Mine to Spell (Mine #2) (31 page)

“
Just Cynthia.” I maintain my cool demeanor, but all this attention is making me itchy. “Are we starting now or do I need to come back later?”

My wiry opponent says, “Can she do this?”

“I don’t know,” the judge responses.

“
It’s not hard,” I say. “I have the status of a warlock. I can style my hair and clothes as I please.”

“
I don’t think she can do this,” my opponent continues as if I didn’t say anything.

The judge ignores me just as much. At least they aren’t laughing?

“I don’t know. We’ll have to check the rule book.”

“
There’s a rule book?”

Idiots. They know less about what’s going on than I do, and it’s my first experience out in a warlock’s world. I yawn and spell my nails different colors and patterns while they putter around, using as little energy as I can while showing proof of why I belong. The first flash of color has them eying me like an Envadi, but if they can ignore me, I can ignore them right back. Or at least pretend to as I take my time coloring each nail.

Through my nonchalance, I keep track of every move they make. The nonchalance gets harder to fake when another warlock joins us, not the mediator of this area. Oh, no that would be so much the more preferable.

“
Chancellor Ryan,” the judge says. “We’re honored you’d attend to this issue yourself.”

Not him. This can’t be a good sign. I stop spelling my nails, leaving the pinky on my right hand uncolored, but continue to examine them like I don’t care what these men are doing.

“What seems to be the issue?”

“
Well, this…” The judge screws up his face and points to me. “…this
warlock
is dressed as well, a warlock. And her hair and face paint are most unacceptable.”

The Chancellor doesn’t even look at me as he lets disdain coat each of his words. “This contestant is sadly within regulation. I’m afraid there’s nothing I can do about it at present. We are working on changing things so this will not be an issue in the future.”

What is that supposed to mean? It can’t be good. But at least it sounds like, for now at least, I’m going to be able to compete in my duel, which is what I want. Except the Chancellor leans over to my opponent and whispers something in his ear before giving me a smug glance.

I brush a finger across Lukas’s ring. Inside, I’m quivering with dread, but I give him the same cold smile I’ve used for everyone else this morning. It does the trick of morphing his smug features into a scowl.

“Go ahead and begin, Judge Manes,” the Chancellor says.

The judge opens his mouth as if to protest more, but the Chancellor’s jaw tightens, making the judge instead wave at the glowing ring. “Enter.”

I step into the circle the same time as my opponent and immediately throw a shield up. It’s a good instinct because a spell crashes into it almost immediately. Nothing is holding them back from taking me down. Nothing except me.

I fling a sharp spell, silver with razor edges of gold. He throws an aqua shield up, but not fast enough. The golden edge of light slices into the side of his abdomen as I lift my hand to send another from up high. While it’s in the air, I spread my hands out wide from my sides and shoot two more at him. The one from above whips across his cheek and one of the side spells slices his arm before he strengthens his shield, the last one crashing into it, breaking into dust-like pieces before dissipating.

An icy blue ball erupts from him, bigger than me. I dive to the ground, but instead of just getting out of the way, I shoot an icy spell back at him, angled from the ground. It slams against his thigh, sinking into him. He rocks onto one foot with a hiss, but it doesn’t stop. A black light bounds out of him, heading straight for my vulnerable spot on the ground.

No time to move. A blaze of power storms out of me as I think on it transforming into a wall, thick and unmovable. Its transparent iron color holds as the black splats against it, saving me from whatever fate it held.

I flick out a dozen mini arrows, nothing hard to block, but enough to give me time. A few nick his arm as I bounce to my feet. I send two arrows, this time big—both in size and punch—but he had the same thought, sending three blue darts after me. I block the first two, but the third hits my shoulder with an icy stab.

Instinctively, I throw up a shield, giving me a moment to recover only to discover I jumped up much too close to him. If I advanced just a bit, I could reach out and touch him. He seems to realize this, too. As I throw the first spell at him that comes to mind, I take a step back. Only he steps forward as well, his shield spell in place, effectively blocking my useless silencing spell.

Before I can out pace him, his fist crushes my stomach. Pain and confusion over the illegal move pollute my thoughts. Something rips across my chest, a brass-colored spell flickering out of sight. I throw my magic at him, ineffective for points, but giving me a moment to step back, almost to the ring line.

Cheater and the judge hasn’t called him on it. No surprise, but I can’t hold anything back. I fling spell after spell at him, blocking any that come my way except for one that nicks my right hand. Ignoring the pain, I keep flinging my magic until the judge calls out, “Time.”

I look to him, waiting to have him call my opponent out. Instead, he mumbles, “Stephen’s daughter is the winner.”

“
It’s Cynthia.” My voice is as loud as the frustration boiling inside me. I round on my opponent, “Cheat much?”

He just sneers and shoves his way past me. At least I won this duel.

***

I wander on the edge of the field, wishing it was my turn for the next duel of the day. It’s still a long ways off, though. The field is a bit squishy beneath my feet, the rain-soaked grass fresh from last night. Someone has erected a giant shield over the fields, protecting everyone from further downpour. Rather, several someones I’d imagine. It’s massive enough to cover everything.

As I roam, I study it, trying to decide how much power it would take to make the pale blue protection. Then something odd catches my eye. Everyone seems to be staring in one direction. I follow their gazes and can’t but help stare with them.

Serena is alone in her box, dark locks flowing forbiddingly to her waist.

My breath catches. Will she be punished for this even though she’s free? Will someone find a way to punish her? Why did she do this? It’s hard to notice anything else about her except her dark hair, sharply contrasted by her pale complexion. I’ve seen her hair down before. I used to help her with it all the time. But to see it flowing free like this in public?

The crowd begins to talk, their noise growing by the second. What did she think she was doing, coming out here like this? It’s one thing for me to cut my hair when I’m fighting in a duel, but leaving hers down? Somehow, it seems like a stronger statement than me cutting my hair. Like it’s something the general public isn’t meant to see.

I want to talk to her, but I don’t want to make things worse by going over there. Who am I kidding? Things are already bad for us. How is talking to her going to make it any worse? What are they going to do? Try to kill us even more? Doubtful that’s even possible.

I hurry to her box, bringing memories of last year, and march up the stairs. The guards Zade set up for her let me pass without question. When she sees me, she doesn’t look surprised, but calmly sits in her chair, a warlock’s chair of comfort, and motions for me to take the one next to her.

I don’t sit. “Why is your hair down?”

“I—I…”

Her fingers worry her skirt. I reach over, take her hand, and soften the shock from my voice. “It’s all right. It’s just me.”

But her eyes drift to those surrounding us. We are right next to the Grand Chancellor’s box.

“
I can cast Zade’s spell so they can’t hear us if you’d like. We could lower the curtains so they can’t even see me do it.”

She straightens her back. “No. We don’t need to hide anymore. You taught me that.”

I squeeze her hand before letting it go. “Then will you tell me what’s going on?”

“
I wanted to support you, but I couldn’t bring myself to cut it. I’m sorry. It would have made more of a point if I could, but I like my long hair.”

“
So you wanted to cut it, but didn’t want to lose it, so you let it down instead?”

She worries her skirt again. “I’m sorry I didn’t do more.”

I laugh, all too aware of the many eyes on us, yet still unable to help myself. For a moment, she looks startled, but then she relaxes.

“
You might not have cut your hair,” I say. “But you made your statement nevertheless. Maybe even more of one than if you had cut your hair.”

“
I hope it leads to good things and not trouble.”

“
Coming here to talk to you, I realized something. We’re already in trouble, and nothing is going to change that. Whatever we do from this point on, sure, it might make things even harder, but it can’t change our situation very much. They already want to kill us, and they probably want to make a public spectacle out of it since what I’ve done is proof of what women can do. It’s not as if they could kill us twice.”

“
I suppose this year it’s your turn to be the morbid one.”

“
Is that why Bethany isn't with you?”

“
Things started getting a bit rowdy for a while, and I tried to send her home. But she's starting to take more after you and insisted on staying.” As Serena continues, I can't help but wonder if that's a good thing or a bad one. “She’s doing a good job of keeping a low profile, at least.”

“
A low profile where?”

“
Headed toward the food, but that was a while ago. She's probably on her way back. And don't look at me like that. She has a guard with her. She’ll be fine.”

Maybe if things hadn't been so hostile toward me this week, I'd believe that as much as Serena's trying to convince us both. “
I’m going to see if I can find her. Would you like to join me?”

She hesitates, glancing around at the boxes surrounding us. “No. I think I need to be here. But please tell her to keep safe.”

“I will.” I stand. “And thank you for everything.”

Her smile is stiff as her eyes glance at the others watching us, but her voice genuine. “You’re welcome.”

“There’s something I want to show you tonight.” If I’m still alive.

She lifts a brow but doesn’t question me. “I’ll be there.”

I give her a tight smile, unable to say what I really want, that I’ll be there too.

***

It takes almost twenty minutes of searching and I still haven't found her. But there is a man, a servant I think, who looks vaguely familiar coming my way. I want to dodge him, but this isn't my past life anymore. Besides, Chadwick is here.

“
Excuse me,” the man says, and finally I realize who he is. The scar on his right temple reminds me, sending a wave of fear through me though I try to hide it. “You probably don't remember me. I serve Master Edward. I was there when he freed you.”

My words can't get past my closing throat. Does this mean Edward finally told someone how I forced him to free me? It's all going to come to an end. My magic bounces restlessly inside me but I keep it wrapped tight. At least I have shown my magic in public before it came down to this.

“I just wanted to let you know.” He steps closer, lowering his voice. “Master Edward isn't here. He hasn't left the house since he freed you. It's rare for him to even leave his rooms. You're safe from him.”

Despite trying to keep my emotions hidden, a sigh of relief escapes me. “Thank you for letting me know.”

“It's the least I could do. You've given many of us hope.” He hurries off before I can say another word to him.

Doesn't matter. I'm too stunned to say anything. Given many of who hope? Edward's servants? His household? Someone else? That's not the most shocking part of all though. It's that a man was the one to tell me. I've give a Chardonian warlock hope.

I continue my search for Bethany in sort of a haze. The fog in my mind finally dissipates when I finally find her hidden in some corner, her face glowing as a warlock is leaving. I can’t tell who it is from the back, but something about him seems familiar.

“
You’ve done very well,” Bethany says the moment she sees me.

I cast Zade’s spell to prevent eavesdropping, not trusting that whatever warlock is leaving or someone else, is out of hearing distance.

“Who was that?”

She gives a little half grin and shakes her head.

“What?”

“
You’re so like mother sometimes.”

I’m appalled to think I could ever be compared to my mother, whom I love, but does so many things I wish I could change. But then I realize what I’m doing, my hands fisted on my hips, using mother’s scolding voice. Immediately, I drop my hands and lower my tone.