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Ren’s brain stumbled to a halt before she could properly celebrate her own success.
“Seminar? Wait. Like… Seminar Shiverian?”
The older woman nodded. “Do you know anyone else who’s been saddled with that atrocity of a name? If you do, let me know. Maybe we could form some kind of support group.”
“But… I mean… you practically invented the structural magic systems. I’ve read so much… We studied your spells in all of my advanced classes.… You’re a legend.”
“Right. I always forget about this part,” Seminar said. “The glow you see emanating from all of my various orifices right now will eventually fade. I work my research team to the bone. We push the limits here. You’ll forget all about the fact that I invented the modernized stun spells. Trust me.”
Ren’s mouth was still hanging open. “I did forget that you invented those. You’ve invented so many spells that I actually forgot you invented modernized stun spells.”
Seminar smiled. “Get here on time tomorrow. Good work today.”
Ren felt giddy. She knew this entire process was a glittering trap. The Broods were intentionally luring her to some version of a life without Theo, but she was literally researching spells under Seminar Shiverian. She and Ethel Shiverian were modern magic. It was an unthinkable honor. Her new advisor paused only long enough to speak with Pecking.
“She figured it out. Took you a bloody year. She figured it out in an afternoon.”
Seminar glided past him. Pecking’s cheeks colored a violent shade of red. He slammed his tray of instruments down. It was awkward, though. The room was too large. There was no exit nearby. No doors to slam behind him. Instead, he thundered off to the northwestern corner in the most pitiful, prolonged display Ren had ever seen.
She’d managed to impress one of the most accomplished wizards in Kathor. She’d found three new potential friends—none of whom should have any ties back to House Brood. She’d also found a new rival. The last detail was almost comfortable. Like slipping on a pair of old shoes. Her father had once told her that if she had no enemies, she was being too quiet. Ren walked over to Pecking’s tree and plucked the finest-looking apple from the bunch. She found she was ravenous after skipping lunch. It was just the thing for the long walk home.
15 DAHVID TIN’VORI
Dahvid wasn’t losing exactly.
He just wasn’t winning, either.
A hundred hands hung down, banging against the upper walls of the pit. That disgusting mixture of spitted meat and sweat and blood hung in the air. The crowd was growing restless. He could hear that unsatisfied muttering underneath the normal cheers. There’d been excitement at the start, when Dahvid first summoned his sword. And again, when his opponent landed a massive blow. The rest of the fight had been boring and technical and bloodless.
The crowd always preferred to watch someone die.
Dahvid’s opponent stood in the very center of the arena. He was a proper paladin. Great footwork. Defensive techniques. Military-trained. He’d clung to the same strategy for the last five minutes. His shield was enhanced by a divinity spell. Even when Dahvid was quick enough to strike past the actual metal—his blade would deflect off the golden light that encircled the shield. It reduced his target zones to almost nothing.
Even the golden spear his opponent wielded was a defensive measure. Every strike he’d made so far was designed to keep Dahvid from getting too close. Throughout the entire fight, he’d unleashed only one truly offensive maneuver. A powerful blow of light-magic that had knocked Dahvid completely off his feet and slammed him into the circular barrier enclosing the pit.
It had been an extension of the divinity spell. Dahvid knew enough about them to know that each person manifested the spell in their own unique way. His opponent had been absorbing each of his blows. After harnessing all that energy, he’d unleashed it back at Dahvid in a single, violent burst.
The fight was veering back toward boredom. Dahvid began a sequence. Centered downstrike. Rotate to backhanded swipe. Lunge low. Spin out of range. Backpedal. Each new swing was met by the enhanced shield. His opponent circled calmly. He was clearly waiting for a chance to unleash that absorbed magic a second time. Dahvid couldn’t let it continue on this way. Eventually he would tire out and his opponent would go on the offensive.
The restless crowd was his fault. Darling had been advertising his status as an image-bearer ever since Dahvid signed the contract. They’d come here to see him use his tattoos, and Darling had been clever enough to pick an opponent that required him to burn one of them. Everyone knew he was an image-bearer. That was no secret. It was impossible to look at him and not notice the etchings that covered his body. No, the true secret was what was housed inside each tattoo. The kinds of magic that Dahvid could summon. No one but his sisters knew that.
But if using one now was the price of victory, he would pay it.
Dahvid backpedaled to a safe distance and tossed his sword to the side. It stuck in the dirt, point down, well out of reach. His opponent still did not break from his stance.
“Fine. I’ll come to you.”
He reached through the exposed slit by his stomach. His fingers brushed the perfect circle Cath had drawn on his skin. Magic rippled outward. The ground beneath their feet shook as Dahvid stepped forward into the spear range of his opponent. A perfect circle was forming around him. He saw a hundred different cracks etch in the dusty nothing at their feet. Rippling out in indecipherable patterns. The paladin eyed the spell uncertainly. Dahvid kept closing in on where he stood.
His sword was still plunged in the dirt. Well outside the extending circle. Dahvid stomped his right foot and the spell sealed. The circle was complete. He and the paladin stood perfectly inside it—just a few paces apart.
That’s when the actual magic activated. Dahvid felt the spell hit him like a backhand. The paladin took the worst of it, though. The golden light of his divinity shield was snuffed out. His gilded spear flickered to a lifeless gray. Dahvid had cast a null zone. Inside this circle, magic could not exist. It was just the two of them now. Just flesh and bone and metal.
The paladin reacted as expected. A sudden lunge. Dahvid ducked beneath the strike and brought his left fist crashing into an exposed armpit. His opponent cried out, trying to backpedal, but Dahvid seized the top of his shield before he could get outside the circle.
The two of them wrestled over it, adjusting their positions, when Dahvid shoved the metal straight down into the ground. The paladin was so focused on keeping his grip that he didn’t brace for Dahvid’s headbutt. His opponent’s nose broke with a resounding crack. The crowd roared at the sight of blood finally painting the sand. The paladin’s arms pinwheeled as Dahvid tossed the shield uselessly aside. The end of this sequence was clear now. Like the unfurling petals of a flower. He could see it all unfolding, as if he stood outside time.
Another desperate stab of the spear. Dahvid sidestepped and broke the paladin’s nose a second time. Blood was everywhere. The features of his opponent’s face slipped away. Dahvid saw Thugar Brood standing across from him. The taunting leer and the thick beard and the forest-green eyes. That was who he was about to destroy.
