Page 54 of Deception

I meet Helene’s probing gaze, and I steel myself, not allowing any shred of fear to show on my face. My eyes narrow on them and harden. Every eye in the arena trained on the standoff. The stands grow so quiet I swear a pin dropping would sound like the clang of a sword.

Helene’s cold, calculating gaze appraises me, and I swear I can see a glimmer of pride in her eyes. Victor shoots me an icy glare, clearly upset that I thwarted their staged matches. Anastasia looks chagrined, her eyes fixed on the ground as I try to make eye contact with her. Agathon looks on gleefully, as though he took great joy in seeing my struggles, especially after I had beaten his son in the first round.

“You’ll have to try harder next time, Helene,” I call in a mocking sneer, crossing my arms over my chest in an unimpressed gesture.

Her eyes widen in shock at my claim, feigning ignorance. But I know the truth. She was at the helm of all these plans, and for that, I’ll make her pay.

“Liv!” Kali’s shocked cry sounds to my left, jerking me from my thoughts. I waste no time, knowing the scum bag will attempt something else. I don’t bother to turn, simply reaching a hand behind me. A wall of flame erupts at my back, and I hear the blond boy’s agonized scream behind me. My powers register the fire singeing his hand, nothing more. A thump sounds beside me, and I don’t need to stoop to make out the gleam of metal flashing in the blades of grass at my side.

I send my awareness along the line of fire, keeping it contained to a thin barrier between myself and the buffoon behind me.

I keep my gaze trained on Helene, quirking an eyebrow in challenge. A silent invitation to give me her best, because I can take it. I won’t continue to agonize over my powers. They’re a part of me. An extension of myself and my will. And I’ll need to use every shred of my strength and willpower to triumph over this bloodthirsty council.

I vaguely see Victor’s shocked and outraged face at the emergence of my fire. My lips lift in a smirk. Sorry, Victor, you’re not as special as you thought.

I bend to swipe the blade from the grass, turning over the slender hilt in my palm. The familiar ornate carving, sparking memories of my vision where it protruded from my stomach.

“You’ll need to do better than this.” I lift the blade, brandishing it for them to see. Light reflects off the smooth surface, casting beams of light over their faces.

“I don’t know what you mean, Olivia. Unfortunately, we can’t control every student,” she says indignantly, with a mocking look in her eyes.

I narrow my eyes on her, hefting the blade in my hand, turning it between my fingers. I let the power move through my body, focusing my strength to my arm. Pulling the blade back, I narrow my gaze on my target, my arm moving so quickly she barely has a chance for her eyes to widen in horror before the knife embeds itself into the stone wall behind her. The stone cracks under its force, sending a cascade of debris tumbling down to the floor. Fallen rocks crash against the stone floor of the box, along with the clatter of the blade. The ting of metal rings out across the field.

Students around the arena gasp in shock at the display. Their murmurs picking up in volume as they hurriedly speak to their friends in a hush.

She numbly reaches a hand up to her sleek black hair, smoothing over its length before holding a few pieces out. The strands are cut shorter than the others, evidence of just how close my aim was. She reaches down to her shoulder where a few of the fallen strands lay haphazardly strewn over the sleeve of her white gown. My lips tip up in a smug smile, my narrowed eyes promising that next time, it won’t just be a few strands of hair that my blade slices into.

I push power into the fire at my back, letting the blaze rise higher before extinguishing it with a puff of smoke. I stand for a moment, my gaze running over the stands, ensnaring each of the students with my look of determination. Letting the curling black smoke wrap around my body, coiling around my limbs like a long-lost friend.

With that, I turn on my heel, striding from the stadium. I don’t look anywhere other than the exit. The promise of respite waiting just steps away. I breathe a sigh of relief as I pass through the archway. The only view the audience has now is the back of my retreating form. I pull on the sea of power within me, still seemingly untouched despite my use of it earlier, and pull it around me. Dissipating mid-step back to the manor.

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