interrogate,” I say, right as another round of applause draws my attention back to the stage. With the last of the ten parading teams clearing the sands, a set of men dressed in black carry a horizontal bar into the middle of the arena while Tye—whose exhibition round is to officially open the trials—dunks his hands into a bucket of chalk. As he slaps his hands together, working the chalk deep into his callused creases, bits of powder rise into the air like snowflakes, settling on his muscular thighs.
The music stops. Tye’s muscles bunch in preparation for the run. In the hanging silence, the creaking of benches and calls of overhead birds are a distant irrelevance.
Caw caw.
A gong sounds.
Tye leaps forward, his powerful legs propelling his body with a feline grace. Each step a practiced, measured precision, the male hits his launch point with ease and leaps into the air. Grabbing the high bar smoothly, Tye’s taut body swings around it in a blur of color and muscle. Beautiful. Powerful. Breath-stopping.
Reaching the zenith of his spin, Tye releases the bar and flies like a pike into the air, twisting in defiance of gravity and the stars themselves before catching the bar again as if nothing of great consequence just happened.
Applause rages through the stands—and not a few disgruntled mutters from the other teams. But even they can’t help staring in jealous admiration. Tye deserves this light gathering around him, I realize. Has earned this moment over and over for centuries, despite having it ripped from him by those in power. If this one good thing comes from our voyage to the mortal world, perhaps that’s worth it.
On the bar, Tye picks up speed and flies into the air again, his body tucking into a tight ball. Streams of silk lace he must have hidden in his uniform release from their bonds and trail the male through the air. Red and gold and blue, all flapping like standards in the wind, thewhoosh whoosh whooshof cloth cutting air loud in the breath-held silence of the arena.
Though I know it’s impossible from several benches away, I’m sure I can smell Tye’s pine-and-citrus scent, the exhilaration pulsating from him an intoxicating wine that makes my core blaze. The magic inside me rouses, bubbling and reaching to freedom, the cords of power clamoring jealously for their turn beneath the sun’s rays.
I blink over the flood of sensation, the sounds around me suddenly distant, unable to compete with the inferno inside my own body. The bench beneath me is hard, the wood slightly uneven, the silk of my scarlet cool against my skin except for where the sun has heated the fabric. The people around me stink of rose perfume mixed with unfamiliar spices.
Shade whines, the lupine call forcing itself into my swimming consciousness. That and the call of strange birds flocking around us. More than before.
Caw caw.
The crowd suddenly gasps, then breaks into shouts of delight and applause.
“Lera. Lera!” Arisha grabs my arm hard enough to hurt, while around us, the crowd grows rabid with excitement, many on their feet, the children jumping for a better view.”Look.”
Forcing my gaze back to Tye, I feel my eyes widen. The colorful silk ribbons flowing around him are now alight with flame. As the male spins faster and faster still, the fiery rings follow in his wake like blazing hoops, which the crowd thinks are all part of the show.
Except I know they aren’t. And if Tye has access to—
I gasp, the shackles holding my magic suddenly springing open almost painfully, my body flooding with what’s been gathering just beneath the surface. My heart races, the small breeze suddenly too hot, my dress too constricting. “He did it.” I snatch Arisha’s wrist, my words coming in pants over the effort of keeping the sudden tsunami of magic at bay. “Owalin released the magic’s shackles.”
“No.” Arisha shakes her head violently. “No, it’s too early. Zake told Coal it wouldn’t be until the end and it’s only—”
“An inconvenient change of plans, then.” I force my breathing to tamp down. “I feel it, Arisha. And that’s not part of Tye’s show either.”
“Neither is that, is it?”
The note of panic in Arisha’s voice has me on my feet before I see where she’s pointing, my eyes just catching a glint of metal in Han’s hands. His pale gaze trained on the circles of fire following Tye, the Prowess coach’s handsome face is set with grim realization. The mortals might imagine the flame a part of the show, but he has worked out the truth—and is meeting it with murder.
He lets the knife slip fully into his palm, confident that no one will notice it with all eyes on his star athlete.
“Tye!’ I yell with all my might as I surge forward, shoving my way down to the arena through the two rows of spectators before me. “Tye, look out!” I shout again, stepping on royal feet and fingers with equal disregard. “Tye!”
My words drown beneath the crowd’s cheers and the sudden synchronized call of birds settling one by one on the flagpoles around the arena. Crows. Vultures. A pair of hawks.
I’m still five paces away when Tye releases the bar, offering a final airborne twist as he marks his landing.
Han draws back his throwing blade, the metal giving a final wink in the sunlight as he launches it at my mate.
My heart stops, my stomach clenching in horror. With no more time, I throw myself forward, rushing to get between a grinning triumphant Tye and the weapon flying toward his heart. Too far. I’m still too far, no matter how my flesh stretches forward. But I still try. Still press forward as if I can conquer time and distance and—and suddenly, I can.
