Page 108

The ball of liquid bursts into tiny droplets, each one catching the sunlight. The golden sparks rearrange themselves, spelling out a single word in mid-air.

Y-E-S

I laugh outright. Even Rafe’s perpetual scowl cracks, and a reluctant smile tugs at one corner of his mouth.

Agnar thrusts his hands up in defeat. “Fine. Enjoy your immature parlor tricks. Just remember this when we practice earth barriers later.” His volume lowers to a threatening whisper. “I make no promises about how soft the landing will be.”

The droplets swirl together, creating a tiny detailed figure who bows apologetically before dissolving and splashing back into Agnar’s flask.

Not a drop hits the table.

Agnar rolls his eyes. “Show off.” He shoots the flask a suspicious glance before taking a long drink, but his expression holds more affection than annoyance.

Sterling winks at me, causing my heart to perform that same stupid flippy thing he always evokes. My cheeks warm.

Queens shouldn’t blush over winks, but here we are.

The door opens. Glancing up from her book, Leesa slides into a seat closer to me while the remaining council members file inside. Bron and Dalya are deep in conversation, blond head pressed close to magenta. Fenton Wick follows, Nina trailing behind him and laughing over something he’s said.

Duchess Breann is the last one to arrive. She ushers in two servants with trays full of tea and wine.

Rafe clears his throat. “Your Majesty, Your Highness, members of the council. I have something unusual to report.” He pauses for effect. “Nothing. Nothing at all has happened.”

A confused silence settles over the room.

My ears thrum in the sudden quiet. “Meaning?”

“Meaning, no disasters. No emergencies. No weird magical occurrences.” Rafe ticks items off on his fingers. “No shifting geography. No temple attacks. No harpies luring sailors to their doom. No animated statues rampaging through villages. No hungry trees.” His expression appears bewildered. “Nothing. It’s been completely, utterly peaceful.”

The statement’s significance begins to sink in.

For months, we’ve catapulted from one catastrophe to another, the magical disturbances growing more frequent and dangerous. Lately, I’ve been double-checking with all the couriers, worrying we’ve missed reports of some awful new horror.

Nira toys with the silky sleeve of her stylish teal gown. “I have to admit that this sudden calm almost feels suspicious.”

“I know. I felt the same way. But it’s real. Nothing has happened.” Rafe’s shoulders drop about an inch. This is the most relaxed I’ve ever seen him. A corner of his mouth lifts.

Agnar gasps dramatically, clutching a hand to his chest. “Did you…just smile? During a meeting, no less? Clearly the apocalypse is nigh.”

The creases around Rafe’s eyes deepen. “Don’t ruin the moment.”

Sterling leans forward, resting his forearms on the table. “This is exactly what Rivlan promised. According to the covenant, once a champion is named, all parties are bound to settle their dispute through the Champions Match. The fighting stops. That’s why there’s no more,” he waves a hand, “weird stuff happening.”

“Well, that’s great.” Agnar’s voice drips with fake enthusiasm. “So the future of the entire world rests on how well you fight your opponent in a magical death match. Gee, I feel so much better now.”

My stomach clenches at the words “death match.” I’ve tried not to obsess over what the Champions Match will entail, but the reality of the looming event sits like a stone in my gut.

Sterling might die.

The thought sours the few sips of wine in my stomach.

Dalya drums her fingers on the table. “Any word on who you’ll be fighting?”

I set my cup down. “We’ve been compiling information on the most powerful warriors across the kingdoms.”

Breann tops off her cup of tea and holds up the pot to ask if anyone needs a refill with a grandmotherly smile on her face. “The logical opponent would be a strong magic user. Though with magic still mostly stripped away from all but us here in Tirene, the opponent’s patron god would probably need to restore their power.”

Fenton studies the map. “Tír Ríoga has some formidable warriors.”