Even after the story, when she’d assured both her sons she’d only been joking, Alistair hadn’t been able to shake the suspicion that he didn’t belong. That one night, the monsters he feared would steal him away from his brother.
Don’t be scared, he told himself in the dream. You are one of them.
Don’t be scared, Alistair told himself in real life, walking through the woods the first night of the tournament. What else could they take from you?
He pulled the map out of his pocket and traced his steps. He’d selected a Landmark along the western boundary of Ilvernath—the Cave, tucked into the mountain peak that overlooked the city. It was a strong Landmark with decent defensive enchantments, but Alistair didn’t care about such things. The Cave simply reminded him of a dragon’s lair, and of all monsters, dragons had always been his favorite.
Soon, the incline grew steeper. The trees grew sparser. The air, thinner. As he finally left the forest behind, he let out a shaky breath of relief. He would not be claimed tonight.
A branch snapped behind him, and he whipped around, light glowing in his spellring as he summoned the Warrior’s Helm. A shield surrounded him, clear but murky, like the surface of a lake. He peered through at the three figures who emerged from the darkness.
The Blair, wearing a polo shirt.
The Payne, wearing a large pair of combat boots and a bloodred grin the same color as the sky above them.
And a few steps behind them, the Darrow. Alistair couldn’t see much of him besides his blond curls.
If Alistair had been of sounder mind, he would know that three champions were far more fearsome and rational than three monsters, but still, he was relieved to find their faces human. In this scenario, Alistair was the beast. Better to play a villain than a victim.
The Payne smirked. “I see you’ve sobered up.”
“Unfortunately,” he replied, though he still wasn’t positive he had. “Have you come looking for a battle?”
During the last tournament, his Aunt Alphina had won in only four days. Alistair had been compared to her all his childhood, so he assumed himself equally capable. Still, the prospect of fighting three champions at once seemed risky, even for him. Nor was it his style. Unlike the Blair, he was not a chivalrous knight collecting glory on the battlefield. He was a dagger in the darkness, quiet blood spilled on nightclothes, a scream that died in your throat.
“Quite the opposite,” the Blair answered. “As you can see, the three of us are working together—”
“For now,” Alistair purred.
The Darrow and the Payne exchanged wary glances. Whatever reason they were here, it was clearly the Blair’s idea.
“We’re here to invite you to join us,” the Blair said. “The Lowes and Blairs have allied in the past.”
Yes, maybe once, four hundred years ago, Alistair thought.
“The Macaslan and Thorburn girls will ally together,” the Darrow said with confidence. “Isobel knows Innes. She was friends with her sister.”
Even if what they said was true, it did little to sway him. “So you’re hoping for a team of four to take out … a single pair of champions.”
He didn’t know a lot about the other champions, but he did know this much—apart from him, the Macaslan was the most powerful competitor in the tournament. These champions only stood a chance four against two.
“This doesn’t have to be messy,” the Blair said.
Alistair rolled his eyes. Only a Blair would try to find honor in the twisted nature of the tournament. No code or rules applied now. “Why me? Shouldn’t you be begging the Grieve? He seems desperate enough to agree.”
The Payne raised her chin. “We’re not looking for deadweight.”
Alistair remembered the shattered glass earlier that night. The spell had been a blur, cast before Alistair had an opportunity to protect himself. Granted, he’d been drunk, but it still had taken skill. There was more to the Grieve champion than this town had chosen to see. Though, admittedly, Alistair had forgotten his name, too.
“I’m not interested,” Alistair said. His voice slurred slightly.
“You should be,” the Blair said. “We might not have the same reputation as you, but we have spells and curses that you don’t, and we’d be willing to share.”
“And wouldn’t you worry I’d just murder you all in your sleep?” Alistair cocked his head to the side, flashing his best dragon smile. “Or were you hoping to do the same to me? Catch me when my guard is down?”