Mine to Spell (Mine #2) (38 page)

“
Maybe, but it doesn’t mean you have to give up.”

“
What else am I supposed to do? I’ll go out there and fight, certainly, but there’s no way to win.”

“
Not if you think like that, there isn’t.” He reaches a hand down to help me up. “You made it this far when many didn’t think you could. Now you just need to believe in yourself to make it through the last step. Many hope you do.”

I take his hand and stand. How to win the impossible, I’m not sure. If no one else before me was able to defeat the Grand Chancellor's choice for a winner, why should I be any different?

I am different, though. I am a woman. I am a warlock. I am going to win. And if not, if I die, I won't go without flair.

Giving Lukas’s hand a squeeze, I let go. He nods at me like he knows just what I’m thinking. I don’t leave it at that. If I’m going to win or die today, I’m going to do it with the memory of him. I wrap myself around him and kiss him with everything I have. All my longing and hope. All my struggle and sorrow.

He responds in kind, his mouth moving with mine, his hands gripping me tighter, holding me close and fierce. Everything has been worth it, but I only wish there was time for us to simply be like this before my probable end. He tastes spicy, just like the first time we kissed. The intensity of the kiss gives way to something sweet and tender. Tender, yet filled with heart-broken passion. Something that brings tears to my eyes that I don’t blink away. Something I hope he will remember, even if I’m no longer with him.

When our lips brush apart, he holds me close for another moment, places a peck on my forehead, and lets me go.

With my lips aching, I turn to the Bethany and Serena.

“
I need to go.” I motion to the crowd that’s just out of sight. “They need me to.” I hug her, tight and fierce. “Everything will be fine. If not—”

“
It will be,” Bethany says.

“
If not,” I persist, “Serena and Zade will take care of things.”

Serena’s face is tight as she nods.

Chadwick says, “You’re being called.”

And indeed, my name sounds close by, around the stands, just out of sight. I wish there was more time, time for more good-byes if nothing else. I turn to Lukas “I—”

He puts a finger on my lips, stopping me. “Tell me after your duel.”

“
But—”

“
After.”

He presses a final, swift kiss to my lips, and then twirls me around. It doesn’t matter that there may not be an after. It only matters that my memory will live on long after I am gone. Bethany has her back to me. I give her another quick hug. “Tell all the girls I love them.”

She nods, her lips tight, her eyes blinking back tears.

And I’m off, striding to the field that will either bring a new freedom or my death.

Chapter Forty-Six

The others hurry to their box while I stride around it and onto the field. It’s dim with the storm overhead, despite the lit torches surrounding the field. The judge and the mediator stand by the glowing ring, Nathaniel is not yet in sight, so I wait, close enough they can’t say I’m not here, but far enough that I will still need to walk there when Nathaniel does.

The box next to the Grand Chancellor’s—Serena’s box—is ethereal. Bethany, Serena, Waverly, and Katherine stand regally side-by-side. My short locks rustle in the small breeze that’s managed to break through the spell. If the breeze is starting to break through, how long until the rain does as well? Hopefully not until after the tournament ends. By then, it probably won’t matter to me anyway. It’s hard enough dueling without adding bad weather.

The Grand Chancellor rises. I have an overwhelming urge to punch a spell at him. Thrust the pain at him that he’s put an entire country full of women through. Course it wouldn’t do a bit of good. If someone else didn’t stop it before it got to him, he’d be sure to, and then I’d be killed as an outlaw instead of dying in the final duel of the tournament.

Nathaniel appears across the field from me. I stride onto the field as he does. Thunder rumbles in the distance as we meet in the middle, both stopping on our own sides of the dueling ring. The torches go dim, leaving them the only faint light. My ribs feel as if they’re about to break from the frantic pounding of my heart. The stands are quiet. I grip my hands together, Lukas’s ring reminding me both of him and the strength I need to have.

“
Enter,” the Grand Chancellor calls out.

Though my magic bounces, as much as is left, my skin is icy. Nathaniel is different. He’s changed. No longer the quiet, unassuming man who just happens to be the son of the Grand Chancellor. His face, bland as life without magic, except for his focus on me making his eyes the only part of his face with expression. Eyes that are strong and harsh as if he wants to kill me. So much for being honored to duel against me. My stomach becomes a pit of dread, filled with hexes. This is the face of my death.

We step into the circle at the same time, flashing it vivid orange as we cross. His spells are immediate and with such intensity, they crack every shield I shove at them. Both spells dissipate, but with my magic already so depleted, it won’t last long.

I continue throwing up shields as a slew of colors fly at me, trying to think of a way to draw this out, to show everyone that I am fighting for everything, that I have this power, and I’m willing to die to show it. A bit of wind tousles my hair. I glance up. That’s something he won’t expect. Hopefully something he’s not prepared for.

He zaps another spell at me. I fling two block shields to replace the ones he’s pummeled through, and then zap a spell at the dome above us, not strong, but pointed. Just a spot of icy cold focused exactly on the dome above our dueling ring. A resounding crack echoes through the field, quickly followed by howling wind. Within a second I’m soaked, the ground quickly growing slick with mud.

I crouch down, making myself as small of a target as possible, the mud sloshing as Nathaniel slips to the side. But it doesn’t stop the attack. Two violet shocks of light stream close but pass over my head.

Thinking of the sunniest day I can remember, I give my eyes a quick shield of darkness and flash pure light at him. The brightness still makes me squint, even with the graying shield. He grunts and screws his eyes shut against the light. Leaving the light spell blinding, I dart a dozen tiny bits of pure magic straight at his torso. Points. Even if I die, I will be remembered as having the most points, the almost winner.

Only three touch him before a thick emerald light encompasses him, creating a sort of full-body shield. Once the shield is in place, I keep my magic centered in me, ready to shield as I scan for cracks in his.

Something puffs from his hands, the deepest black, though my gray eye shield is still up. It puffs bigger and bigger, quickly taking over the area and surrounding my light spell. I rip the shield covering my eyes away just as there’s a yank on my magic. He’s attacking my spell.

I focus on releasing it, letting it dissipate, but as soon as I do, the puff of black whirls toward me. There’s no room to move. I'm already crouched as low as I can, and the ring is just behind me. It creeps closer and closer, snaking past my usual shield. I crouch lower, trying not to let panic overwhelm my senses.

His hands stretch toward me, pushing the cloud spell on. That’s it! His hands. Gathering the bits of magic left inside me, I shove it out at his hands, twisting them back so they point at his chest just as the cloud wisps against my forehead. The center of my forehead goes numb, but the spell fails with his hands now pointed back.

He howls, neck arching back as he struggles against my spell. I sway to my feet, keeping my spell at full force, mud and rain soaking through me, filling the air with their scents. Almost over now. Just have to last a little longer.

Spells fly from him, blood-red and sooty-black. They flick backward toward the crowd, smashing against the protective shield.

His nostrils flare, teeth bared toward me. “Must. Kill. Her.”

Before I think on it, I step back, hands shaking, but the spell holding steady. Then I realize I’m right against the line. Any farther and the ring will change colors, forcing me out. I have to move closer, and give myself some leeway.

Nathaniel continues struggling against my spell, yanking on the last of my energy, growling and snarling like a mad man, but not moving any closer. Taking a ragged breath, I force myself to take a single step forward.

Another howl screeches from him, scraping across my ears. I hold the last of my magic steady, but it’s not going to be enough. Between my weakening state, and his fighting against it, he’s going to break free.

A brunt orange spell rips from him, breaking through the last of my magic. I totter, but stay standing firm as my magic is depleted, his hands free to do their damage. There’s no gathering glee in him like other warlocks would have, just a hex, black and dark silver with flickers of crimson. It slams against my leg, collapsing me to the ground. It’s as if my leg is no longer there, even if I can still see it.

Another comes hurtling at me. Twenty seconds to go, but it’s too long. I’ll be dead.

Desperate, I scream, “Stop!”

And he does.

Chapter Forty-Seven

The moment passes and then another. Did he really just listen to me? Not that I didn’t want him to, but why would he? His expression is bland, nothing of the snarling man from moments ago. I stand and wipe the mud from my face.

“
What’s going on?” the Grand Chancellor yells. “Keep fighting.” Though the raging face doesn’t return, Nathaniel zaps a crimson hex. I throw myself in the mud, it squishing beneath me as the light flashes overhead, just missing me. I turn my face toward him and yell again, “No, Nathaniel, stop.”

Again he listens, though I can’t fathom why or what’s going on. Except, wait. Maybe there is something. Something that makes you lose control of yourself and have to listen to others around you.

Swiftly, I whirl toward the crowd and yell before the Grand Chancellor can speak again, “Someone has tampered Nathaniel. He isn’t under his own control. He does whatever anyone says. Whoever did it…  is forcing him to fight me to the death and not in line with the tournament rules.”

The crowd is against me enough without my pointing out that the Grand Chancellor set this all up.

“Absurd,” the Grand Chancellor calls out.

But already the crowed is doubting. Their chatter is growing, hopefully wondering if my words could be true. Even though I am just a woman, they can tell something is wrong. That Nathaniel has been stopping and starting at my and the Grand Chancellor’s words.

I yell as loudly as I can from my muddy spot on the ground, “It’s easy enough to figure out. Have several people tell him to do something simple and harmless, but something he wouldn’t do on his own.”

“
We aren’t going through such a charade,” the Grand Chancellor says.

But I ignore him. What’s worse, I turn my back on him, at least as well as I can without being able to feel my leg. I hope, with every fiber of my being, that he doesn’t zap a spell at it. “Nathaniel, put your hands on your head.”

He promptly complies, placing both hands on the back of his head. My shoulders sag as the final murmuring of the crowd goes silent. It has to be the Califrasum tea. If that’s truly the case, I should be able to find out.

“
What happened to you?” I’m grateful my voice sounds strong and firm. Never before have I so desperately needed it to be so.

“
When I refused to illegally increase my magic, Chancellor Ryan forced me to drink something. Once it took effect, he made me take blood magic from five tarnished women.”

A gasp escapes not only me but the entire crowd. Chancellor Ryan! I should have known. At that instant, the time expires, the moment a winner should be declared. It only distracts me for a moment, though. Five women were killed in order for Nathaniel to beat me. I roll to the side, my dead leg flopping to the ground, and vomit atop the dueling ring.

Chapter Forty-Eight

My stomach still churns as I finally turn back toward the Grand Chancellor. Did he know about this? Would he have permitted Chancellor Ryan to do something like this to his own son? Everything about this is so wrong, I can’t bring myself to speak, but it’s no matter. My point has already been proved, and everyone here saw it and knows something is going on.

The only sound is the pattering of rain and the howling of wind. Everyone seems just as focused on the Grand Chancellor as I am. The way his eyes pierce into mine, I don’t relish what’s to happen if he should ever come upon me alone, without the crowd he depends on to keep both his leadership and his sources of trade intact.

He waves his hand. I want to flinch but make my last moments firm and steady. Instead of slamming into me, his spell rises to the crack in the dome and repairs it. How many warlocks did it take to make that the first time? The rain stops, though I’m still soaked and covered with mud. At some point, I started shivering.