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Alucard shrugged, offering her some kind of pastry. “I can think of less pleasant ways to pass a night.”

She took the bread-thing and nibbled on the corner. “I keep forgetting you’re a part of that world.”

His look cooled. “I’m not.”

The breakfast was reviving; her vision started to focus, and as it did, her attention narrowed on the paper in his hands. It was a copy of the bracket, the eighteen victors now paired off into nine new sets. She’d been so tired, she hadn’t even checked.

“What does the field look like today?”

“Well, I have the luxury of going up against one of my oldest friends, not to mention the best wind magician I’ve ever met—”

“Jinnar?” asked Lila, suddenly interested. That would be quite a match.

Alucard nodded grimly, “And you’ve only got to face …” He trailed his finger across the page. “…Ver-as-Is.”

“What do you know about him?” she asked.

Alucard’s brow furrowed. “I’m sorry, have you mistaken me for a comrade? The last time I checked we were on opposite sides of the bracket.”

“Come on, Captain. If I die in this, you’ll have to find yourself a new thief.”

The words were out before she remembered she’d already lost her place aboard the Night Spire. She tried a second time. “My witty banter is one of a kind. You know you’ll miss it when I’m gone.” Again, it was the wrong thing to say, and a heavy silence settled in its wake. “Fine,” she said, exasperated. “Two more questions, two more answers, in exchange for whatever you know.”

Alucard’s lips quirked. He folded the roster and set it aside, lacing his fingers with exaggerated patience. “When did you first come to our London?”

“Four months ago,” she said. “I needed a change of scenery.” She meant to stop there, but the words kept coming. “I got pulled into something I didn’t expect, and once it started, I wanted to see it through. And then it was over, and I was here, and I had a chance to start fresh. Not every past is worth holding onto.”

That got a look of interest, and she expected him to continue down his line of inquiry, but instead he changed directions.

“What were you running from, the night you joined my crew?”

Lila frowned, her gaze escaping down to the cup of black tea. “Who said I was running?” she murmured. Alucard raised a brow, patient as a cat. She took a long, scalding sip, let it burn all the way down before she spoke. “Look, everyone talks about the unknown like it’s some big scary thing, but it’s the familiar that’s always bothered me. It’s heavy, builds up around you like rocks, until it’s walls and a ceiling and a cell.”

“Is that why you were so determined to take Stasion’s spot?” he asked icily. “Because my company had become a burden?”

Lila set her cup down. Swallowed the urge to apologize. “You had your two questions, Captain. It’s my turn.”

Alucard cleared his throat. “Very well. Ver-as-Is. Obviously Faroan, and not a nice fellow, from what I’ve heard. An earth mage with a temper. You two should get along splendidly. It’s the second round, so you’re allowed to use a second element, if you’re able.”

Lila rapped her fingers on the table. “Water.”

“Fire and water? That’s an unusual pairing. Most dual magicians pick adjacent elements. Fire and water are on opposite sides of the spectrum.”

“What can I say, I’ve always been contrary.” She winked her good eye. “And I had such a good teacher.”

“Flatterer,” he muttered.

“Arse.”

He touched his breast, as if offended. “You’re up this afternoon,” he said, pushing to his feet, “and I’m up soon.” He didn’t seem thrilled.

“Are you worried?” she asked. “About your match?”

Alucard took up his tea cup. “Jinnar’s the best at what he does. But he only does one thing.”

“And you’re a man of many talents.”

Alucard finished his drink and set the cup back on the table. “I’ve been told.” He shrugged on his coat. “See you on the other side.”

* * *

The stadium was packed.

Jinnar’s banner flew, sunset purple on a silver ground, Alucard’s silver on midnight blue.

Two Arnesians.

Two favorites.

Two friends.

Rhy was up on the royal platform, but Lila saw no sign of the king or queen, or Kell for that matter, though she spotted Alucard’s siblings on a balcony below. Berras scowled while Anisa clapped and cheered and waved her brother’s pennant.

The arena was a blur of motion and light, and the entire crowd held its breath as the two favorites danced around each other. Jinnar moved like air, Alucard like steel.

Lila fidgeted with the sliver of pale stone—turning the White London keepsake over in her fingers as she watched, trying to keep up with the competitors’ movements, read the lines of attack, predict what they would do, and understand how they did it.

It was a close match.

Jinnar was a thing of beauty when it came to wind, but Alucard was right; it was his only element. He could render it into a wall or a wave, use it to cut like a knife, and with its help he could practically fly. But Alucard held earth and water, and everything they made between them—blades as solid as metal, shields of stone and ice—and in the end, his two elements triumphed over Jinnar’s one, and Alucard won, breaking ten plates of armor to Jinnar’s seven.

The silver-eyed magician withdrew, a smile visible through the metal wisps of his mask, and Alucard tipped his scale-plated chin to the royal platform and offered a deep bow to the prince before disappearing into the corridor.

The audience started to file out, but Lila lingered. The walk to the arena had loosened her limbs, but she wasn’t keen on moving again, not before she had to, so she hung back, watching the crowds ebb and flow as some left for other matches, and others came. The blue and silver pennants disappeared, replaced by a flaming red cat on a golden ground—that was Kisimyr’s banner—and a pair of lions on red.

Kamerov.

Lila pocketed the shard of white stone and settled in. This should be interesting.

She had Kisimyr pinned as a fireworker, but the Arnesian champion came out—prowled, really, that mane of black hair spilling out in ropes below her feline mask—holding spheres of water and earth.

To the crowd’s delight, Kamerov appeared with the same.

An equal match, then, at least as far the elements went. It wasn’t even Lila’s fight—thank god it wasn’t her fight—but she felt her pulse tick up in excitement.

The orbs fell, and the match crashed into motion.

They were well paired—it took almost five full minutes for Kisimyr to land the first hit, a glancing blow to Kamerov’s thigh. It took another eight for Kamerov to land the second.

Lila’s eyes narrowed as she watched, picking up on something even before she knew what it was.

Kisimyr moved in a way that was elegant, but almost animal. But Kamerov … there was something familiar about the fluid way he fought. It was graceful, almost effortless, the flourishes tacked on in a way that looked unnecessary. Before the tournament, she’d truly only seen a handful of fights using magic. But it was like déjà vu, watching him down there on the arena floor.

Lila rapped her fingers on the rail and leaned forward.

Why did he seem so familiar?

* * *

Kell ducked, and rolled, and dodged, trying to pace his speed to Kisimyr’s, which was hard because she was fast. Faster than his first opponent, and stronger than anyone he’d fought, save Holland. The champion matched him measure for measure, point for point. That first blow had been a mistake, clumsy, clumsy—but saints, he felt good. Alive.