And then Rhy stepped forward, managing to muster a shadow of his usual charm as he brought the gold amplifier to his lips.
“Welcome!” he called out. “Glad’ach! Sasors! What a tournament it has been. It is only fitting that our three great empires find themselves here, represented equally by three great champions. From Faro, a twin by birth, without equal in the ring, the fiery Tos-an-Mir.” Whistles filled the air as the Faroan bowed, her gold mask winking in the light. “From Vesk, a beast of a fighter, a wolf of a man, Rul!” In the arena, Rul himself let out a howl, and the Veskans in the crowd took up the call. “And of course, from our own Ames, the captain of the sea, the prince of power, Alucard!”
The applause was thunderous, and even Kell brought his hands together, albeit slowly, and without much noise.
“The rules of this final round are simple,” continued Rhy, “because there are few. This is no longer a game of points. A magician’s armor is composed of twenty-eight plates, some broad targets, others small and hard to hit. Today, the last one with plates unbroken wins the crown. So cheer your three magicians, because only one will leave this ring the champion!”
The trumpets blared, the orbs fell, and Rhy retreated into the platform’s shadow as the match began
Below, the magicians became a blur of elements: Rul’s earth and fire; Tos-an-Mir’s fire and air; Alucard’s earth, air, and water. Of course he’s a triad, thought Kell grimly.
It took less than a minute for Alucard to land the first blow on Rul’s shoulder. It took more than five for Rul to land the second on Alucard’s shin. Tos-an-Mir seemed content to let the two men strike each other from the books, until Alucard landed an icy blow to the back of her knees, and then she joined the fray.
The air in the royal booth was suffocating. Rhy was silent, slumped tiredly in the shadow of the balcony’s awning, while Kell stood vigilantly beside the king, whose gaze never wavered from the match.
Below, Tos-an-Mir moved like a gold-masked shadow, dancing on the air, while Rul loped and lunged in his predatory lupine way. Alucard still moved with a noble’s poise, even as his elements arced and crashed around him in a storm. The sounds of the fight were lost beneath the swell of cheers, but every point was marked by an explosion of light, a burst of brightness that only drove the crowd to a higher pitch.
And then, mercifully, the tension in the royal booth began to ease. The mood lightened, like the air after a storm, and Kell felt dizzy with relief. Attendants brought tea. Prince Col made a joke, and Maxim laughed. The queen complimented Lord Sol-in-Ar’s magician.
By the end of the hour, Rul was out of plates, sitting on the stone floor looking dazed while Alucard and Tos-an-Mir danced around each other, crashing together like swords before breaking apart. And then, slowly but surely, Alucard Emery began to lose. Kell felt his spirits lift, though Rhy knocked his shoulder when he went so far as to cheer for one of Tos-an-Mir’s hits. He rallied, closing the gap, and they fell into a stalemate.
At last, she got behind Alucard and under his guard. She moved to shatter the last of the his plates with a knifelike gust, but at the last instant, he twisted out of its path and a lash of water split her final piece of armor.
And just like that, it was over.
Alucard Emery had officially won.
Kell let out a groan as the stadium erupted into noise, raining down cheers and roses and silver pennants, and filling the air with a name.
“Alucard! Alucard! Alucard!”
And even though Rhy had the good taste not to whoop and shout like the rest of the crowd, Kell could see him beaming proudly as he stepped forward to formally announce the victor of the Essen Tasch.
Sanct, thought Kell. Emery was about to become even more insufferable.
Lord Sol-in-Ar addressed Tos-an-Mir and the crowd in Faroan, Princess Cora praised Rul and the gathered Veskans, and at last Prince Rhy dismissed the stands with promise of parties and closing ceremonies, the rest of the day a cause for celebration.
The king smiled and even clapped Kell on the back as the Maresh family made their way back to the palace, a train of cheerful subjects in their wake.
And as they climbed the palace stairs, and stepped inside the flower-strewn hall, it seemed as if everything would be all right.
And then Kell saw the queen hold Rhy back on the landing with a word, a question, and by the time he turned back to see why they’d stopped, the doors were swinging shut, blocking out the morning light and the sounds of the city. In the dim foyer, Kell caught the glint of metal as the king shed the illusion of kindness and said only two words, not even directed at Kell, but at the six guards that were circling loosely.
Two words that made Kell wish he’d never come back.
“Arrest him.”
VII