“Don’t come back until they clear you,” she ordered, flatly. “Please.”
She shook her head, then turned to watch the other contestants. Most of them had definitely improved, although a couple seemed to be pushing the edges of the permissible. The spells they used weren’t lethal, but they were right on the edge ... used badly, they could kill. She ground her teeth in frustration, silently glad she wasn’t in the ring. Holding back when she’d been dueling with Casper had been harder than she cared to admit.
And no wonder the referees didn’t realize I gave him an opening deliberately, she thought, as another duel came to an end. An opening that only existed for a second wouldn’t be anything like long enough for them to think I did it on purpose.
The other two pairs of contestants were clearly made of sterner stuff. Two Fifth Years stood, far too close together for her comfort, and battered away at each other with a constant string of nasty hexes. Emily shook her head in disbelief as the duel intensified, wondering just what they were thinking. The one who lost their wards wouldn’t have a chance to dodge before they were stunned or frozen or ...
“And that’s a win,” Jacqui declared, as one contestant was thrown backwards and slammed into the wards. His opponent hit him with a stunner before he had a chance to recover from the impact. “Well done, Marti!”
“She must like him,” Cirroc muttered. “That wasn’t well done at all.”
Emily elbowed him. Marti was a fifth-year student. It would be unusual for Jacqui to know him, let alone show any interest in him. She could date someone a year below her if she wished, but it would turn her into a laughing stock. A girl shouldn’t be looking at a guy a year younger than her ...
Which isn’t entirely fair, Emily thought. Caleb is a year older than me.
The crowd didn’t seem any more inclined to leave as the first set of duels came to an end, leaving fourteen winners and sixteen losers. Emily checked to make sure the losers wanted to continue—no one wanted to leave, although the duelist who’d been blinded hadn’t returned from the healers—and then reshuffled the tokens as the duelists ate a quick snack. It was good thinking on their part, Emily noted. A duelist who ran out of magic in the first round would be utterly curb-stomped in the second.
“They want us back out there,” Cirroc said. He patted Emily’s shoulder. “You’re doing fine, so far.”
Emily shot him a nasty look—she wished she was somewhere else, anywhere else—and then led the contestants back onto the field. The crowd was still placing bets, now the odds were a little clearer. Emily wondered, sourly, just who was the favorite to win, then decided it was a stupid question. It would almost certainly be one of the Fifth Years.
“Those who win two rounds will go on to the final contest,” she said, her amplified voice booming over the crowd. It didn’t seem to do much for the racket. She honestly didn’t know how sports announcers did it. Merely saying two lines—and not very clever lines—left her feeling drained and exposed. “Those who lose two rounds will not continue!”
She gritted her teeth as the roar grew louder, then carefully recast the spell. It didn’t seem to have worked properly, much to her irritation. The wards covering the arena were wearing it down, piece by piece. She made a mental note to suggest it be changed before the final contest, then turned to watch the first contestants enter the rings. Her eyes narrowed as she realized Adana was going to face Frieda.
Crap, she thought. Someone was going to say she’d helped Frieda. She was sure of it, even though Frieda was two years older than Adana and a Martial Magic student besides. This is not going to end well.
She turned, half-hoping to swap rings with Cirroc, but his contestants had already started hurling curses at each other. Jacqui and Cerise were deliberately not looking at her, as if they wanted to see what would happen. Emily bit down on a nasty curse, then signaled the contestants to get ready. Maybe it wouldn’t look as bad as she feared. Frieda shouldn’t have any trouble stomping Adana into the ground.
Don’t make it too rough, please, Emily pleaded, silently. She tried to meet Frieda’s eyes, but the younger girl was keeping her eyes firmly fixed on Adana. It was what Emily would have done, she knew. It didn’t make it any easier. Please ...
She blew her whistle. Frieda opened the match with a powerful hex that was borderline illegal, trying to smash Adana’s wards into fragments before she could muster a response. Adana jumped to one side, avoiding the hex; she threw back a series of her own, some of which seemed to sink harmlessly into the ground. Frieda’s eyes narrowed with cold fury, an instant before she launched a second hex. Adana seemed torn, just for a second, between trying to block it and dodging, again. And then she leapt out of the way.
Good move, Emily noted, coolly. Adana wasn’t stupid enough to try to engage Frieda directly. Keeping her distance was her only hope of prolonging the fight. She clearly learnt from the others too.
The duel grew more intense as the two duelists closed. Frieda blocked everything Adana hurled in her direction, rather than trying to dodge. Her face was growing darker and darker with frustration, even though Adana hadn’t come close to scoring a hit. Emily felt a flicker of sympathy, combined with a nagging worry that something wasn’t quite right. The magic field was shifting ...
The ground suddenly bulged with green creepers, reaching up towards Frieda. Emily gaped—the roar of the crowd suddenly cut off—as the creepers lunged forward, grabbing hold of Frieda’s legs and her left arm, yanking her down to the ground. Adana had modified a quick-grow spell, then turned it into an unconventional weapon. Emily was torn between being impressed and horrified. Frieda wasn’t going to like that at all. It wasn’t technically cheating, but it was certainly bending the rules. And humiliating as hell.
Frieda’s magic flared, burning through the creepers. Burning ashes flew in all directions as raw power tore the roots from the ground and incinerated them. Adana struck Frieda with a hex a second later, leaving her stumbling backwards against the wards. Frieda’s face contorted with fury; magic crackled around her, burning bright with rage. She gestured ...
... And Emily realized, a fraction of a second too late, what was about to happen.
“No,” she shouted.
It was too late. A wave of force picked Adana up and slammed her hard against the wards ...
... And her body fell to the ground and lay still.
Chapter Thirty-Two
FOR A HORRIFYING MOMENT, THE WORLD seemed to freeze.