“They are,” I said carefully, puzzled by his continued dismissive attitude toward Lacey’s orders. Why was he being so glib? Did Lacey know that he found her orders to be more of an annoyance than something to listen to and consider? If so, why had she even selected him? Was it all based on his heritage—the fact that he was a legacy? If that was the case, then they really needed to spend more time grooming him. His attitude and demeanor, in my mind, did not make for a good leader, let alone a representative on the council.
If she didn’t know, I wasn’t breaking it to her; she needed to handle her own problems.
“I figured you could talk to… you-know-who and get them promoted.”
He shot me an irritated look. “You clearly think her power is all reaching if you think she can affect the department that much.”
“She got my friends into this department,” I pointed out. “Seems like she’s got more power than you think.”
He stopped and turned so that he was blocking my path. “It doesn’t work like that,” he informed me irritably. “A department transfer is different than an internal promotion. So I ask again, how do you propose to get them qualified in time?”
“Well, we’ve got three days, correct?”
“Yes.”
“Then I’ll just have to get them ready to test out.” I said it as if it were as simple as that, but testing out was not easy. It meant a minimum of twenty-four hours of tests and physical activities, and was a way for a Squire to skip the Academy, so to speak, if the department felt they were ready. Luckily, my friends were qualified for it, thanks to their ranks of ten.
Unluckily, I would have to get them up to speed on over two hundred years of the history of the department and vast amounts of protocol, and make sure they could at least hold their own for the physical part of the test.
Okay, it was daunting, no lie. But I had faith in my friends, and I was going to need them to complete Ambrose’s team. I knew them, knew their loyalties, whereas having a stranger on the team opened up a potential security risk that I just did not want to deal with. But you had to be a full Knight before you could compete in the Tourney—which meant I had to get them through. Before we registered.
By the look on Ambrose’s face, however, he did not agree. “We’ll see,” he said simply. “Now, let’s get to the ring to see if you’re actually skilled enough to qualify for the Tourney.”
He spun away and moved through the throngs of people toward one of the Quartermasters—the Knights who were too disabled after years of service to perform their full duties, and became responsible for the training level—to put our names on the waiting list. I watched him for a second, the dull, angry fire that had sparked in my belly at our meeting flaring up in the wake of his attitude. I had barely known him an hour, and already he was threatening to grind on my very last nerve.
I didn’t let him get too far away, however. I might not have liked him, but he was literally my responsibility, thanks to Lacey, and I had promised to keep him alive.
So.
I slipped through the crowds of people, keeping my eyes on Ambrose’s head, but not following him directly. I watched those around him, eyeing them for any potential signs of threat as he moved. I paused when he got to the desk to the right of the rings, and kept one eye on him, and the other on the commotion coming out of the rings themselves.
They were encircled by a static fence that would shock the contestants inside if they ventured too close. Nothing harmful, certainly, but half of sparring was about staying within the ring. Which was stupid, now that I thought about it, as fights were not always contained to such a small and confined space.
Still, I supposed it taught us to be brave and face our attacker, rather than flee, so that was something.
Most of the rings were filled, but only a few had drawn attention. I could hear the clack, clack, clack of batons striking each other, followed by cheers and shouts, and after checking to make sure Ambrose was all right, I drifted a little closer, trying to get a peek inside.
“Hello, Liana.”
A husky voice brought me up short, and I turned my head, my eyes widening to see Theo standing there. Theo had been my first girlhood crush, one that I had developed during our shared time at the Academy. I’d liked that he’d been like me, and we had often shared jokes about the ranking system. And then I’d met him more recently, and he’d completely changed—thanks to the drugs from the Medica.
My eyes dropped to his wrist, and I saw the eight that he’d had last time holding strong.
“Theo,” I said carefully. “How are you?”
“Well. Although, I’m surprised to see you here. I would have assumed you’d want to keep a low profile after what happened.”
I cocked my head at him, frowning. “What? Why would I do that?”
He gave me a confused look, and then looked around the room. I followed his gaze, and realized that people were staring at me. Some were looking at me with fear. Others with awe. I shifted, suddenly aware of the scrutiny I was under.
It hadn’t even occurred to me that people would react like that. Now that I was standing there, under all of those eyes, I became aware of it, like it was a live wire running right under my skin. I was the girl chosen by Scipio. I was the girl who had killed Devon Alexander.
Theo looked back at me expectantly, and caught between my discomfort and the lie, I smiled embarrassedly. “I was feeling cooped up inside my room, and wanted to observe the chaos I had created.” I meant it as a joke, but Theo’s answering look was nervous, and I realized it was probably too soon for me to be making references to killing the Champion. I looked around, checking on Ambrose, and then took a step closer. “So, who’s the competition?” I asked. “Are you applying?”
“Me?” He shook his head. “No, I’m not competing. I just came down here for some training after my shift.”
“What? Don’t think you’re cut out to be the Champion?”
He blinked and then shook his head again. “Even an eight is unworthy of such a position of esteem. It is unfortunate that the Medica has taken me as far as they can.”
I frowned at the disappointment in his voice, disgusted by his attitude. I knew I shouldn’t be; his behavior was common among the citizens of the Tower. Self-worth was dependent on those stupid little indicators tethered around our wrists, always a reflection of social standing.
“Well, that’s too bad, Theo. I think you’d make a great Champion.”
I was surprised by the smile my words caused. Normally those under Medica treatment tended to emote very little, their entire demeanor monotone, so my statement had to have really touched something deep inside for that reaction.
Uncomfortable with the thread of the conversation, I paused to check once again on Ambrose, and saw that he was in the middle of a conversation with three other Knights, all males. A warning signal went up my spine, but Ambrose started laughing at something one of them said, and I realized that they were probably some of his friends. There was a familiarity to their interaction. I watched him gesture toward an empty ring, and the four of them headed over to it.
“So, have you seen Dylan Chase yet?” Theo asked, and I shifted my gaze back to him.
“Dylan Chase?”
“Dylan’s probably one of the best contenders signed up thus far. Although some of my friends think it’s going to be Frederick Hamilton. They’re in those two arenas, doing King of the Hill Rules.”
I arched an impressed eyebrow and looked to where he was now pointing. King of the Hill was no easy task: one person stood their ground against any number of assailants, and remained there until their opponents were gone, or until they fell and someone could take their place. They were the same rings as before, but the number of people around them had increased in the short time we’d been talking. I could barely see the blue sheen of the static fence along the perimeter, the people stood so deep. I heard the sounds of fighting, but couldn’t make heads or tails of what was going on inside.
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And making my way through that crowd would’ve been nigh impossible. I wanted to see some of what Ambrose and I were going to face inside the Tourney, but that way wasn’t going to work.
“You got your lashes on you?” I asked, looking up.
“Of course I do. Why do you ask?”
I pulled my lash bead out and grinned. “Because I want to get a better view of the two in the ring,” I replied. “And you seem to know who these people are, so I want to pick your brain about them.”
“Why?” he asked, confused. A moment later, his face shifted to a look of alarm, and he looked around before taking a step closer. “You’re not still working for Scipio, are you?”
“What?” I stared at him, then shook my head. “Of course not. Look, yes, I executed Devon. Yes, he was the Champion. But, he was also a dissident, and was using his position of power to hurt the Tower. I did what I did for the Tower, and I would’ve done it without Scipio’s backing if I had found out about it on my own.”
Ahhh… just enough truth mixed with lies to get things truly muddled. It occurred to me then that I was going to have my work cut out for me in keeping up with this charade.
Theo stared at me for a beat, and then pulled out his own lash. “Shall we?”
There was an obstacle course comprised of metal beams jutting out of the wall some twenty feet up, used exclusively for training new recruits on how to work a lash. We called them baby bars, and it didn’t take long before they got boring. Most recruits started avoiding them after the first week of training.
Which meant no one thought of them as useful—which was perfect. I threw my lash, angling for the closest overhead beam. I needed momentum, however, if I was going to swing, so I got a running start first, reeling in the slack as I went, and then threw myself into the air, surrendering to the feeling of weightlessness. I used the controls on my hand and the gears in the harness to pull myself up several feet, creating a swing for myself, and now emphasized it by leaning in and out of the arc. Then I threw my second lash to the next beam. When it attached, I disconnected the first line and glided forward, defying gravity in the upswing.
I disconnected the second line at the apex, and spread my arms and flew for several feet, angling for the next beam. I reached out and grabbed the edge just before gravity began to re-exert its force. Most women had a difficult time with pull-ups, but I didn’t, and I flexed my arms and chest and pulled myself up and onto it, straddling the girder.
Theo joined me a second later, although he did it the boring way, attaching his lash to the beam and slowly reeling himself up. I checked yet again on Ambrose, and took a few moments to watch him sparring with his friends. He was fast, but his movements were a tad sloppy. He used the length of the baton to compensate for his sloppiness, but it was still there. It was fine against his current opponent—but that was just because he had significantly less skill than Ambrose did. It certainly wasn’t a fair fight.
But there were skilled individuals throughout the Tower, and if he expected to qualify, he was going to have to be more tactical and less wild. All it would take was someone with more skill, patience, and cunning, and he’d be out before the Tourney even began.
Once Theo was seated, I looked at him expectantly.
“That’s Frederick Hamilton,” he said, pointing to the ring closest to us. From our vantage point, I could see three men inside—but it was easy to discern who Frederick was, as the other two were attacking him flat out. He was a tall and exceptionally lanky man, with thick, short black hair and blue eyes so bright I could make them out from here. He wielded two batons and moved with lightening quickness, spinning them around his body in a cyclone of movement. It didn’t take long for him to dispatch both of the others, his batons striking them both multiple times before knocking them down. The crowd cheered as he helped them up, and then two more replaced them.
“He’s really fast,” I said, impressed by his reaction time.
“And really noble, if some of the rumors are true,” Theo commented. “But I don’t think he’s got the stuff. Not compared to Dylan. Look.”
He pointed to the second ring, where a woman and man were sparring one on one. As I watched, the woman planted a mule kick to the man’s chest and shoved him back several feet, until he stumbled and fell.
“I think your Dylan might be in trouble,” I said.
He laughed. “Dylan’s the girl, Liana.”
“Oh.” I turned my gaze back to the woman and watched as she stalked forward across the floor toward her opponent in a slow predator’s gait. Her hair was so blond it might as well have been white, cut short and styled artfully in an asymmetrical bob, the longest bit curving around her round face. Her skin was bronze, and she was a strange combination of curvy but fit.
The man picked himself up off the ground and rose to meet her, but within three moves she had disarmed him, struck him, and then tripped him. She planted one foot on his chest and held the baton out, pointing it at his face. His hands went up automatically, and she smiled a feline smile, then reached down to help him up.
“She’s pretty good,” I commented.
“I know. She was my supervisor after I graduated the Academy. I’d follow her into the Wastes, if she asked me to.”
I gave him an incredulous look, trying to figure out whether he was serious or not. The Wastes weren’t anything to joke about; they surrounded the Tower in a sea of sand for hundreds of miles, and were highly irradiated. For him to say something like that, he had to be joking or insane. No one deserved that much blind devotion. No one was that inspiring.
But as people screamed and cheered around both arenas, I began to have doubts. Both candidates were popular, and seemed to have the skill to back themselves up. They could make a serious play for Champion. I would need to have them researched to find out if they were actually a threat. I’d also probably need to have them followed—which meant tapping Quess, as he and Tian were the only ones who weren’t known by everyone, and wouldn’t be so easily followed.
Even as all those ideas were added to my never-ending to-do list, I paused and looked back at Dylan and Frederick. Both of them were impressive and, as long as they weren’t legacies within the opposite group, already seemed like much better candidates than Ambrose did. I knew what Lacey wanted me to do, but for the first time I found myself wondering if I even should.
I knew why Lacey and Strum were pushing for it—they needed more seats on the council to vote down whatever laws or decisions they didn’t agree with, supposedly for the good of the Tower. While that remained to be seen, their choice of replacement was just unsuitable, and chances were, wouldn’t win even with our assistance.
Which meant I was robbing someone else of a chance, someone who actually deserved to be in the seat. Someone who could make a difference and could stand apart from these shadow games. Didn’t the people deserve a chance to at least have someone impartial sitting on the council?
My stomach churned at this newfound moral dilemma, and for a second, I teetered on the edge of calling this all off and taking my chances on the run. Then I remembered that everyone was relying on me to do this to keep them safe. This was the plan, morality aside. I couldn’t deviate from it.
It helped, but it didn’t solve my dilemma. It remained, like a little itch in the back of my mind. One I was choosing to ignore.
For now.
My gaze slid back over to Ambrose, and I saw him looking out into the crowd, his head moving back and forth. It took me a second to realize that he was looking for me, but once I did, I stood up on the bar.
“I’ve got to go, Theo,” I informed him. “Thank you for the information, though.”
“Anytime,” he said with a nod.
I quickly threw my lashes and lowered myself to the floor before disengaging the lines and moving toward the ring, intent on showing Ambrose what sloppiness could lead to, while my mind considered Frederick and Dylan. Both were good in their own ways, and would create some sti
ff competition. I was going to need to know as much as I could about them, and anyone else who would be true competition.
Odds were that those individuals would be the most likely to want to assassinate Ambrose, especially if he became any sort of a threat to their plans. Especially if any one of them was working for another legacy family.
11
I squared my shoulders and exhaled slowly, trying to let go of the frustration that had accumulated over the past few hours, and relax. It had been a long day, and even though I had slept for a record twenty-one hours before it started, I was mentally and physically exhausted.
And there were still miles to go before I found sleep again.
Opening my eyes, I reached out and pressed the buzzer on the door I was standing in front of.
“Caller?” a rich male voice asked.
“Knight Elite Liana Castel for Squire Grey Farmless,” I informed the door. I looked down the hall, confirming it was still empty. Most Squires were studying or eating right now, but Leo and I had arranged to meet at this time today, so I was certain he was in.
A moment later the door slid open, and Leo was there. He looked moderately disheveled, his eyelids heavy and hair in disarray. Even his uniform was wrinkled, like he’d slept in it. Then I realized that he had been sleeping, and I had woken him up.
“Liana?” he asked, blinking slowly and smoothing wild wisps of hair back from his forehead. “Oh dear. Am I late?” He lifted his wrist and stared at it for a second, and then shook his head and swiped his fingers across the lens, looking at the time. “So sorry,” he said, his voice cracking as he yawned. “I am still adjusting to the concept of sleep.”
I watched all of this, both fascinated and uncomfortable. As soon as he had opened the door, all I could see was Grey, and my initial instinct had been to throw myself in his arms and let him hug all of my irritation, fear, and loneliness away. Maybe even give me one of those hard, hungry kisses that left me feeling fluttery in my stomach. I’d done my best not to think about him all day, but now that he was standing in front of me…