I watch as the Elder Superior’s son—the same one that my Champion cannot seem to distance herself from—dances with her. I pry open my fist, forcing my hand to lay straight at my side.
I fight the pull of my magic within, itching to crumble this castle into pieces so small it would slip off the side of the mountain.
The male cadet moves closer to my champion and… I decide that I do not like anyone touching her. She represents my territory now. A champion for Terraguard.
In a few quick strides, I’m right behind them. The boy looks at me with an incredulous stare. Bold, I’ll give him that.
“If I may have this dance,” I half ask, half command. My voice sounds unnecessarily gruff.
She turns around, golden eyes widening at my extended hand. Her cherry red lips part and close before she finally answers, “Um, okay.”
She places her hand tentatively in mine. I waste no time and pull her away from the Elder’s son.
Her steps falter, and I quickly turn around, catching her by the waist. Her cheeks brighten.
“Sorry, I’m not used to these damn shoes,” she says in a voice that could rival a siren. “And it would be helpful if you didn’t walk so fast. It takes three steps of mine to match your one.”
“Apologies, champion.”
“Akemi. Just Akemi.”
I move closer and place my hand under her chin.
“Akemi,” I test her name on my lips, and I find I like the taste. “I shall walk slower in your company to accommodate your pace from now on.”
“Thank you,” she says, though she looks anything but thankful. Her arms are crossed and eyebrows furrowed.
“Does that rule apply to dancing as well?” Before she can answer, I grab her hand and glide her underneath my arm in a circle before returning her back to where she was standing before. Her cheeks flush beneath the freckles on her nose.
I frown at how easily flustered she is. We will need to work on that in order for her to win the Summit. I place my hand around her back, covering the exposed skin of her shoulder blade with my palm. Her skin pebbles at my touch. My inner beast purrs with delight at the reaction.
“Why me?” she asks, her voice breathless and low. I don’t need context to know that she is asking why I chose her as my champion. It is a simple question to answer, and yet I see the concern in her eyes, the tense pull of her shoulders and tilt of her head.
“Because Iseeyou,” I admit. Her gaze widens at my comment. “I see the fire beneath your skin. The soul hidden underneath.”
“So it is true? You can see our souls?”
I startle at her forwardness but do not let my surprise show.
“Yes,” I say, offering her this small truth. I turn her once more and slide her along my arm until she is as far as I can muster, arms extended like magnets, fingertips brushing. I let go of the contact and orbit around her, unable to resist the pull of this magnificent star standing before me.
“What do you see when you look at me?” she asks quietly, watching me circle around and around until I’m towering right in front of her, only inches away.
I stand transfixed by her for a moment until I settle on my answer. Another truth then, I decide. “A soul unlike anyone I’ve ever encountered.”
She stills for a moment, considering my response. So I take the lead and twirl her once again. When her hand melds into mine once more, the tension she was harboring in her posture softens.If I were a human, I wouldn’t have noticed the miniscule shift in her pulse.
It is true that there were more gallant human champions I could have chosen. More brutish strength or violent displays. But I chose her, not for the golden sunrise that she is, but for her cunning, her fire, her ferocity that showed when the head landed at the Jord Lord’s feet.
She looks to the side, exposing the column of her neck. She is not ready for the brutality of the Summit. I half curse myself for picking her at all, lest she be able to watch safely from the sidelines. But there was a need I could not quite understand. In myself, and in her. There was a desperation and hunger in her eyes at the Presentation. She needs this, for some reason. And I intend to figure out why. “We will begin lessons soon.”
“My lessons?”
“Yes. You are not ready for the Summit. I have seen many, sponsored the last three, and while your physical ability with the throwing stars was impressive, you are not ready.”
“Wait, so you are over seventy-five years old? At least? But you look like you’re twenty-five, thirty tops.” She makes a choking sound and covers her mouth, averting her gaze to the floor.
Against my better judgment, the corner of my mouth pulls upward.
