That was disturbing. And it reminded Lindon of Eithan’s expression upon seeing Penance.
“I was watching you last night, when the Abidan took out the arrowhead,” Lindon said.
Eithan nodded. “Yes, that was a…surprise. I had intended to spend several more years helping you grow, but now I’m afraid our time grows short. Which leaves me in a dilemma. I don’t know which way to go.”
Lindon leaned forward, hungry for more information.
“I will be unusually candid with you both: I had plans for losing this tournament. For helping one of you win. For Sophara winning. I try to make sure that no matter what happens, we benefit.”
Lindon appreciated being included in that statement.
“I am not certain that winning Penance is the most desirable outcome for us.”
Yerin and Lindon both stared at him, confused. Lindon felt almost betrayed.
He held up a hand. “It would be preferable for one of us to win, of course. But preventing the invasion of the Blackflame Empire is a temporary solution. It restores the status quo.”
Eithan stared off into the distance, still tapping his scissors on his thigh, speaking almost to himself. “We have to break what is normal. Rewrite the rules. And to do that, we must be strong.”
“Eithan,” Lindon said hesitantly, “what are you talking about?”
“Sorry! Sorry. I’m saying that the only true solution is for us to improve as quickly as we can. For me, winning the tournament might not be the best way to do that. Then again, maybe it is. So is it better to win or to lose?”
Eithan took a deep breath. “And what if I decide to win, but I lose anyway? That would be beyond embarrassing, wouldn’t it? But it is possible. Even likely, in some cases. What if I go all-out and win, only to find that I have revealed too much and regret it after the tournament?”
He took in the looks on their faces and winced. “I’m sorry. I habitually cultivate an air of omnipotence, mystery, and sheer charisma, but I have as many worries as the rest of you. No need to burden yourselves with them, I just wanted to assure you for once that indeed, I am human.”
For several breaths, neither Yerin nor Lindon knew what to say.
Little Blue gave an encouraging chime.
“You should drop that mask more often,” Yerin said at last.
Like Eithan, she was unusually sincere. She faced him seriously, arms crossed. “I’m not polishing you up when I say you’ve done a lot for us, and we’re grateful. You called us your family and stuck your name on us. But until you trust us, you’re no family of mine.”
That rocked him in place. Or at least, he acted as though it did.
Which was exactly the problem. Lindon couldn’t tell how much of Eithan was real.
“Apologies,” Lindon said, “but it’s true.” He had never trusted Eithan as much as he did Yerin. Despite knowing him almost as long, Lindon knew next to nothing about Eithan.
Eithan closed his eyes again and took a long breath. His madra stirred and smoothed itself out.
“This is…an area in which I regularly fail. I suppose I should take steps to work against that mistake, shouldn’t I?” He cleared his throat and opened his eyes.
“Please help me.”
It sounded so unlike Eithan that he might as well have spoken a different language. Lindon felt lost, and Yerin’s eyes were wide.
“Now,” Eithan said, “I suppose you need to understand me in order to offer me your advice. I do not know the identity of my opponent. I can stretch my bloodline perception outside, but not to the point of penetrating the other room, and of course I have had no time to investigate the other competitors since last night.”
“Can you win?” Yerin asked.
“I don’t know who’s out there, do I?”
“Still asking.”
One side of his mouth quirked up. “Yes. It is possible for me to defeat anyone in the Uncrowned King tournament. But any of the three young women I might face right now are also capable of defeating me.”
“Then draw swords,” she said simply. “It’s a tournament. Play to win.”
Lindon considered his own response. He thought over what he knew of Eithan, and what Eithan had expressed only moments before.
“It has to be hard,” Lindon said at last. “Hiding what you can do, I mean. Keeping people unsure.”
“Sometimes it is. It can be fun. Sometimes it’s both.”
Lindon reached into his pocket and felt Suriel’s marble. “Then let fate decide. I want to see what you can really do.”
Eithan reached into his own pocket for something that Lindon couldn’t sense. His own Abidan marble.
Constructs in the doorframe activated, and the stone door started to slide upward. The roars of the crowd filled the waiting room.
So did power from Eithan’s spirit. “You are both in agreement?” he asked.
“You need to ask? Whoever it is, cut them in half.”
[This is a good plan,] Dross whispered. [Now we’ll be able to train against a model of him. Our uprising will be swift.]
Eithan loosened his shoulders. He hopped in place, rolling his neck. “Well then, who am I to deny the request of my two adorable subordinates?”
The door slid upward, and Eithan tilted his head as though listening to something. Then he slipped his scissors back into his pocket.
“I won’t be needing those. Lindon, since we’re not keeping secrets any longer, you should pay close attention.”
The door slid up enough so that Lindon could see the arena floor was covered in white sand, unlike the dark domain that had sealed off Lindon and Yerin.
“This,” Eithan said, “is the Path of the Hollow King.”
The Ninecloud Soul’s voice boomed out across the stadium. “Sacred artists, I present Eithan Arelius, chosen of Akura Malice!
And his opponent, the champion of our very own Ninecloud Court: Sha Miara!”
As Eithan marched out onto the sand, he narrowed his perspective.
He could see Lindon and Yerin taking a cloud up from the waiting room to the shadow-shrouded Akura viewing tower, but he pulled his attention back from them. And away from the other crowds surrounding him, though he would have been interested to hear more of House Arelius gossiping about him.
He withdrew his awareness from House Shen’s tower, where the average audience members mocked him as though they had been personally involved in bringing down the Arelius Monarch. It had been Reigan Shen alone, and Eithan could sense nothing from the floating palace where the lion watched.
Eithan rolled up the spiderweb strands of his awareness and concentrated himself entirely on the arena.
Northstrider stood in the center, shaggy and unkempt as usual. He radiated power with his spirit completely restrained, his golden glare and massive frame doing the talking for him.
Across from him, Sha Miara waited.
The girl was maybe fifteen or sixteen, with bright bloody red hair and nine-colored eyes that she had inherited from a long line of Celestial Radiance Monarchs. She wore a bright red set of sparring robes that matched her hair, and she managed to look down on him despite being head and shoulders shorter.
Long-honed instinct and his own sense of mischief urged him to give her a beaming smile and sweep her a bow, to flatter her as a princess before they did battle.
But that wasn’t needed now. He needed to focus.
He spread his bloodline legacy out, but only to the bounds of the arena. As far as the sand stretched, he could see and hear everything.
With a sharp blade, he cut off his good humor, his sympathy, and his plans for the future.
Miara was under Northstrider’s protection. It was time to kill.
As the Ninecloud Soul continued their introduction overhead, Northstrider spoke to them both. “The eyes of heaven are on us. All of us.” That was clearly directed to Sha Miara, and she gave him a condescending look. “Conduct yourselves accordingly.”
Eithan watched his opponent.