Page 56

CHAPTER

Fifty-Six

T HE FIRST THING Ruko saw as the bell rang was his mother.

She had timed it perfectly, waiting until the last moment to take her seat. Reserved specially for her in the centre of the sixth row, it placed her directly in Ruko’s line of sight.

The bell rang, and he saw her. He pretended he had not. An act that convinced everyone except the two people that mattered—Yasila and the Visitor. They both caught the minute hesitation, followed by a quick push forward to cover it.

Ruko had spent years strengthening his peripheral vision, and now it worked against him. As the fight pressed on, he could not help but catch glimpses of his mother, a jigsaw puzzle he didn’t want to solve. Her ephemeral, sea-green dress. The loops of pearls in her hair. Her quiet, patient smile.

She wants me dead , he thought. And then, with sudden clarity: She has orchestrated it.

Yasila was flanked by two hooded members of the Dragon contingent. Her old enemies, now allies, unified in their desire to destroy him. The Visitor kicked him hard in the stomach, sending him reeling back. His mother applauded, cheering on the man sent to kill him. The man who had once broken Ruko’s arm, for trying to protect her.

He could be forgiven. The man who threatened to kill her children.

But not me. I must be the monster, for ever.

It didn’t hurt him, he wouldn’t let it. But her presence kept him from reaching that perfect, unassailable place he always found, deep within a fight. An immersion so complete, he could disappear within it. He, Ruko, ceased to exist. He became a weapon of pure will. But not today, when it mattered most. Not with his mother distracting him, there on the borders of his mind and vision. Would she use her binding spell? Was she close enough? Would she dare? He thought not, but he couldn’t be sure.

Which was precisely why she was sitting there, smiling, her hands folded neatly in her lap. He was fighting not one opponent but two.

They were less than a minute into the round when Ruko realised he was going to die. The Visitor had hidden his skills well these past few days. Now they were revealed. Even stripped of his powers he was a master, his technique honed over decades. But what made him unbeatable was the blazing intensity of his purpose. Nothing mattered more to him in all the world than Ruko’s death.

Am I so terrible?

He blocked a deadly strike to the throat, but missed the jab that followed—a reeling blow to the temple. His mother clapped.

He fought back, but it was like fighting quicksilver. By the time the bell rang, Ruko was battered and bleeding, panting from the effort of staying on his feet, his tunic soaked with sweat.

The crowd was near silent as the Visitor left the platform to choose his weapons. Death was circling the square, everyone could feel it. Excitement passed through the stalls, spiky and restless. Some abandoned their seats, treading on their neighbours’ toes in their haste to leave. Most stayed where they were. This fight was always going to end this way. Foolish, really, that they’d ever thought differently. A Visitor.

“Do you see his mother over there?” someone whispered. “Sitting with the Dragons?”

“She wants him dead.” For that unspeakable thing he did. “Who can blame her?”

Rivenna was waiting at the bottom of the platform as Ruko descended. “No,” he said, as she started to speak. The abbess retreated, ordering her contingent back with her. She had seen this mood in her Guardian-son before. Best to let him be. Trust in the eight years of intense training she had given him. But for the first time, she looked anxious.

Ruko peeled off his tunic and rinsed out his bleeding mouth with water. His chest was sore, his ribs ached. The only thing that had saved him so far was his combat-honed physique. That would not be enough, come the next round.

He needed a new strategy, fast.

Panicking would not help. Focus. He sat down, his back against the weapons chest, and closed his eyes. Found the voice that was always waiting for him; the only thing he trusted.

—Why is he winning?

Because he has to. He gave up his powers for this moment. It is his sole reason for being.

—How do I defeat him?

Find something you need more. What do you need, Ruko?

—The throne. As Ruko answered he remembered the message Benna had brought him, from Yana. You don’t want to rule the empire, not really. You just think you do, because that’s what your father wanted. —The throne, he answered again, more firmly. But for the first time, he wondered.

The voice cut through again, pushing him to search deeper. To find the truth that could save him. What do you need, Ruko?

Ruko lowered his head. His mind was blank, his heart was blank, his soul was blank. He stood upon the golden rope and felt the void, all around him.

—I don’t know.

Then you will die.

Ruko opened his eyes.

He opened the weapons chest and took out his sword. He had a hundred phrases he could tell himself, positive affirmations he had learned specifically for this moment. They wouldn’t work.

He headed back up the steps, a condemned man. The Visitor was waiting on the other side of the platform, twin blades in hand. His wrists turned smoothly, carving neat figures of eight in the air.

“Why?” Ruko asked him. In defeat, he found himself curious. “Why does this matter to you so much? What has she promised you?” His mind whirred, answering his own question. What could Yasila offer the Dragons, but the one thing they had always wanted. The Dragonscale she stole from them. Ruko huffed in disbelief. “You don’t really think she’ll hand it over, do you? Her one hold over you?”

The Visitor moved into a hanging stance, and waited for the bell. If you seek answers, do not ask a Dragon.

Ruko lifted his gaze to the stalls, searching for his mother. She stared into the middle distance, hands still folded in her lap. He felt an ache he had not felt in years. Could she give him nothing? Not one glance, before he died?

A vendor leaned into Yasila’s row, offering a tray of snacks. The hooded Dragon seated next to the princess pushed the girl away, back towards the aisle.

No one ever looks at a servant.

Ruko looked. He saw her. And broke into a smile.

Benna grinned back and waved. Her hair was tucked up in a cap, and she was wearing spectacles as a disguise. She pointed at herself, and jogged on the spot. I escaped, thank you! Then she pointed at him, mimed a very bad double punch, and gave a thumbs-up. Mouthed: “Amazing” and gave another thumbs-up.

It was absurd. Wildly inappropriate. And hilarious. Yasila staring mid-distance, cool and regal and unforgiving. Benna doing what appeared to be a jig of encouragement in the aisle next to her. Ruko looked between the two women, then snorted back a laugh, covering his mouth with the back of his hand.

He used to laugh like that, before. He’d forgotten.

“Team Ruko!” Benna shouted, cupping her hand to her mouth. Then she scarpered down the stairs with her tray and vanished, like a dream.

That was what he needed.