The match was over.

And she had won.

Lila’s legs went weak, and she fought the urge to sink to the cold stone floor.

Sweat streamed down her neck, and her hands were scraped raw. Her head buzzed with energy, and she knew that as soon as the high faded, everything would hurt like hell, but right now, she felt incredible.

Invincible.

Sar got to her feet, took a step toward her, and held out a hand that swallowed Lila’s when she took it. Then the Veskan vanished into her tunnel, and Lila turned toward the royal platform to offer the prince a bow.

The gesture caught halfway when she saw Kell at Rhy’s shoulder, looking windblown and flushed. Lila managed to finish the bow, one hand folded against her heart. The prince applauded. Kell only cocked his head. And then she was ushered out on a wave of cheers and the echo of “Stasion! Stasion! Stasion!”

Lila crossed the arena with slow, even steps, escaping into the darkened corridor.

And there she sank to her knees and laughed until her chest hurt.

VI

“You missed quite a match,” said Rhy. Stasion Elsor had vanished, and the stadium began to empty. The first round was over. Thirty-six had become eighteen, and tomorrow, eighteen would become nine.

“Sorry,” said Kell. “It’s been a busy day.”

Rhy swung his arm around his brother’s shoulders, then winced. “Did you have to let that last blow through?” he whispered beneath the sounds of the crowd.

Kell shrugged. “I wanted to give the people a show.” But he was smiling.

“You better put that grin away,” chided Rhy. “If anyone sees you beaming like that, they’ll think you’ve gone mad.”

Kell tried to wrestle his features into their usual stem order, and lost. He couldn’t help it. The last time he’d felt this alive, someone was trying to kill him.

His body ached in a dozen different places. He’d lost six plates to the Faroan’s ten. It was far harder than he’d thought it would be, using only one element. Normally he let the lines between them blur, drawing on whichever he needed, knowing he could reach for any, and they would answer. In the end, it had taken half Kell’s focus not to break the rules.

But he’d done it.

Rhy’s arm fell away, and he nodded at the arena floor where the Arnesian had been. “That one might give the others a run for their money.”

“I thought the odds were in Alucard’s favor.”

“Oh, they still are. But this one’s something. You should see his next match, if you can find the time.”

“I’ll check my schedule.”

A man cleared his throat. “Your Highness. Master Kell.” It was Rhy’s guard, Tolners. He led their escort out of the stadium, and Staff fell in step behind them on the way to the palace. It had only been hours since Kell left, but he felt like a different man. The walls weren’t as suffocating, and even the looks didn’t bother him as much.

It had felt so good to fight. The exhilaration was paired with a strange relief, a loosening in his limbs and chest, like a craving sated. For the first time in months, he was able to stretch his power. Not all the way, of course, and every moment he was constantly aware of the need for discretion, disguise, but it was something. Something he’d desperately needed.

“You’re coming tonight, of course,” said Rhy as they climbed the stairs to the royal hall. “To the ball?”

“Another one?” complained Kell. “Doesn’t it get tiresome?”

“The politics are exhausting, but the company can be pleasant. And I can’t hide you from Cora forever.”

“Talk of exhausting,” muttered Kell as they reached their hall. He stopped at his room, while Rhy continued toward the doors with the gold inlaid R at the end.

“The sacrifices we make,” Rhy called back.

Kell rolled his eyes as the prince disappeared. He brought his hand to his own door, and paused. A bruise was coming out against his wrist, and he could feel the other places he’d been hit coloring beneath his clothes.

He couldn’t wait for tomorrow’s match.

He pushed open the door, and he was already shrugging out of his coat when he saw the king standing at his balcony doors, looking out through the frosted glass. Kell’s spirits sank.

“Sir,” he said gingerly.

“Kell,” said the king in way of greeting. His attention went to Staff, who stood in the doorway. “Please wait outside.” And then, to Kell, “Sit.”

Kell lowered himself onto a sofa, his bruises suddenly feeling less like victories, and more like traitors.

“Is something wrong?” asked Kell when they were alone.

“No,” said the king. “But I’ve been thinking about what you said this morning.”

This morning? This morning was years away. “About what, sir?”

“About your proximity to Rhy during the Essen Tasch. With so many foreigners flooding the city, I’d prefer if you kept to the palace.”

Kell’s chest tightened. “Have I done something wrong? Am I being punished?”

King Maxim shook his head. “I’m not doing this to punish you. I’m doing it to protect Rhy.”

“Your Majesty, I’m the one who protects Rhy. If anything were to—”

“But Rhy doesn’t need your protection,” cut in the king, “not anymore. The only way to keep him safe is to keep you safe.” Kell’s mouth went dry. “Come, Kell,” continued the king, “you can’t care that much. I haven’t seen you at the tournament all day.”