He doesn’t know what’s wrong but he’d fuck all this off for me, no questions asked, even with Myrdin watching.
My entire body sways toward him.
“No.” I extricate myself from Thio’s hold, barely aware I’m doing it, and walk toward the left side of the field on autopilot. “What, uh, is this competition? I missed what Narbeth said.”
Thio keeps pace with me. “Screw this competition. What’s going on?”
“Nothing. I’m fine.”
Thio’s lips part, a soft huff. “Sebas—”
Fury races through me, chewing me to pieces. “Not now. I said I’mfine,Elethior.”
I want to suck it back. Peel off the extra letters that immediately erect a barrier between us. He gave me his name and I went and shoved it back in his face, and the way he looks at me, with a recoil he can’t hide quickly enough, jabs into me.
My mouth hangs open.
This isn’t what we are.
This isn’t what we are.
This isn’t—
You had such promise, Mr. Walsh. This was wasted on you.
Only it’s my dad saying it now. My dad standing over me and Orok. My dad walking away as I begged,beggedfor it to stop.
I can’t breathe, and for once in my life, I’m not angry.
Well, notjustangry.
I’m devastated.
Thio waves at our side of the field, resignation hollowing his features. “The competition—components are hidden all around our side of the arena. We have to get what we can to cast whatever spells we think we’ll need. First team to defeat the spitting ooze cube wins.”
My head twitches. “A—what?”
A smile touches the corner of his lips. “You really weren’t paying attention. A spitting ooze cube. There’ll be one on both sides, in the center platform, and the first team to successfully restrain or defeat it wins.”
I never thought I’d be so grateful for a weird monster. It derails my brewing storm and I rip a hand through my hair. “A spitting ooze cube. What the fuck.”
Thio continues into our side of the arena and takes a position behind a short purple brick wall. I follow him and crouch down, the crowd able to fully see us, but we’re blocked from the center platform.
“Wait.” My head twitches again. “Aren’t ooze cubes usually acidic?”
A buzzer sounds.
Thio and I both arch up to look over the wall as a ripple of arcane blue energy falls across the Manticore platform.
A hefty ten-by-ten square of hazy purple Jello-O-like material appears.
“Competitors!” a voice echoes over the arena. “Begin!”
“We’re graduate students,” I say, voice flat. “Graduate. Students.”
Thio chuckles. “Then this should be easy.”
The cube makes a truly repulsive squelching noise as it shifts one of its sides parallel to the wall we’re behind. It must have some noise-sensing abilities; barely a beat passes after we finish talking before a wad of purple goo launches out of the cube and smacks into our wall.
