“Fal chas,” said Ister, just before the trumpets blared in warning, and Lila cinched the demon’s jaw and took off, the final buckles on her mask still streaming behind her.
* * *
Kell cocked his head at Rhy, wondering what the prince would do. If Elsor didn’t show, he would be forced to forfeit. If he was forced to forfeit, Kell would have the points to advance. Kell couldn’t advance. He watched the struggle play out across Rhy’s face, and then the king whispered something in his ear. The prince seemed to grow paler as he raised the gold ring to his mouth, ready to call the match. But before he could speak, an attendant appeared at the edge of the platform and spoke rapidly. Rhy hesitated, and then, mercifully, the trumpets rang.
Moments later Stasion hurried into the stadium looking … disheveled. But when he saw Kell, he broke into a smile, his teeth shining white behind his devil’s mask. There was no warmth in that look. It was a predator’s grin.
The crowds burst into excited applause as Kamerov Loste and Stasion Elsor took their places at the center of the arena.
Kell squinted through his visor at Elsor’s mask. Up close it was a nightmarish thing.
“Tas renar,” said Kell. You are late.
“I’m worth the wait,” answered Stasion. His voice caught Kell off guard. Husky and smooth, and sharp as a knife. And yet, undeniably female.
He knew that voice.
Lila.
But this wasn’t Lila. This couldn’t be Lila. She was a human, a Grey-worlder—a Grey-worlder unlike any other, yes, but a Grey-worlder all the same—and she didn’t know how to do magic, and she would definitely never be crazy enough to enter the Essen Tasch.
As soon as the thought ran through his head, Kell’s argument crumbled. Because if anyone was bullheaded enough to do something this stupid, this rash, this suicidal, it was the girl who’d picked his pocket that night in Grey London, who’d followed him through a door in the worlds—a door she should never have survived—and faced the black stone and the white royals and death itself with a sharpened smile.
The same sharpened smile that glinted now, between the lips of the demon’s face.
“Wait,” said Kell.
The word was a whisper, but it was too late. The judge had already signaled, and Lila let go of her spheres. Kell dropped his own an instant later, but she was already on the attack.
Kell hesitated, but she didn’t. He was still trying to process her presence when she iced the ground beneath his feet, then struck out at close range with a dagger made of flame. Kell lunged away, but not far enough, and a moment later he was on his back, light bursting from the plate across his stomach, and Lila Bard kneeling over him.
He stared up into her mismatched brown eyes.
Did she know it was him behind the silver mask?
“Hello,” she said, and in that one word, he knew that she did. Before he could say anything, Lila pushed herself off again. Kell quickly rolled backward, leveraging himself into a fighting crouch.
She had two knives now (of course she had chosen the blades—one made of fire, one made of ice), and she was twirling them casually. Kell had chosen nothing. (It was a bold move, one Kamerov would make, and one designed to sink him. But not this fast.) He lashed his water into a whip and struck, but Lila rolled out of reach and threw her icy blade. Kell dodged, and in that distracted moment she tried to strike again, but this time his earth caught hold of her boot and his whip lashed out. Lila got her fire knife up to block his blow, the water whip breaking around the blade, but the whip’s end managed to find her forearm, shattering a plate.
Lila was still pinned in place, but she was smirking, and an instant later her ice blade hit Kell from behind. He staggered forward as a second plate broke and he lost his hold on her foot.
And then the real fight began.
They sparred, a blur of elements and limbs, hits marked only by a flare of light. They came together, lunged apart, matching each other blow for blow.
“Have you lost your mind?” he growled as their elements crashed together.
“Nice to see you, too,” she answered, ducking and spinning behind him.
“You have to stop,” he ordered, narrowly dodging a fireball.
“You first,” she chided, diving behind a column.
Water slashed, and fire burned, and earth rumbled.
“This is madness.”
“I’m not the only one in disguise.” Lila drew near, and he thought she’d go in for a strike, but at the last second she changed her mind, touched the fire blade to her empty palm, and pushed.
For an instant, the air around them faltered. Kell saw pain flash across Lila’s face behind the mask, but then a wall of flame erupted toward him, and it was all he could do to will his water up into a wave over his head. Steam poured forth as the two elements collided. And then Lila did something completely unexpected. She reached out and froze the water over Kell’s head. His water.
The audience gasped, and Kell swore, as the sheet of ice cracked and splintered and came crashing down on top of him. It wasn’t against the rules—they’d both chosen water—but it was a rare thing, to claim your opponent’s element for yourself, and overpower them.
A rarer thing still, to be overpowered.
Kell could have escaped, could have drawn the fight out another measure, maybe two. But he had to lose. So he held his ground and let the ceiling of ice fall, shattering the plates across his shoulders and back, and sending up flares of light.
And just like that, it was over.
Delilah Bard had won.
She came to a stop beside him, offered him her hand.
“Well played, mas vares,” she whispered.
Kell stood there, dazed. He knew he should bow to her, to the crowd, and go, but his feet wouldn’t move. He watched as Lila tipped her mask up to the stands, and the king, then watched as she gave him one last devilish grin and slipped away. He gave a rushed bow to the royal platform and sprinted after her, out of the stadium and into the tents, throwing open the curtain marked by the two crossed blades.
An attendant stood waiting, the only figure in an otherwise empty tent.
“Where is she?” he demanded, even though he knew the answer.
The devil’s mask sat on the cushions, discarded along with the rest of the armor.
Lila was already gone.
V
Lila leaned back against Elsor’s door, gasping for air.
She’d caught him off guard, that much was sure, and now Kell knew. Knew she’d been in London for days, knew she’d been there, right beside him, in the tournament. Her heart was pounding in her chest; she felt like a cat who’d finally caught its mouse, and then let it go. For now.
The high began to settle with her pulse. Her head was throbbing, and when she swallowed, she tasted blood. She waited for the wave of dizziness to pass, and when it didn’t, she let her body sink to the wooden floor, Kell’s voice ringing in her ears.
That familiar, exasperated tone.
This is madness.
So superior, as if they weren’t both breaking all the rules. As if he weren’t playing a part, just like her.
You have to stop.
She could picture his frown behind that silver mask, the crease deepening between those two-toned eyes.
What would he do now?
What would she do?
Whatever happened, it was worth it.
Lila got to her knees, frowning as a drop of blood hit the wooden floorboards. She touched her nose, then wiped the streak of red on her sleeve and got up.