“We will,” Briony said firmly.
Isobel stalked to the Champions Pillar and examined it with the focused gaze of a spellmaker. “The side with the stars represents the safe way to dismantle the curse, the way Finley and Briony started when … when they united the Sword with the Cave.”
Even though Isobel didn’t look at Briony as she spoke, Briony still felt a rush of relief and pride at her words. Isobel finally believed her.
Isobel traced her hand over the side with the names of every champion, past and present. “I think this side represents the dangerous way of breaking the tournament. This is the way that’s been breaking since it started. This is what brought Hendry back.”
“Fantastic,” Gavin said dryly. “That’s the side with three cracks.”
“But we have no idea what’s causing those cracks,” Finley pointed out.
Briony’s stomach churned with trepidation as she looked from face to face. She remembered how polished all of them had looked the last time they’d been here, in their banquet finery. Now they were covered in blood and bruises, cursemarks glowing on their limbs and faces, Elionor’s body lying only a meter away.
“It doesn’t matter what’s causing them,” Briony said, “because we have a plan that will work. All we have to do is repeat what Finley and I just did, pairing Landmarks and Relics before the enchantment unravels completely.”
“Wait a moment,” Alistair murmured. His icy tone was nothing like the nervous boy who’d set her free only hours before. “You said Hendry is caught in the high magick that makes up the tournament. So if we break the tournament, what happens to him?”
Hendry rested a hand on Alistair’s arm. Briony stared grimly at the trail of shimmering high magick that moved alongside him. If the tournament ended, Hendry would probably go with it.
But before she could find the words to tell him that, her gaze trailed back to Elionor’s corpse. Alistair had never explained why he had killed her, but Briony could see the answer now. It was in the splatters of Elionor’s blood across his face. In his threatening stance as he braced himself in front of Hendry.
Gavin was the one who answered, after a long, uncomfortable silence. “Hendry would go back to being dead, is what would happen.”
“There has to be another way,” Alistair shot back. “We’ll figure out another way.”
“With what time?” Briony asked. “The tournament is collapsing as we speak.”
“You both said that you don’t know what’s causing those other cracks. We shouldn’t—”
“I don’t want you to die, Al,” Hendry told him. “I don’t want you all to die trying to save me.”
Alistair didn’t look like he’d even heard him. His gaze was focused on Briony and Finley, warning, pleading. “All I’m asking for is more time.”
“The way you gave Elionor time?” Finley gestured from Elionor’s body to the holes in the Blood Veil, the cracks in the Pillar. “We don’t have time. We need to act as fast as possible, if the magick really is unraveling.”
Briony felt a twinge of guilt at the anguish on Alistair’s face. But he’d chosen to kill Elionor. And he was choosing his brother’s life over all of theirs.
“You’re right,” Briony said. “We should get started right away. We’ll take the Cloak to its Landmark, and—”
“The Relics fall randomly over the course of the whole tournament!” Alistair shouted. “That’s another ten weeks! How can you say you don’t have time?”
“If the tournament doesn’t collapse, it’ll end. It always ends after three months, even if there’s no winner,” Isobel said softly. “Which means Hendry will be gone then, too. I’m so sorry. He’ll end with the tournament either way.”
“You don’t know that,” Alistair growled. “There’s a thousand reasons that might not be true. The rules are breaking. There’s high magick in Ilvernath, even after the tournament ends—”
“So what you’re saying is that you won’t help us break it at all,” Briony said. “Because breaking it could make him disappear.”
“I … I…” Alistair clearly didn’t know what to say.
“And if you don’t plan on surviving the tournament by breaking it, then the only way out is to win it,” Finley said, a warning note in his voice.