Page 14 of Mistake of Magic
“Helpful as this is,” Coal says, “if you keep it up, the mortal will be walking into the arena naked.”
A wave of heat washes over Shade’s skin as he sets me back on the floor, turning me reluctantly over to Coal’s care.
Having laid out various pieces of leather armor that I assume somehow fit onto a body, Coal motions me to him. He takes one look at my befuddled expression and, with typical Coal efficiency, manhandles me into a loose stance, my arms raised slightly from my sides. His competent hands slide over my back, smoothing out my shirt before laying a piece of padded leather atop my shoulders, securing it in place. A trail of warmth stays on my skin long after his fingers leave, my body longing to lean into Coal’s. I turn my head to look at Tye instead, waiting for the redhead to make one of his signature comments.
He doesn’t. Tye’s eyes, typically resting comfortably on my breasts or hips, are now drawn intently to my neck. A four-corded knot. Four, not five. I rub the skin. “You’d think a warrior quint would at least get something mildly ferocious for a rune,” I say to Tye. “At this point, a mosquito would be an improvement.”
“Are you listening?” Coal asks.
“When did you start talking?”
Growling, Coal grasps my hips and twists me around so he can tie the back laces of my new chest protector. His strong fingers move efficiently, tying the reinforced leather just tight enough that I can still breathe. “The entire trial will take place in the Light, so you need not worry about getting sucked into the Gloom during the fighting. Tye will carry our flag and draw the opponents’ attention while Shade and I go after the enemy flag. You’ll stay with River. Once we have control of the flag, the trial ends.”
“All right.” I nod. “We win if we get control of the flag. How do we lose?”
“We don’t. We’re the most combat-ready quint on this mountain,” Coal says. “But the three theoretical options are losing our flag, surrender, or death. The weapons are dulled, so the latter rarely happens in the first trial unless by the loser’s pride. Losing is inevitable for one side or the other, but the humiliation of surrender is something else. Many, especially in the heat of the moment, stop thinking clearly.”
“There are so many problems with this set-up, I don’t even know where to begin,” I say.
“Are you ready?” River asks, coming up beside me to check the buckles Coal just finished tightening. A wicked-looking sword is strapped down River’s back. Though its edges are dulled in deference to the trial, the sheer weight and size of it would be enough to crack open a skull.
I put on as brave a face as I can muster. “Of course.”
“You are a terrible liar.” River crouches beside me—which, given how large he is, pretty much brings his face in line with mine. The uniform stretches tight over his muscled thighs and biceps, and I have to force my eyes away. The male’s hands, calloused from weapons training, are warm against my cheeks. He holds my face in place so I can’t look away, but I’d be helpless to look away anyway. His deep gray eyes and the smooth planes of his face are entrancing this close up. His scent washes over me as if on purpose, calming my frayed nerves. Each of them, in their own way, is doing his best to calm my nerves. “The most important thing in that arena is you, Leralynn. Not the bloody flag. We aren’t going to set a record or show a third trial what three hundred years of field experience does for a quint. We are going to walk in there and come out safely. With you. Understand?”
I nod, the knot in my stomach easing slightly, but only until the sounding of a gong summons us to the arena sands.
9
Lera
Iblink at the sun, which is brighter and hotter than it should be, the sand that spreads into a neat forever. With its smooth bowl-shaped sides, the three-hundred-foot arena has no clear demarcation of end and beginning, the wards designed to contain magic making it impossible to see beyond the sand’s edges. The council is watching us from the upper rim of the arena, I know that much. The whole damn complement of the Citadel is likely watching. But from down here, it looks as though we’re alone.
Us and the orange-clad quint filing in through the door on the far end. Malikai and his quint brothers. From this distance, I can’t see their expressions, but I hope the prospect of facing Coal again is turning their bowels to mush. A bright orange flag, a sibling to the dark red one in Tye’s hands, wavers amidst the males in Malikai’s quint as they affix it to the tallest warrior’s arm.
A second gong sounds, and Klarissa’s disembodied voice echoes over the arena. “The trial has begun.”
Immediately, a wind picks up, raising a storm of sand to pelt our unprotected faces.
I lift an arm to shield myself, but a casual pulse of power from River has the sand suddenly bouncing off an invisible shield, the grains streaking back down to their yellow sea instead of filling my eyes. “Nice trick,” I say, gazing around now that I can see again.
“The sand is about to get worse, if they are smart,” River says, pointing into the distance, where the five males are gathering themselves together and advancing toward us like harbingers of doom. “The key for a new quint is to learn to combine their power.”
I wait for the males around me to draw their weapons and become otherwise menacing, but the four seem totally at ease. I study their tall, lithe bodies and open faces, seeking the darkness that surely must lurk beneath their skin. I detect only calm. As if all this is little more than a dull but necessary wait before a meal.
The four of them are even chatting. No, not chatting. Bickering.
“It will be fine,” Tye says, his green eyes glittering as he yanks the flag from Shade’s hand. “It will be more than fine—it will be amusing.”
“It will stop being amusing when you forget what the bloody hell you are supposed to be doing and decide to hump Malikai’s leg.”
“First, my tiger doesn’t hump legs,” Tye says, sounding offended. “I think you’re confusing cats withdogs. And second, I don’t need to remember what I’m doing once I shift—if your hands aren’t growing out of your ass, you can tie the flag to me, and then all I need to do is run. Unless... Does my feline make you feel inadequate, Shade?”
I glance back toward Malikai’s quint. They are a quarter of the way across the arena now and are, as River predicted, joining hands. My stomach tightens. “Children,” I say, my voice pushing between Shade and Tye, “pay attention.”
The words have just left my mouth when a new blast of air and sand pounds against us, the assault harsh enough to make me stumble. Wind whistles in my ears, echoing off the stone walls of the arena. I can hear the other quint shouting at each other, but not what they’re saying.
River grabs on to my shoulder to keep me upright.
