Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 59723 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 299(@200wpm)___ 239(@250wpm)___ 199(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59723 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 299(@200wpm)___ 239(@250wpm)___ 199(@300wpm)
I turn my face to dark eyes framed with black. “A ridiculous game,” I say, and smirk when he grimaces. “But I’m finding some fun in it today.”
The black knight shifts his horse until our legs touch for a passing second. And then he halts. Looks ahead at the stands. “You know.”
My silence is his answer.
“Are we ready to begin?”
I pull at my reins, moving around Nicostratus’s other side so we’re face to face, and beam at him.
His hardened gaze moves from the black knight and back to me with a smile. “I planned to give you this later, but now is better.” He pulls a pair of golden feathers from his belt and hands one over. “I made these. One for me. One for my Amuletos.”
The feather is a smaller version of the ones we made wishes to in the queen’s courtyard. The ones I wanted to keep. I clutch it tightly. “I love it.”
Nicostratus smiles; his gaze flashes to the black knight and then sideways to Veronica trotting over.
“Shall we?”
We play a competitive first half—Veronica and I team up to score two, with Quin missing his chance at the third by mere inches. Our attempts at the fourth and fifth are keenly batted away by the giant, giving the black knight an opportunity to score, and Aklo another.
The crowd’s cheers turn into roars as the black knight darts forward with precise, flawless movements. The weight of every gaze around the field must be on this mesmerising display of skill. It’s as if the pitch belongs to him. Even in disguise, his importance seeps from him.
We’re close to evening up the score when the whistle blows: a red flag for Nicostratus for swinging his drakopala into an opponent’s horse. I know it’s an easy mistake to make in this game, but our chances of winning have left the field with him, and my spirits deflate.
“That ugly clasp you wagered?” Aklo purrs as he passes me and tugs his metal-studded belt. “It’ll join the trinkets of the men I’ve killed.”
This guy, Quin?
By mid-game, Veronica and I are exhausted. Aklo throws me a smug smirk as he slinks his horse close to the black knight and whispers something in his ear. There’s a lean to his body that is absolutely inappropriate in front of a crowd. The king’s people.
“Cael? Cael?”
I turn to Veronica, who’s holding out a canteen for me and shaking her head. “See what I mean? Bane of my drakopagon existence.”
“If Nicostratus hadn’t been disqualified . . .” I glance at the stands where Nicostratus is sitting, watching us calmly. He waves and smiles.
“He wasn’t playing his best, anyway.” Veronica sighs. “How about doing some reconnaissance?”
If anyone on their team is flagging, man or horse, Veronica and I can take advantage of that weakness. The surreptitious health check is one of our old tactics. Not strictly against the rules.
I urge my horse around the arena, slowing as I pass our opponents. I close my eyes and absorb the surrounding scents. The black knight’s horse is a little salty, dehydrated, but nothing that will hinder a second half on the field. Quin himself has a sweet woody scent . . . he’s absorbed pain relief from my flutette; he’s in top form. Aklo has a fishy smell about him. Ridiculously healthy, fuelled by arousal . . .
Bitterness hits the back of my nose. My palm tingles with magic and I tighten my fist, swallowing it back inside. I urge my horse nearer the giant.
This man is sick. Very sick. Immediately, I move to his side. “What medicinal herbs have you taken?”
His eyes are glazed; he’s not focusing on me. I stack a spell in my palm—the infection in his spleen is taking hold. With my right hand, I grab his wrist and read his stagnating pulse. No time—even if he’s taken something, and this spell reacts with that, it’s no worse than not treating him at all.
I press my palm to his chest and force my spell into his swollen spleen.
The effect is immediate; he hauls in a breath, eyes focusing. He has no idea how lucky he is that I’m sneaky enough to check my opponents’ health for an edge in the game.
“What did you do?” he asks.
“Do you feel better?”
He yawns, his eyelids closing. “Sleepy.”
I wince. “Side effect. You’ll be fine after some rest—”
“What are you doing?” The black knight comes up on the giant’s other side in time to catch him as he sags. He looks over his teammate at me, mask not enough to hide his suspicion.
“I’m not cheating,” I say.
“He just happened to fall asleep?”
“He was sick.”
Quin doesn’t look convinced.
“If I wanted to cheat,” I say in a tight whisper, “I’d have knocked out the other one.” Dark eyes flash, and I raise my chin stubbornly. “For the good of the kingdom!”