“But no matter, no matter. Outsiders can’t be expected to know all the rules, can they? Normally, members of the Circle themselves would fight, or choose champions from their armies, but your headmaster Finn Foster has rightly pointed out that we’re on school grounds and must abide by the covenant of the school. Therefore, instead of bringing in generals, or sadly watch Grace fall quickly were one of the Circle to enter the Trial, we have agreed to choose our champions from the student body.” Cheers go up in the arena as my opponents wave at the stands.
“And since these are but mere students, the magical safeguards against mortal injury have also been instituted—for everyone except Grace, of course.” His smile stretches wide and reminds me of an alligator as he delivers this bit of good news.
He thinks by not being able to kill an opponent he’s made me weaker—because that’s how someone like him would think. But actually, he’s done me a huge favor. Now that I don’t have to worry about killing anyone, I can come full force with every ounce of power I have and not worry about doing something horrible. I offer him a smile even slyer than his own, not even trying to hide the satisfaction crinkling my eyes as Cyrus falters at my reaction.
But he quickly recovers and continues. “In the interest of being as fair as possible”—I give a snort-laugh that would make Hudson proud—“and to ensure that there is no outside interference on either side, Imogen and Linden have shielded the arena.
“The players inside will be able to hear you cheering for them, but none of your powers can get through to them, which guarantees this is a totally fair Trial—for both sides. Rest assured, no one will be allowed to cheat their way onto the Circle.”
He pauses and lets that sink in, holding my gaze for a reaction. But again, he thinks he’s limiting my chances when he’s only further emboldened me now that I don’t need to worry his team will cheat. Uncle Finn is the only person left here to cheer for me, and he’s certainly not about to help me cheat, so this is no handicap.
I give him, and the whole stadium, a wide smile that has his gaze narrowing and his jaw clenching. But the show must go on, so he forces a condescending smile as he adds, “And no one on the opposing team will be able to get extra help to defeat our little gargoyle, either.”
As I stand here, listening to him go on about how magnanimous he is to organize today—like it’s not a part of the Circle’s fucking charter—I realize for the first time why Hudson originally wanted me to challenge them. Not because he doesn’t believe in me. But because he knows there’s no way his father is going to give me, or anyone else, a fair chance—all his words to the contrary.
My heart beats wildly at the thought. I mean, I knew walking in here that I might not walk out again. But recognizing just how stacked against me this damn Trial is infuriates me. And only makes me more determined to survive. I just hope I have enough cunning and physical strength left to back up that determination.
“And finally,” Cyrus says, the words drawing my attention because it sounds like he is finally tired of hearing his own voice, “to prove the Circle’s impartiality regarding the outcome of this test, Grace will start with the ball, giving her a powerful advantage here at the beginning of the Trial.”
He waits for Nuri to hold up the ball—which she does with an approving wink to me that seems both sweet and completely out of place in this ever-darkening arena—then turns back to the crowd.
Cyrus lifts his arms in a wide arc that sweeps through the air as he orders, “Let the Trial begin!”
113
A Match Played
in Hell
I wasn’t expecting to have the ball first—I didn’t think Cyrus would give me anything that even resembles an advantage—and as Nuri walks to the center square with it, I start to panic a little because I’m not sure what to do. Jaxon and I would have just continually passed it back and forth (well, unless he’d managed to fade all the way to the end and win immediately like he’d apparently planned), but now that it’s just me, that strategy is worthless.
Plus, I figured with two of them jumping for the ball at tip-off, I wouldn’t have a chance. So I’d been hoping to let them do some of the initial work as I got to see what a few of the portals might do this time.
Now, though…now I have about fifteen seconds before that ball is in my hands and thirty seconds after that to get rid of it before I start losing pieces of my stone to its out-of-control vibration. Which, now that I think about it, might be exactly what Cyrus had planned—no advantage here after all.
As the fifteen seconds tick by between one long breath and the next, a dozen strategies enter my mind, and I discard them all. I briefly consider using Hudson’s gift of persuasion right away—just end this Trial early and walk the ball in. But sadly, the other team is too spread out. I’m not sure how much time I’ll have once I tap into his power, but surely not long enough to chase them all down and persuade each to take a nap instead of trying to kill me. I can’t even bring myself to consider turning everyone to dust—even if I know the magic of mortal injury will save them. Plus, Hudson’s worked so hard to keep that particular gift a secret, convince Cyrus it’s dormant, and it’s not my right to expose it now.
Other strategies come and go as well. All equally bad. And then it’s too late, because the whistle is blowing, and Nuri is throwing the comet straight at me.
I catch it and start to run—there’s not much else for me to do at the moment—then realize, not for the first time, that while my gargoyle form does a whole lot for me, one thing it doesn’t do is give me speed and maneuverability. So I switch to human on the fly, and just as Cole and Marc close in on me, teeth bared in their werewolf forms, I dive into a portal.
I’m prepared for the stretching feeling, tell myself to just breathe through it. But this portal doesn’t feel like that at all. Instead of stretching me out, it feels like I’m being poked with hundreds of thousands of pins all over my body at the same time. Each individual pin doesn’t hurt much, but when put altogether, it’s excruciating.
Even worse, the ball is getting warmer and warmer in my hands and this portal seems to be taking forever.
I tell myself it’s not any longer than the other ones, that I won’t go over the thirty seconds, which is the longest I’ve ever been able to hold the comet, but it’s hard to think through the pain of being jabbed a million different times.
Then again, the pain is nothing compared to losing Jaxon and losing my parents, nothing compared to the guilt I feel over Xavier’s death or not believing Hudson sooner about his father.
It’s nothing, I remind myself, even as every inch of my skin stings. Nothing that matters and nothing that I can’t handle. I just need to hold on and breathe.