CHAPTER 27
I STARTED FORWARD. Avan held me back, his other hand gripping my waist.
“No,” he said so softly that his words reached only my ears. “Look around. This room is filled with Watchmen.”
I couldn’t look around. Reev filled my vision. His reassuring back; the breadth of his shoulders; his hair, shorter now, curled around his collar.
I tried to wrench free of Avan’s grasp, but Reev was already moving away. He followed the other sentinels through an entryway. Panic rattled my rib cage. He was getting away. He was leaving again. I had to stop him.
Strong hands seized my shoulders and spun me around. Avan’s dark eyes met mine. He smoothed down my hair, his fingers cupping my face.
“Kai,” he whispered. “Get ahold of yourself. We’ve got time.”
Another hand waved tentatively at me. “Nel, you okay?”
It was Grene. I pushed away from Avan and drew in a slow breath. And then again. I had almost reached for the threads to delay Reev. I could have blown our cover. I turned to face Grene.
“I’m just . . . a little tired,” I said lamely. I looked at her chin to avoid her eyes.
“Well, don’t let it interfere with your match,” Grene said. “We’re scored as a team.”
“Maybe you can nap after Avan’s fight,” Tariza suggested.
I doubted I could sleep at all now that I knew Reev was within reach.
A man in a high-collared black tunic and green cravat appeared from the entryway through which Reev had left. He moved into the center of the room, clasped his hands at his waist, and scanned the cadets.
The chatter stopped.
“Welcome, cadets, to the first round of the Tournament,” he said, his thick brows drawn together into a severe line. He had a nasally voice, made more pronounced by how loudly he was talking. The White Court really needed to find a way to make announcements without shouting. “This marks another year in which our young warriors rise to the duty of defending our great city. Let us once again give thanks to Kahl Ninurta I, who gathered the scattered peoples of the land, stricken and floundering in the dark, and built them a haven. The only mahjo to survive the devastation, who dedicated his life and his magic to restoring order and providing safety behind the protection of our mighty walls.”
Avan and I shared exasperated looks. We already knew the story. Every Ninurtan did. It was retold every year on Founding Day.
More than two hundred years ago, Kahl Ninurta I—who Irra had referred to as Conquest and claimed was the same person still ruling today—had led survivors of the Mahjo War into the ruins of an abandoned city and declared it his own.
I glanced around. Some of the cadets looked bored, but others clung to his words. I wondered what they would think if they knew other mahjo were still around, enslaved by the Kahl.
“Kahl Ninu thanks you for your service,” the man continued. “All matches will be overseen by a jury of sentinels. The sentinels may award the victory to either opponent based on skill and execution, regardless of the match’s winner. Do your best, and you will succeed.” He paused for dramatic effect before announcing, “Cadets, let the Tournament begin!”
The cadets cheered. I pumped my fist so I wouldn’t stand out.
Once everyone had quieted down again, Avan led our team over to a bench along the wall. My mind flashed through scenarios: confronting Reev, rescuing him, hugging him, talking to him. I had to force myself to stop, to think of nothing, to focus only on the flicker of the candlelight inside the curling metal sconce across the room.
Tariza and Grene talked excitedly about something I didn’t care to overhear. Avan sat close enough that his shoulder warmed mine. I let his touch anchor me in the moment instead of reeling forward to chase after Reev in my mind.
A few minutes later, a Watchman called for Avan. We stood with him, offering encouraging pats on the back. The Watchman ushered Avan through the entryway, while the three of us were directed toward a separate exit.
We walked down a hallway and then emerged in an outdoor arena. Our viewing box was at ground level directly in front of the fighting area, sectioned off by a waist-high partition. Three other cadets occupied a similar box across the arena.
The arena itself wasn’t much larger than Irra’s courtyard, with high walls that cut us off from the other matches. A mass of yellow clouds provided our only ceiling. About ten feet in front of me, Avan stood with his back to us, his feet apart and shoulders relaxed. In seats across the arena I spotted Reev and the two sentinels from the prep room.
Like the other sentinels, Reev was dressed all in dark leather. Practical pieces of clothing that would offer some protection and movement. He looked far too much like them.
I pressed my palm to my racing heart. Reev was watching the two in the arena. It was hard to read his face from here, but I didn’t see recognition. He knew Avan. He had to recognize him. Reev was smart, though. He was probably pretending so he wouldn’t give Avan away.
Look at me. I wanted him to see me so badly.
Then he did. He looked right at me.
Reev held my gaze for the span of a breath. My body went numb. Then his eyes slid away as easily as if he’d been looking at a stranger.
I bit down on the insides of my cheeks, letting the physical pain override the ache in my chest. Reev was pretending. He had always been good at hiding his thoughts. Even from me.
He had recognized me. Of course he had.
I had to get Reev alone.
A voice boomed around the arena, and we looked up to see the announcer, a plump woman in a red-and-white tunic, standing on a platform jutting from the wall. “Match number six: Elsin versus Savorn.”
She struck a bell to signal the beginning of the match. I searched for Avan’s opponent, angry with myself that I hadn’t bothered to check sooner.
He was a young man, similar in build to Avan, with dark-red curls. I wasn’t sure what to make of him. He sized up Avan as they circled each other.
Elsin attacked first. They were both fast on their feet, blocking and striking and unable to get in a clean hit as they moved around. Elsin dodged a kick and then stepped in for a punch. Avan blocked, grabbing Elsin’s wrist and twisting it around to plant a knee in his back.
My attention darted between the fight and Reev. Reev watched the match with complete focus. I’d seen the way he was at work, when he had to be menacing to ward off the desperate folks who haunted the docks. But this was different. Colder. Emptier.
He couldn’t already be rebranded. Irra had said whatever Ninu did would take months.
Tariza leaned over. “What are you so worried about? Savorn is winning.”
I glanced back at Avan. Elsin lay on his stomach, his nose bleeding into the packed dirt of the arena floor. Avan had him pinned, his arms secured painfully behind him. A layer of dirt covered them both.
The bell sounded again. Avan released Elsin, and Elsin slumped into the dirt with a groan. His chest moved with rapid breaths, and blood still oozed from his broken nose.
Avan straightened and dusted off his tunic.
Tariza and Grene whooped, shouting “Savorn!” and pumping their fists. I tried to smile for Avan’s sake, but his triumphant grin slipped a fraction when he saw me.
“Nel, come on!” Grene tugged my arm, and I reluctantly went with them through the corridor. I took in one last glimpse of Reev before the doors blocked my view. He hadn’t even glanced my way.
After a hearty round of congratulations, Tariza announced he was going to train, and Grene wanted to explore the arena grounds.
“Want to come with me?” she asked, turning her wide blue eyes on Avan. When she realized I wasn’t going to run off the way Tariza had, she glanced at me and added, “You, too, of course.”
“I need to talk to Savorn about something.”
“We’ll see you back here at three for Nel’s match,” Avan said.
Grene looked embarrassed. “Oh, okay! Sounds great.”
We waited until she’d cleared out with an energetic wave. More cadets streamed in for the next round of matches. It didn’t look like Reev was returning, so we finally left. We found a quiet alcove down the hall, and Avan pulled me inside.
“Reev didn’t recognize us,” he said.
My jaw hurt from clenching it so tightly. “He was pretending.”
“Kai,” Avan said.
It made me angry the way he said my name, as if I was something delicate. Breakable. After everything we’d been through, he should have known better. I wasn’t weak, and I wasn’t giving up, especially not with Reev right here in front of me.
“You have to consider the possibility—”
“No,” I said louder. I jabbed a finger against his chest. “And don’t you dare, either. I just need to get him alone.”
Avan regarded me. Then he nodded. “Okay. How do you plan on doing that?”
I scowled. “He saw us. He’ll come looking for me.”
Avan’s blank expression was infuriating. “You’re right,” he said, but I couldn’t tell if he really believed me or not. “We should make it easier for him by learning where everything is. I’m going to poke around. Join me?”
“I’m tired. I’m going to my room,” I lied.
“If you want to be alone, just say so,” he told me, which made me drop my gaze guiltily. “And be careful.”
Before he turned away, I touched his arm.
“Do you think Mason made it out all right?”
“He’s probably having breakfast in Etu Gahl as we speak. He’s not the one you should be worrying about.”
True, but it made me feel better that he believed Mason was safe.
I nodded. “Nice match, by the way. Are you hurt?” I already knew the answer but figured I should ask. Whenever Avan came to terms with the fact that he was mahjo, I hoped he would talk to me about it. I could tell him that it wasn’t so bad being different.
Avan gave me his crooked smile. “Not a scratch.”
Instead of going to my room, I did what Avan had suggested and wandered around the facility until noon. Unfortunately, Reev was nowhere to be found.
Cadets lingered everywhere. From what I knew of the Tournament, only a handful made it to the final rounds. According to Irra, more than a hundred cadets entered the Tournament. The judges culled half during the preliminary brackets. After that, another half were eliminated in teams until they reached the single-elimination matches, which were presided over by Kahl Ninu himself.
Mahjo naturally rose to the top, making it easy for Kahl Ninu to award them the rank of sentinel. The citizens of the White Court didn’t seem to know what becoming a sentinel really meant. The sacrifices required. Grene had said they weren’t allowed to see their families anymore, but had she ever questioned why Kahl Ninu had sent her aunt into the Outlands in the first place?
I returned to Zora Hall and headed to the back entrance where Avan and I had sneaked in. The alley where we’d emerged from the sewer was empty, but I made a sweep of the area. Then I reached down and heaved the manhole cover from its position. The top of the cover had a looping design engraved into the metal. It looked like flower petals extending from the Ninurtan emblem in the middle.
With a grunt, I flipped over the cover, careful to grasp the rim before it could clatter on the ground. The other side bore the same design, except instead of the emblem, there was what looked like an elaborate A, but I doubted it was a letter. It matched one of the designs carved into Mason’s collar—a mark or sigil of some kind that Irra had added to sever the link with Kahl Ninu.
If Mason’s information proved accurate—and he had yet to fail us—then Irra’s spies would see my signal. In twenty-four hours, we would meet here and an escort would see us out.
I should have talked to Avan before going ahead with the signal, but his skepticism over Reev annoyed me. Lack of faith wasn’t going to get my brother out of here. I was.
Now it was simply a matter of finding him. Reev was probably still overseeing matches, so I’d have to keep checking the prep room or try to locate the sentinel quarters before lights-out.
As soon as I talked to him, things would be okay. I would get him to the sewer and out of Ninurta. Irra would be able to help him, the same way he’d helped Mason and all the other hollows.
Reev would be okay. I knew it. I clutched that certainty close—it was the only thing I had left.