My heart kicks hard against my ribs. It rocks me backward, awareness shuddering through me like a shot of tequila. I can feel it everywhere; it’s corrosive.
“Yeah. Right. We should head on,” I say, and start back up the sidewalk.
Thio’s next to me, both of us silent.
He doesn’t want this to just be physical. I don’t think he ever has.
Would it be so terrible if it were more?
Yes,part of me immediately screams. Yes, it would be so terrible. I don’tdomore—more means letting him in. More means he’d be someone I’d tell about my mom’s text.Hey, my dad’s going to take over the place that fucked me up.
It’s not fine.
It’s not fine at all.
We reach the stadium. After giving our names to security, we’re let out onto the rawball field.
The field has been divided in half by a huge concrete wallpainted in purple and gold stripes. On either side are identical setups: various obstacles, boulders and block walls and stairs that lead to nowhere, all of it done in the same purple and gold hues. Everything on each side is centered around a platform embellished with the Manticore logo.
“They’re being too subtle on the school spirit theme,” I mutter at Thio. “They really should try harder.”
He glances at me but doesn’t pick up the banter. Our gazes linger, his softening.
I don’t want to hurt him.
The realization that I probablyamhurting him by insisting on these boundaries digs a pit in my chest, and that more than anything has my breath coming out in a forceful push.
I need to talk to him. Figure out if this arrangement is still working for him. That’s appropriate, right? That’s a mature reaction to what’s been a very reasonable, structured arrangement. We’re both adults. And we’ve already established that the rules can change.
But what if I ask him if this is still working, and he says no, he wants more?
“Mr. Walsh!” Professor Thompson emerges from the same door we came through. “Mr. Tourael! We’re ready to start, if you’ll join us on the field? Ah, but leave your component harnesses and all spell ingredients aside. We’re not to take anything in with us.”
I trip. Internally, externally; my thoughts catch and topple all over, and I whip toward him so fast I lose my footing and my knee buckles. Thio catches me, his hand gripping tight around my upper arm, and I’m grateful for the sting of his fingers.
“What? We’re going in unprepared?” A dozen other questions gather, but I choke them down. “I mean, I thought we’d be casting spells for this challenge?”
“We are,” Thompson says. “We’ll have everything we need. Components will be provided for us; that’s part of the challenge. Now come, come—we’ll hear all the rules in a moment.”
He walks off to where Thio’s faculty advisor, Dr. Narbeth, is standing at the end of the divider wall, facing the crowd that’sgathered in this side of the stands. The hum of conversation echoes through the stadium, dozens of people watching us, most in Lesiara U clothing, a sea of purple and gold that ripples and heaves.
A shudder walks through me.
In the front row, decidedlynotwearing Lesiara U clothes but instead another boring-ass beige suit, is Myrdin, looking like he sucked a lemon.
My eyes flick from him to Thio, who shakes his head in fatigued acknowledgment that yeah, Arasne sent her spy to watch.
“I’m surprised Arasne cares how you do at this challenge,” I say, lips numb.
“It’s a public event; I’mrepresenting the family.” His brow furrows. “You okay?”
He’s still holding my arm.
I don’t want him to let go.
I shrug out of his grip and take off my component belt, my fingers ungainly. “Yeah. Fine. Just hate the unknown.”
Thio huffs a laugh. “What, you? A control freak? Never would’ve guessed.”
