The two wordlessly descended the mountain and entered the trees. The night was quiet and chilled, and though October had certainly changed the leaves into an array of rich autumnal color, amid the tournament, they and the rest of the landscape wore scarlet.
Alistair marveled at how severe everything looked when illuminated by the Blood Veil. His hands had gone sallow. Even Isobel’s soft features had sharpened, and the whites of her eyes were dull and pink.
“Why are you stopping?” Isobel asked.
“Because it looks like it’ll fall right around here.” Alistair pointed at the comet-like streak in the sky directly above them. “So now we wait.”
Quickly, he cast several spells over the surrounding area to muffle the sound of their voices and shield them from long-distance curses. The pair might’ve been the first to arrive, but he was certain other champions were soon to follow.
An owl hooted behind him and, instinctively, Alistair cast a Guillotine’s Gift. A branch severed from a nearby tree and crashed—soundlessly, thanks to his wards—to the grass. He whipped around, his heart pounding.
“Al,” Isobel said sharply.
She’d unknowingly used his brother’s nickname for him. It made his heart clench, an unwelcome feeling when he’d rather his heart just stop altogether.
Realizing the threat had been nonexistent, he took a step back from her, pressing himself even more firmly against the tree. But while distracted in his thoughts, his foot snagged on a root and he slipped. He caught himself on a branch, swearing.
“What are you thinking about?” Isobel asked, her concern obvious in her voice.
“What does it look like I’m thinking about?” he shot back. “The others could arrive any moment.” He mentally combed through his spell collection for more defensive enchantments, but even with eight, ten, twenty, the Sword could cut through them. He’d faced the Blair champion with the Relic once already, but that didn’t mean—
“You need a distraction,” Isobel told him.
“Now is not the time for a distraction.”
“Okay. That was a bad choice of word. What you need is to relax.” She took a step closer, backing him into a nearby tree. His heart picked up even faster. “Five letters. A mathematical symbol. Think fast.”
Alistair wracked his brain for the answer. He normally did crosswords when he was bored, when he had nothing else to think about. But right now he had a thousand thoughts competing for focus in his mind. The peony smell of Isobel’s perfume. The fact that he’d never brought anyone into the woods other than his brother. How even with all his enchantments, he still felt exposed. Vulnerable. Weak.
“Power?” Alistair guessed, unsure if that even made sense.
She smirked. “What an Alistair Lowe answer. I meant ‘equal.’ You can’t read my thoughts. I can’t read yours.”
Thank everything for that, Alistair thought, skimming the silhouette of her lips, her neck, her waist in the dark. He was pretty sure she’d yell at him if she could still read his mind. For what he was thinking about her. For what he was thinking about giving up.
“It’s about to become real, isn’t it?” she asked, her voice suddenly gentle.
The Relics fell randomly, at any time, in any order, and even if Isobel desperately needed that second Relic, it was hard for Alistair to view its quick fall as anything other than bad luck. That time was all he had, and it wasn’t enough to make Isobel like him after she’d spent so long afraid of him. To figure out who he was without his monster stories. Without his brother.
“It is,” Alistair agreed.
“You have that expression,” Isobel said warily.
Alistair clenched his hand into a fist. “Like murder?”
“No, not this time,” she murmured.
He swallowed, knowing that if everything truly did change tonight, he might never have his chance again. “I really am sorry for how I … for who I am.”
“I like who you are more than who you pretend to be.” Then she reached out and took his hand, interlocking her fingers with his. He didn’t know if she was still playing games with him. He didn’t think so, but he didn’t care. The hope that flared in his chest felt better than anything had in a long time.
Alistair’s logic told him that this was a terrible, dangerous idea. Even with his protective spells surrounding them, they weren’t invincible.
Her lips hovered a breath away from his own. Her free hand found its way around his neck, teasing the dark curls behind his ears.