She was still riding shoulders, still the center of everyone’s attention. Finally, though, the officials stepped forward again and broke up the crowd as best as they could. A few seconds later, a low, rolling drumbeat sounded.
“Now what?” I muttered.
Devon gave me a sympathetic look. “Now, the officials will present the winner’s trophy . . . and the one for the runner-up.”
I groaned. “Please don’t tell me that I have to go back out there.”
He winced. “Sorry, Lila.”
Sure enough, one of the officials came over, gesturing for me to go back out into the middle of the stadium, where a small stage had been erected inside the stone ring. By the time I reached the stage, Deah was already standing on it, and I had no choice but to go over, climb the steps, and stand right next to her.
The head official started talking about what an honor it was to oversee the tournament every year, how fiercely all the competitors had fought, and blah, blah, blah, blah. The only thing that mattered right now was the fact that I’d lost. But I plastered a tight smile on my face, raised my hand, and waved to the crowd when I was supposed to. Deah did the same thing, smiling just like I was, although she kept looking at me out of the corner of her eye.
“Why did you let me win?” she muttered during a particularly loud round of applause. “What possible reason could you have had for doing that?”
“What does it matter?” I muttered back. “You won. So shut up, and be happy about it.”
She shook her head. “I didn’t want to win like that. I wanted to earn it for myself. I don’t need your charity or especially your damn pity.”
I opened my mouth to snark back that with her ungrateful attitude, she didn’t have to worry because she wouldn’t be getting either one of those things ever again. But the official stepped forward and presented me with a small silver cup before I could get the words out.
I ground my teeth together, forced myself to smile again, and held the cup up over my head as though I were absolutely thrilled with second place. No bloody way.
After the polite applause had faded away, I lowered the cup and tap-tap-tapped my fingernail against the side of it. Solid sterling silver and worth a pretty penny. Well, at least I’d gotten something out of letting Deah win. Maybe I’d let Mo hock my trophy, such as it was, at the Razzle Dazzle. I certainly didn’t want to keep it and be reminded of how I’d lost.
“And now, I am pleased to present this year’s winner of the Tournament of Blades . . . Deah Draconi!” the official yelled.
Deah got a gold cup—real gold from the way it glimmered in the sun—and hoisted it up and over her head. The Draconi dragon crest had already been stamped into the cup, along with Deah’s name and the date she’d won the tournament. Wow. The engravers around here worked fast. The thought further soured my mood.
The crowd cheered again, the sound rising to a deafening roar, and Deah smiled and waved, although I was the only one who noticed how thin and brittle her expression really was.
Maybe that was because it matched mine perfectly.
Finally, the stupid ceremony wrapped up, and I could leave the stage. I stomped down the stairs and back over to the fence where Devon and Felix were waiting for me, along with Oscar.
“Don’t worry,” Oscar said, fluttering over and landing on my shoulder. “You’ll get her next year.”
“Right,” I muttered. “Next year.”
If one more person said that to me, I was going to scream.
“Come on,” Felix said. “Let’s get you cleaned up and out of those clothes so we can go get some food. I know you must be starving.”
“And how would you know that?”
He grinned. “Because Lila Merriweather is always starving. They’ve already set out the food down by the lake. And doesn’t bacon make everything better?”
Felix waggled his eyebrows, trying to cheer me up by using my own line against me, and I actually found myself laughing, just a little. Sure, losing had sucked, but I wouldn’t trade places with Deah for anything. She might have won the Tournament of Blades, but I had something way more important—my friends—friends who would never, ever desert me no matter what happened.
“Come on,” Felix said, a wheedling note creeping into his voice. “I’ll even let you have my allotment of bacon too.”
I eyed him. “Promise?”
He made an X over his heart. “Promise.”
I laughed again, the sound coming to me easier this time. “Good. Because you’re right; bacon does make everything better. So point me to it.”
We stopped at the Sinclair tent, where Felix used his healing magic to patch up the slice in my arm. I also took off my tournament clothes, exchanged them for my normal blue T-shirt, gray cargo shorts, and gray sneakers, and put my silver cup in my bag with the rest of my things. I strapped my sword back to my waist, then balled up my black pants and white shirt and stuffed them into the nearest trash can. I never wanted to wear them or be reminded of this day again.
When I was finished, I threaded one arm through Felix’s and my other one through Devon’s. Together, we left the stadium behind and headed out of the fairgrounds.
It was after seven now, and the party was already going strong by the time we reached the lake. People were milling around the picnic shelters, laughing, talking, and scarfing down food. Someone must have gotten hold of Oscar’s playlist because twangy, old-school country music sounded. The smells of grilled meat filled the air, and my stomach rumbled.
“See?” Felix said, nudging me with his elbow. “I knew you wouldn’t be down for long. Not when there’s free food.”
I laughed and we got in line in front of the stand that Reginald and the Sinclair pixies were manning, with Oscar fluttering over to help them out. Tonight’s menu was barbecue, which meant meat and lots of it. Pulled pork, pulled beef, smoked brisket, and lots of grilled sausages slathered with this spicy barbecue sauce Reginald told me he’d gotten from a restaurant called the Pork Pit. I piled a plate high with meats, then another one with coleslaw, onion rings, baked beans full of bacon, and some delicious sourdough rolls to sop everything up with.
Devon, Felix, and I went over to a table and sat down. I wanted nothing more than to eat my food in peace, but to my surprise, folks from all the different Families came over and congratulated me on the tournament yet again. Nobody said that I would get Deah next year, though, so I didn’t have to break out my best scream on anyone.
I smiled and made the appropriate noises, but the congratulations only made me feel even more like a stupid, stupid fool. Yeah, I might have done the right thing, but the aftermath was torture. Especially since Deah was in the middle of the lawn, surrounded by her adoring admirers, with that gold cup glimmering on the table beside her like a neon sign flashing HERE SHE IS! SHE’S A WINNER! ISN’T SHE GREAT!
I focused on the cup. Maybe I could go over and swipe it while everyone was paying attention to Deah. Too bad I didn’t have my spidersilk coat with me. It would have been perfect for hiding that gold cup and smuggling it away from here.
Blake and the rest of the Draconis might be showering Deah with attention, but not everyone was happy about her win. Some of the other competitors were giving her sour looks, including Katia, whose eyes glittered an eerie green. I frowned. Something about her gaze bothered me—
Devon bumped his shoulder into mine. “What are you thinking about?”
The thought, whatever it was, vanished back into the bottom of my brain. I shook my head. “Nothing.”
He stared at me, his eyes shining in his face. He leaned down and wet his lips, as though he was about to ask me something, and I was suddenly aware of just how hard my heart was hammering in my chest. Especially because this time, I was going to tell him yes.
Yes, I cared about him. Yes, I wanted to be with him. Just . . . yes. To everything there was between us.
“Well, well, well,” a familiar, unwelcome voice sneered. “If it isn’t the f
irst loser, hiding out with the rest of her loser friends.”
I looked up to find Blake standing beside our table. My hands curled into fists in my lap. More than ever before, I wanted to wipe that smug smirk off his face. Devon put a hand on my arm, warning me against doing anything.
“Did you really think you could hide over here?” Blake said, his voice booming out like thunder.
Folks stopped what they were doing to stare at us, and I realized that Blake wanted me to get mad. He wanted me to look like a sore loser. Well, it wasn’t going to happen.
I shrugged, not rising to his taunting. “I wasn’t trying to hide. Just wanted to get some food.”
Deah had heard Blake, and she grabbed her gold cup off the table and walked over to stand by her brother. Of course she would. She might have Sterling blood, but she was Draconi through and through.
“Blake,” she said. “Leave her alone. I won. That’s the important thing, right?”
Blake gave her a cool look. “Of course you won. You were always going to win. You’re the best fighter in town. And now that you have won, you need to show everyone else what their place is—below you. Below us. Below all the Draconis.”
Deah bit her lip, looking back and forth between Blake and me. Her eyes cut to Felix for a second as well. She didn’t want to go along with Blake, but I knew she would. She always had before, even if she knew her brother was a bully and hated the way he looked down on everyone else.
She sighed. “Blake, let’s just go. Okay? There’s no need to be mean about things.”
He frowned. “You weren’t saying that last year when you won. You spent the whole night telling the other contestants to suck it, and rightly so, especially Katia. So what’s different this year? You won again, and we should celebrate. Why aren’t you on board with that?”
Deah glanced at me, and my soulsight kicked in, letting me feel just how much she was struggling with this. She might have won the tournament, but she hadn’t done it fairly, and it was eating at her. Her gaze fell to the gold cup in her hand, her fingers tightening around the handle.
“Come on, Sis,” Blake said, that sneer creeping back into his voice again. “Everyone knows that you’re the best. I just want to make sure these Sinclair losers realize it too.”
“They’re not losers,” she said in a soft voice, her fingers tracing over the snarling dragon crest stamped into the cup.
“Sure they are,” Blake said, his voice growing louder and louder. “Especially Morales. He didn’t even get picked by his own Family to enter the tournament because they all know what a loser he is. He wouldn’t have even made it through the first round. Scratch that. He wouldn’t have made it through the first minute without getting bounced out of the tournament.”
“Don’t talk about Felix like that,” Deah snapped. “He’s never done anything to you.”
Blake’s brown eyes narrowed. “And yet, you’re the one who’s always defending him. Why is that?”
Deah’s gaze flicked from Blake to Felix and back again, desperately trying to come up with some sort of answer.
I shot to my feet. “Maybe because she’s tired of you picking on him the way you do everyone else. I wouldn’t want to have to listen to you either.”
Blake stepped up so that he was staring straight down into my face. “Deah might have already beaten you in the tournament, but I can do it again. Right here, right now. Where it really matters. Where I can really make it hurt.”
What he meant was where he could give me the beating he’d been itching to dish out for weeks now, ever since I’d humiliated him at the arcade by putting him in that wrist lock in front of his friends.
But I wasn’t scared of Blake and his threats, and I laughed in his face.
“Please,” I scoffed. “You couldn’t beat me on your best day. And trust me. Today isn’t that day.”
Blake started toward me, but Deah stepped in between us.
“Hey,” she said, putting her hand on his chest. “Just calm down, okay? Let’s go back to our table and forget about them.”
Blake looked down at her, his eyes glinting with a dangerous light. “Sure, we’ll go back. After you show her who’s really in charge around here. Go on, Deah. You beat her once. Do it again. And this time, really make it hurt.”
Deah bit her lip again, but she didn’t automatically say no. By this point, everyone was staring at us. The other Draconis had drifted over to the table, and they’d all gathered around, along with some of the kids from the other Families. Apparently, they didn’t want the tournament to end yet, or perhaps they just wanted to see a little more blood sport, because all the other kids formed a circle around us and started chanting Fight! Fight! Fight! in louder and louder voices, with Blake, of course, leading them.
I looked at Devon and Felix, and they both stared back at me, concern creasing their faces. But there were too many of the other kids around and not enough Sinclairs for them to do anything about Blake’s suggestion of a new fight between me and Deah. So I stepped forward into an open space a few feet away from the table, my hand on the hilt of my sword. If Blake wanted a fight, he was going to get one.
Blake put his arm around Deah’s shoulder and marched her forward. “Go on,” he repeated. “Show her how Draconis fight. Show her how Draconis end things, especially Sinclairs.”
He pushed Deah forward so that she was standing right in front of me. Panic and guilt flared in her eyes. She didn’t want to do this. She didn’t want to be here, but she was going along with her brother, just like always.
To my surprise, Deah shook her head and stepped away from me. “I’m not going to do it. I’m not going to fight her.”
“Why not?” Blake said. “It’s not like you’re scared of her. You already beat her once. You can do it again.”
Deah kept shaking her head, making her golden hair whip around her shoulders. She had the sick, panicked look of a wounded deer being hemmed in on all sides by a pack of hungry copper crushers and about to be dragged down and squeezed to death.
“No,” she said. “I’m not going to do it. I’m not going to fight her. You don’t understand.”
Blake rolled his eyes. “Why not? Just do the same thing that you did in the tournament and teach this bitch a lesson. What is there to understand?”
“Lila let me win!” Deah screamed.
Her voice echoed through the evening air, seeming to bounce from one side of the lake and back again. Suddenly, everyone was quiet and still.
Deah looked around, breathing hard, her cheeks red, realizing that she’d just shouted her secret to everyone. But she didn’t try to take it back. Instead, her spine straightened, and she lifted her chin and faced Blake again.
“I didn’t win the tournament,” she said, all her heartache apparent in her choking voice. “Lila was the better fighter. She could have won, but she didn’t. She let me cut her instead. Probably because she felt sorry for me. Isn’t that right, Lila? Don’t you feel sorry for me? The girl with the crazy mom, bully brother, and heartless dad?”
I didn’t say anything, but my wince was answer enough for her and everyone else.
Deah let out a bitter laugh. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. Here. Take this. You earned it. Not me.”
She shoved the gold cup into my hands, broke through the ring of kids, and ran off into the woods.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
I stood there holding the gold winner’s cup, the metal strangely, sickeningly cold under my fingers. All around me, everyone was quiet, although I could feel their speculative gazes on me, wondering what had ever possessed me to let Deah win instead of taking the victory for myself. Yeah, I was asking myself that one too.
Blake gave me a disgusted glare, like he couldn’t believe I’d actually let someone else win anything, then stomped off, heading back toward the fairgrounds. Obviously, he had no intention of going after Deah to make sure that she was okay. Some brother he was. I wondered if he was looking for Victor so he could tell
dear old dad what she’d said. I wouldn’t put it past Blake to be that kind of tattletale.
I wondered if Victor would punish Deah and Seleste anyway, even though Deah had technically won the tournament. I hoped not, but there was nothing I could do about it. I wasn’t the one who’d let the monster out of the bag.
One by one, the other kids drifted away, going back to their own tables, although they all kept staring at me and whispering behind their hands.
I sighed. For the third day in a row, this was a miserable end to a perfectly miserable day. Yeah, bad things really did come in threes, and these last few days had been doozies all the way around.
Felix stared at me. “You really did let her win, didn’t you?”
I shrugged.
He grimaced, then looked at the woods where she’d gone. “I should go after her. Talk to her.”
I sighed. “No, let me. Besides, I still have to give this back to her.” I held up the gold cup. “I don’t want it. Not anymore.”
I’d never be able to look at it without thinking about Deah’s meltdown and the anguish shimmering in her eyes, anguish that I’d felt down to the bottom of my own soul.
Devon nodded. “Go talk to her. We’ll wait for you here.”
I nodded and headed off toward the woods.
We’d been sitting at a table near the front of the lawns, and I had to walk almost the entire length of the picnic area before I reached the woods. Everyone turned to watch my progress, although thankfully, the whispers died down the closer I got to the trees.
I clutched the gold cup to my chest, kept my head down, and hurried on. Even though it wasn’t all that big, the winner’s cup felt heavy and awkward in my hands, and I wanted to give it back to Deah as soon as possible. I wasn’t even tempted by all that shiny gold, not anymore. And I didn’t have the slightest desire to let Mo pawn it at the Razzle Dazzle.
I had thought that I was doing the right thing by letting Deah win, but now I wasn’t so sure. Maybe I should have just finished the fight. Maybe I should have beaten her fair and square. Either way, Deah had been hurt, and now she and Seleste would probably suffer even more, once Blake told Victor about her confession.