“You said… you once told me my magic felt strong. If it pains you to touch me now, when I can barely use a fraction of it, what would happen if my magic were free?”
Arin raised his chin, unmoved by the question. It must have occurred to him soon after the events in the Relic Room.
“I can’t know for certain what would happen if your full magic was accessible. I might be able to drain it normally. Maybe I’d never reach the bottom of your magic’s well, so to speak, and could only temporarily drain portions of it,” Arin said. “But if you want my strongest theory, I suspect touching you while you can fully express your magic would kill me.”
He offered it calmly, as one might report the presence of rain in the clouds. It took me a minute to gather myself and collect the jaw I’d dropped. “That is quite a theory.” One I doubted had any shred of likelihood. My magic was powerful, but not to the extent that draining it would kill him. That touching me would kill him.
“Anything else?” Arin braced his hands against the arms of his chair, clearly ready to conclude the conversation.
The dreams I had plummeted through after Soraya’s attack. They were only dreams, but in one of them…
“Was your hair black before the curse?”
I might have asked if he licked muddy horse hooves from the shock flickering over his expression. Kapastra’s horned beasts, could there have been a measure of truth to those dreams?
I thought quickly. Arin would want to know how I knew, and “I saw it in my dreams” would not serve me well.
“Sefa told me she heard a rumor at the school you attended together.”
The tension relaxed fractionally. He was still suspicious, but my answer must have been acceptable enough for the time being. “I see.” He stood abruptly, straightening the lines of his coat. “You should sleep. I will come escort you to the trial tomorrow.”
A resounding end to the conversation, then. My questions about the full scope of his curse lingered, but he had given me plenty to consider.
“Of course. Yes. I will see you in the morning.” A wave of inexplicable sorrow crested over me. For better or worse, tomorrow would usher in the beginning of the end. End of Essiya, and maybe the true start of Sylvia. I covered by dipping into an exaggerated bow. “Good night.”
Arin studied me. My smirk faded. I had worn a thousand faces in my twenty years. Fooled friends and enemies with my false names and empty smiles. But sometimes, like now, Arin gazed at me a certain way, and I thought he saw it. My true face, hidden beneath the debris.
I wondered what it looked like.
I wondered why in a world ripe with monsters and magic, only he could see me so clearly.
“Good night, Suraira.”
They summoned the Champions at midday. We had two hours from then to reach the cliffside on the other end of the forest. The first three Champions to cross Ayume Forest and climb to the top of the bluff would move to the second trial. I followed the rest of the Champions down the damp, winding tunnel. Each step added a fresh wave of anxiety. The tunnel would take us to the edge of Ayume.
Slightly ahead, Diya walked with her shoulders pulled back. Water droplets clung to her shorn hair. Timur and Mehti spoke in low tones, and I stared at the back of Timur’s head until he glanced over. He waved, pointing at Mehti with a coconspiratorial eye roll. I smiled back.
The Lukub Champion would die today.
Someone cleared their throat pointedly. Diya slowed to match my pace. “Do you think they have an alliance?” She nodded at Timur and Mehti.
It seemed more likely Mehti had trapped Timur in conversation, and the Lukub Champion’s politeness kept him captive. “Why? Are you suggesting you and I form one?”
Diya scoffed. “What value could an alliance with you provide?”
“Now, Diya. How did you know insults were the way to my heart?”
Instead of a snide retort, Diya pinched her nose. “Do you smell that?” She glared at Timur. “It’s coming from the Lukubi.”
I snorted. Her antipathy for everything Lukub had no bounds. From the gloom ahead, five narrow sets of steps ended the tunnel. Five steps for five Champions. Everywhere we went, Jasad followed.
Diya took the steps to my right, Mehti to my left.
“May we share the Awaleen’s fortitude and see each other again in joy,” Timur said. I prodded around the thin canvas covering the opening, rising to the top step. The other Champions copied my position, palms pressed to the canvas.
“For Baira!” Timur bellowed, and leapt through the canvas. A beam of sunlight poured into the tunnel from the new opening.