“Then prove you mean it,” Isobel said coolly. “I’ll craft a Truth or Treachery.” It was an unbreakable truth spell, class nine. If Briony attempted to lie while under its influence, she would perish. And then Isobel would not be the one forced to deal Briony a killing blow—Briony would deliver it to herself.
That did not make it less cruel. But the more the fantasy of the Cave faded and reality settled in, the more Isobel realized she had a capacity for cruelty after all. She could steal a recipe from an heirloom grimoire. She could seduce a boy who was otherwise an enemy. And when it came down to it, she could see her best friend dead.
Briony stared at her as though seeing Isobel for the first time.
“All right.” She hiked up her chin. “I’ll do it.”
A heavy, awkward silence fell over the corridor. Isobel did her best to ignore it and focus on picking the last of the dried blood from her nails.
Alistair cleared his throat and turned to Gavin. “Does this Landmark have a wine cellar?”
“No,” Gavin answered flatly.
“Not much of a castle then, is it?”
“It does have a liquor cabinet. And a dungeon.”
Alistair smirked. “I never say no to either.”
“Of course you don’t.”
The boys disappeared around the corner, and Isobel could hear the echoes of Gavin cursing down the hall.
“I’ll go find us some more raw magick in the courtyard,” Isobel said. “I’ll need a lot to craft the oath.”
Before she could follow after the boys, Briony leaned close to her and whispered, “You know, no matter what you might want to believe, you make a perfect champion.”
GAVIN GRIEVE
My family does not tell those who marry into our line the truth about our curse until after the wedding. It makes for a miserable honeymoon.
A Tradition of Tragedy
The Castle had been Gavin’s sanctum for the past few weeks. As long as he was within its walls, he was safe.
Until tonight, when he’d been forced to open the gates and willingly let his archenemy inside.
Gavin couldn’t stop seeing the Landmark through Alistair’s eyes, in all its gaudy glory. Everything he’d been proud of felt cheap now, gold paint and lacquer slapped over rubble and ruins, even though it had been enchanted exactly to his taste.
“Very impressive,” Alistair drawled, patting the mahogany arm of the throne. Isobel had returned from her errand with a flask of raw magick for each of them, then left to find a spare bedroom. To Gavin’s great surprise, Alistair hadn’t followed her. Which meant Gavin was stuck with his taunting. “Did the Castle give you kingly clothes, too, so you could play dress-up while sitting on your throne? Maybe a powdered wig?”
“At least I have a throne,” said Gavin tersely. “Weren’t you squatting in a cave?”
“The Cave is actually quite cozy.” Alistair tilted his head. His widow’s peak made the angles of his face look even more pronounced. “It has a lovely four-poster bed. A grotto. And quite the view.”
“So … you had furniture. Not sure that’s worth bragging about.”
Alistair’s lip curled. “Because you have so much to boast of? Seems to me Briony Thorburn’s the only reason you’re still alive right now.”
Gavin didn’t want to admit it, but Alistair was right. When Briony had convinced Isobel and Alistair to protect her, she’d somehow gotten Gavin included in a two-for-one deal.
Still, Gavin wasn’t happy that she’d offered up his Landmark like it was some kind of bed-and-breakfast. Her theories about ending the tournament for good were delusional.
But there was one thing she’d said that had stuck with him. I talked to a spellmaker who had the same theory.
Gavin thought of the ring in his pocket, the one he’d taken off Carbry Darrow’s body. He was willing to bet his life that both that fancy cursestone and Briony’s harebrained theories came from Reid MacTavish. And if Reid had messed with at least three of the champions, counting Gavin … then what did he want from this tournament? What was his game? Gavin was determined to figure it out. But unlike Briony, he wouldn’t be foolish enough to share his suspicions.
“If you’re going to try and kill me, just do it, okay?” Gavin said brusquely.
Alistair let out what seemed to be a deliberately dramatic sigh. “I wouldn’t have allied with you for the night if I was going to kill you.”
Alistair surveyed the throne room with visible distaste. When his gaze fell on the pillar, something dark crossed his expression. Gavin realized he was looking at Carbry’s name, struck out.