“Stay still,” Emily shouted. The fury on Frieda’s face was terrifying. She honestly wasn’t sure if the younger girl would obey. The arena wards weren’t designed to stop someone in their tracks, even if it was necessary. “Stay still!”
She ran forward, heading straight for Adana. The younger girl’s body lay on the grass, unmoving. Emily heard others running towards her as she skidded to a halt and knelt down next to the broken body. Adana was alive, but barely. Her breath came in ragged gasps, the sound tearing at Emily’s heart. There was no visible damage, save for a trickle of blood leaking from her mouth, but there was clearly severe internal damage. Emily had seen a force punch crack or shatter ribs. Frieda had hit Adana far harder.
Stasis, she thought. She was so shaken it took her two tries to cast the spell. Get her to the healers, let them work on her ...
She turned to look at Frieda as two of the healers arrived, levitating Adana’s body into the air and steering her towards the school. Frieda looked ... odd, her face curiously blank. Her hands were clenched, as if she expected to fight, yet there was no anger on her face. One of her plaits had come loose, slowly coming apart. Her trousers had been torn, revealing bare legs. Emily could see nasty bruises on her upper thigh.
Gordian appeared, looking grim. “What happened?”
Emily tried to think of an answer, but couldn’t. Frieda had panicked and lashed out and Adana ... had been seriously wounded. Perhaps even mortally wounded. Everyone had known there was a risk of serious injury, of course, but ... she shook her head. There was going to be trouble. Frieda should never have been allowed to remain in the contest, not after she’d hurt Marian. Anyone who wanted to make political hay out of the whole incident wouldn’t hesitate to point that out as often as possible.
“Sergeant Miles, take Frieda back to my office and hold her there,” Gordian ordered, when Emily said nothing. “Remain with her until I arrive.”
“Yes, sir,” Sergeant Miles said. Emily hadn’t even seen him arrive. He must have been in the audience, heroically refraining from commenting on the show-offs taking the field. “I’ll see to it.”
Frieda’s face didn’t change as Sergeant Miles caught hold of her arm, leading her firmly out of the arena. The crowd booed loudly, despite angry shouts from supervising tutors. Emily felt a wave of disgust, mingled with grim amusement. The dueling league’s tournaments often ended with one party seriously injured—or dead. Dueling was a blood sport and only a fool would claim differently. The only advantage it held over hunting was that the two duelists were usually fairly evenly matched.
And the ones who appear weaker can come up with new tactics, Emily thought. She looked at the ashes on the field. Adana’s creepers had been an unpleasant surprise, one that had come far too close to working. Emily would never have dared waste magic on something like that in the middle of a real fight, but she had to admit it had proved effective. It just hadn’t been good enough to win the fight before Frieda broke free. She panicked and ...
Gordian cleared his throat. “The contest is ended, for the moment,” he said. His voice sounded strong, but she could hear an undertone of ... something. He’d certainly played a role in the whole disaster, even if it hadn’t been his fault. His enemies would not hesitate to capitalize on the blunder. “Go to the infirmary until ... until the healers have finished, then report to my office. Cirroc can clean up the mess.”
Poor bastard, Emily thought.
But she knew she should be grateful. The last thing she wanted was to work on the field when Adana was fighting for her life. God alone knew what would happen to Frieda. Gordian would need a scapegoat if the politics turned savage and Frieda was the obvious candidate. A young common-born girl from the mountains had few friends in the seats of power. King Randor was hardly likely to use some of his political capital to save Frieda’s life.
Unless he got something from me in exchange, Emily thought. But what would he want?
She nodded curtly to Gordian, then walked over to Cirroc and told him he was in charge. The dark-skinned boy didn’t seem too affected, much to Emily’s annoyance. But then, he had been planning to become a professional duelist. He’d been taking part in contests ever since he came into his magic. Someone being injured—even killed—was hardly new for him.
“I’ll take care of it,” he promised. “You go see to your little friend.”
Emily swallowed several nasty rejoinders, then turned and walked back into the castle. The corridors were deserted, thankfully. Most of the students had gone to the arena and those who hadn’t were taking advantage of the peace and quiet to study. She centered her mind as best as she could, trying to gather her thoughts. Frieda had panicked ...
... And Adana had been badly injured, perhaps killed.
Adana has powerful relatives, Emily thought, numbly. She hesitated in front of the infirmary, unsure if she wanted to go in. What will they say if she ends up dead—or crippled?
The thought mocked her. Adana probably wouldn’t be crippled, not physically. Frieda hadn’t hit her with anything that might have lingering effects. But ... what if she’d cracked her head against the wards? Or ... anything physical could be mended by magic, given time and money. Mental damage was almost always beyond repair. The shock of being so badly wounded would be disastrous.
She pushed her hand against the door, stepping into the infirmary. It was empty, save for Melissa. The redhead sat on a bench, her face pale and wan. Adana was her cousin, Emily remembered bitterly. Melissa might have been disowned, but she still loved her blood relatives. And her tutors wouldn’t let her operate on anyone related to her.
“She’s in there,” Melissa said, quietly. Emily wondered, grimly, if Melissa knew what had happened. She sounded too tired to be angry. “We have to wait.”
Emily sat down next to her, feeling cold. Adana was injured, perhaps dying ... how much of it was her fault? Perhaps she should have kicked Frieda out of the dueling club. Or perhaps she should have rigged the selection so Frieda faced someone a little closer to her in terms of power and training. Or perhaps ... hindsight mocked her, as always. It was easy to see how a crisis could have been avoided, in retrospect. It wasn’t so easy to avoid it beforehand.
Melissa said nothing as they waited, leaving Emily alone with her thoughts. It was creepy, in many ways, just how well she knew the other girl. Emily had lost most of the memories she’d pulled from Melissa’s mind, but enough remained for her to understand Melissa better than anyone else. She loved Markus, yet she missed her siblings and cousins. Emily had never really understood what it meant to have brothers and sisters until she’d peered through Melissa’s eyes. The mixture of love and annoyance, of understanding and irritation ... she felt a hot stab of bitter envy. She would have liked siblings too.