“What do you mean?”
“Everyone thinks I have a death wish, you know? But I don’t want to die—dying is easy. No, I want to live, but getting close to death is the only way to feel alive. And once you do, it makes you realize that everything you were doing before wasn’t actually living. It was just making do. Call me crazy, but I think we do the best living when the stakes are high.”
“You’re crazy,” said Kell.
She laughed softly. “Who knows? Maybe the world’s gone crooked. Maybe you’re still possessed. Or maybe you just got a taste of what it really means to be alive. Take it from someone who’s had her fair share of close calls. You almost died, Kell. So now you know what it feels like to live. To fear for that life. To fight for it. And once you know, well, there’s no going back.”
His voice was unsteady. “What do I do?”
“I’m the wrong person to ask,” she said. “I just run away.”
“Running sounds good.”
“Then run,” she said. He stifled a laugh, but she was serious. “The thing about freedom, Kell? It doesn’t come naturally. Almost no one has it handed to them. I’m free because I fought for it. You’re supposed to be the most powerful magician in all the worlds. If you don’t want to be here, then go.”
The music picked up, and they came together, drew apart.
“I made Rhy a promise,” said Kell as they turned, carried along by the dance. “That I would stand at his side when he was king.”
She shrugged. “Last time I checked, he’s not on the throne yet. Look, I stay here because I have nothing to go back to. There’s no reason that once you leave, you can’t return. Maybe you simply need to stretch your legs. Live a little. See the world. Then you can come back and settle down, and you and Rhy can live happily ever after.”
He snorted.
“But, Kell …” she said, sobering, “… don’t do what I did.”
“You’re going to have to be more specific.”
She thought of Barron, the silver watch in the bottom of her coat. “If you decide to leave—when you decide to leave—don’t do it without saying good-bye.”
The music struck its final notes, and Kell spun Lila into his arms. Their bodies tangled, and both held their breath. The last time they’d embraced, they were bruised and bloody and about to be arrested. That had felt real; this felt like a fantasy.
Over Kell’s shoulder, Lila saw the Princess of Vesk at the edge of the room, surrounded by gentlemen, and staring daggers at her. Lila flashed a smile and let Kell lead her off the floor, between a pair of columns.
“So, Kamerov?” she said as they found a quiet place to talk.
His grip tightened on her. “No one knows. They can’t.”
She shot him a withering look. “Do I really strike you as the telling type?” she asked. Kell said nothing, only examined her with that strange two-toned gaze, as if he expected her to disappear. “So …” she said, plucking a glass of sparkling wine from a passing tray, “did you kill the real Kamerov?”
“What? Of course not. He’s a fiction.” His brow furrowed. “Did you kill the real Elsor?”
Lila shook her head. “He’s on a boat headed for Denolar. Or was it Delo—”
“Delonar?” snapped Kell, shaking his head. “Saints, what were you thinking?”
“I don’t know,” she said, honestly. “I don’t understand what I am, how I’m alive, what I can do. I guess I just wanted to see.”
“You didn’t have to enter the most visible tournament in the three empires to test your fledgling abilities.”
“But it’s been fun.”
“Lila,” he said softly, and for once, his voice didn’t sound angry. Tense, yes, but not mad. Had he ever said her name like that? It sounded almost like longing.
“Yes?” she asked, her breath tight.
“You have to withdraw.”
And just like that, the warmth between them shattered, replaced by the Kell she remembered, stubborn and righteous.
“No, I don’t,” she said.
“You can’t possibly continue.”
“I’ve made it this far. I’m not dropping out.”
“Lila—”
“What are you going to do, Kell? Have me arrested?”
“I should.”
“But I’m not Stasion Elsor,” she said, gesturing down to the ball gown. “I’m Delilah Bard.” Truth really was the best disguise. His frown deepened. “Come on, don’t be a sore loser.”
“I threw the match,” he snapped. “And even if I hadn’t, you can’t move on.”
“I can, and I will.”
“It’s too dangerous. If you defeat Rul, you’ll be in the final three. You’ll be unmasked. This ruse of yours might work from a distance, but do you honestly think no one will notice who you are—and who you’re not—if you show your face? Besides, I saw you in the ring today—”
“When I won?”
“When you faltered.”
“I’ve made it this far.”
“I felt your power slip. I saw the pain written on your face.”
“That had nothing to do with our match—”
“What happens if you lose control?”