But displaying your wealth was just asking to be robbed of it, and she wondered how hard it would be to remove the beads.

How did they stay on? Glue? Magic? No, she noticed the ornaments on Ver-as-Is hadn’t been stuck in place, exactly—they’d been buried, each one embedded in the skin. The modification was expertly done, the flesh around the beads barely raised, creating the illusion that the metal had grown straight from his face. But she could see the faint traces of scarring, where flesh and foreign object met.

That would certainly make robbing difficult.

And messy.

“Astal,” said the judge in white and gold. Prepare.

The crowd stilled, holding its breath.

The Faroan lifted his orbs, waiting for her to do the same.

Lila held out her spheres—fire and water—said a quick prayer, and let go.

* * *

Alucard filled two glasses from the decanter on the table.

The glass was halfway to Lila’s lips when he said, “I wouldn’t drink that if I were you.”

She stopped and peered at the contents. “What is this?”

“Avise wine … mostly.”

“Mostly,” she echoed. She squinted, and sure enough, she could see particles of something swirling in the liquid. “What have you put in it?”

“Red sand.”

“I assume you contaminated my favorite drink for a reason?”

“Indeed.”

He set his own glass back on the table.

“Tonight, you’re going to learn to influence two elements simultaneously.”

“I can’t believe you ruined a bottle of avise wine.”

“I told you magic was a conversation—”

“You also said it was an ocean,” said Lila. “And a door, and once I think you even called it a cat—”

“Well, tonight we’re calling it a conversation. We’re simply adding another participant. The same power, different lines.”

“I’ve never been able to pat my head and rub my stomach at the same time.”

“Well then, this should be interesting.”

* * *

Lila gasped for breath.

Ver-as-Is was circling, and her body screamed, still aching from the day before. And yet, tired as she was, the magic was there, under her skin, pulsing to get out.

They were even, six to six.

Sweat ran into her eyes as she ducked, dodged, leaped, struck. A lucky blow took out the plate on the Faroan’s bicep. Seven to six.

Water spun before her in a shield, turning to ice every time Ver-as-Is struck. It shattered beneath his blows, but better the shield than her precious plates.

The ruse didn’t work for long. After the second block, he caught on and followed up his first attack with another. Lila lost two more plates in a matter of seconds. Seven to eight.

She could feel her strength ebbing, and the Faroan only seemed to get stronger. Faster.

Fire and water was proving to be a wretched choice. They couldn’t touch; every time they did, they canceled, turning to steam or smoke—

And that gave her an idea.

She maneuvered to the nearest boulder, one low enough to scale, and brought the two forces together in her hands. White smoke billowed forth, filling the arena, and in its cover she turned and vaulted up onto the rock. From above, she could see the swirl of air made by Ver-as-Is as he turned, trying to find her. Lila focused, and the steam separated; the water became mist and then ice, freezing around him, while her fire surged up into the air and then rained down. Ver-as-Is got his earth into an arcing shield, but not before she broke two of his plates. Nine to eight.

Before she could savor the advantage, a spike of earth shot through the air at her and she leaped backward off the boulder.

And straight into a trap.

Ver-as-Is was there, inside her guard, four earthen spears hurtling toward her. There was no way to avoid the blows, no time. She was going to lose, but it wasn’t just about the match, not in this moment, because those spears were sharp, as sharp as the ice that had pierced Kell’s shoulder.

Panic spiked through her, the way it had so many times when a knife came too close and she felt the balance tip, the kiss of danger, the brush of death.

No. Something surged inside her, something simple and instinctual, and in that moment, the whole world slowed.

It was magic—it had to be—but unlike anything she’d ever done. For an instant, the space inside the arena seemed to change, slowing her pulse and drawing out the fractions of time within the second, stretching the moment—not much, just long enough for her to dodge, and roll, and strike. One of Ver-as-Is’s spears still grazed her arm, breaking the plate and drawing blood, but it didn’t matter, because Ver-as-Is’s body took an instant—that same, stolen instant—too long to move, and her ice hit him in the side, shattering his final plate.

And just like that, the moment snapped closed, and everything caught up. She hadn’t noticed the impossible quiet of that suspended second until it collapsed. In its wake, the world was chaos. Her arm was stinging, and the crowd had exploded into cheers, but Lila couldn’t stop staring at Ver-as-Is, who was looking down at himself, as if his body had betrayed him. As if he knew that what had just happened wasn’t possible.

But if Lila had broken the rules, no one else seemed to notice. Not the judge, or the king, or the cheering stands.

“Victory goes to Stasion Elsor,” announced the man in white and gold.

Ver-as-Is glowered at her, but he didn’t call foul. Instead he turned and stormed away. Lila watched him go. She felt something wet against her lip, and tasted copper. When she reached her fingers through the jaws of her mask and touched her nose, they came away red. Her head was spinning. But that was all right; it had been a tough fight.