ISOBEL MACASLAN
The only thing worse than making another champion your enemy is making them a friend.
A Tradition of Tragedy
The interior of the Castle was grand—golden trim lining elegant crown molding, glass chandeliers in every room, and regal carpets sweeping down the hallways. It was impossible to enter it and feel anything less than royal.
“What a dump,” Alistair muttered behind her, probably just to earn a scowl from Gavin.
Gleaming suits of armor lined the corridor, with swords or axes clenched in metal fists. Isobel caught her reflection against a polished chest plate, her hair wild and tangled, the dried mud crusted against her clothes.
She almost didn’t recognize herself. The Cloak trailed behind her like the train of a gown, and her spellstones glittered on each finger—the Reaper’s Embrace now included among them, ready to be filled with magick.
She looked like a champion.
She looked good.
“We should spend the night replenishing our supplies. Grieve, do you have raw magick stored here?” Isobel asked.
Gavin’s eyes widened. Then he quickly cleared his throat. “That’s not your concern.”
Alistair scoffed. “You’re useless, aren’t you?”
“I’m not the one who nearly got himself killed.”
Alistair’s and Gavin’s eyes both flickered to the weapons along the walls, then toward each other, as though daring the other to strike.
“Go ahead,” Gavin murmured. “You’re on my turf now, Lowe.”
Isobel grimaced, trying to come up with a plan before the boys decided to sport those decorative suits of armor in a duel. But Briony spoke first—typical.
“I say we go collect our own,” she declared.
“Now?” Alistair asked haggardly. Wincing with every step and favoring his right leg, he looked in no condition to venture outside.
“You can stay here,” Briony said.
“With him?” Alistair looked at Gavin, aghast.
“We agreed to play nice, didn’t we?” Briony asked. “For the night?”
Isobel didn’t like the idea of abandoning Alistair with Gavin. But truthfully, the events of the day had left an uneasy feeling in her stomach. Alistair had nearly sacrificed everything for her, and as much as she cared for him, as much as she was grateful, it worried her that he’d act so recklessly. Two weeks spent in the Cave’s seclusion had let them forget the reality of their circumstances. Maybe it was better if they separated for the time being, for both of their sakes. Playing pretend would only get them hurt.
“If we’re going to be allies, even temporary ones, we need to use our time to our advantage,” Isobel said. “That means we can’t take a break to rest. And since Grieve is unwilling to share his raw magick…” Gavin stiffened and frowned at the floor. “The rest of us need to replenish our supplies.”
“I don’t have any raw magick, all right?” Gavin muttered.
Alistair’s grin was wicked. “I knew it.”
“So it’s decided—Briony and I will go.” Isobel didn’t relish the idea of alone time with Briony, but it couldn’t be helped. “Gavin can defend the Castle, and Alistair can rest. Hopefully we don’t meet Elionor and Finley along the way, but if we do…”
“I don’t want to go looking for another battle,” Briony murmured. “Not tonight.”
“Didn’t Elionor and Finley betray you?” Gavin asked. “I’d want to kill them if I were you.”
“It’s just that…” Briony’s voice grew taut, and she swallowed.
Isobel stared at Briony—at the filth splattered across her palms, at the tremor in her hand, at Carbry’s crusted blood.
Briony was cracking, Isobel realized. It was hard to believe after the years her former friend had spent dreaming of the tournament but, clearly, the grisly reality had not been kind to her.
Isobel would be lying if she claimed it didn’t give her a rush of satisfaction.
“It’s just that,” Briony continued, sounding increasingly frazzled, “I don’t want to fight them because I think there’s a chance that all of us—including Finley and Elionor—can make it out of this tournament alive.”
Isobel frowned. Briony’s state of mind was worse than she’d thought.
“What are you talking about?” she asked. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Alistair and Gavin exchange wary glances. They must’ve thought Briony’s words were as absurd as she did.