I said. “They’re just paper. They don’t even count as artifacts.”
“I suppose there’s nothing in the rules,” said Professor Sarva. She moved on, administering the magical version of a breathalyzer test to check for banned alchemical substances.
The crowd hushed as Professor Sarva and the others returned to the sidelines.
“Everyone,” she announced, magnifying her voice with magic. “We come here today to witness the resolution of the challenge made by Arcturus of House Nightfeld to Clytemnestra of House Redbriar under the following terms…”
Nothing I didn’t already know. Her voice receded into the background noise as I examined my opponents.
Wraith, who smiled at me. What thoughts were going through his mind?
Acubens, who made a rude hand gesture at me. I was, in fact, wearing the most practical pair of the underwear he’d given me, deep burgundy silk boyshorts with scandalously placed lace cutouts. They were surprisingly comfortable. I’d play his games, and win more than he did.
Arcturus, who graced me with only an icy stare. The most powerful mage alive. Either we took him down, or he’d destroy all of us.
“... The additional rules for three on three duels are as follows. Combatants are out of the duel when their back remains in contact with the walls, floor, or ceiling for a count of ten seconds. After their name is called, they may then move to a designated corner of the dueling grounds or remain in place, but anything deemed by the judges as an attempt to interfere with the continued progression of the duel will result in their side’s disqualification. The side with the last remaining combatant standing wins.”
“Are there any questions? Very well, then.”
The walls around us flickered to life. Professor Sarva’s voice came through them, high and commanding.
“Begin.”
I shouted out a shielding spell even as Arcturus’s magic crashed forward in a tidal wave. He hadn’t waited a moment to strike.
I poured more magic out of me than I’d had the strength to do since I came to Wraithwood, slamming it against Arcturus’s offense in as wide and strong a shield I could manage. I needed to protect not only myself, but Darshan, whose silhouette blurred and shimmered next to me, pressed close to the ground. Like we’d planned, he was cloaked in illusion spells, wasting no time in placing the first magic circle segments.
At least I didn’t have to worry about Aegis, who was pushing through the assault, teeth clenched, his Spellbreaker tattoos flaring. While I kept Arcturus busy, he was supposed to strike deep into the Nightfeld’s side of the field, taking down Acubens and Wraith.
Squinting through the clash of our magic, I saw Arcturus’s silhouette standing tall, directing his magic with efficient jerks of his black-clad hands. He pressed harder, seeking weaknesses in my shield. A spike of magic threatened to drive through, forcing me to redirect my defenses to close around it. That thinned my shield elsewhere, and he took advantage with ruthless speed. More spikes. More near-breakthroughs, cracks spiderwebbing through my shield as fast as I could stop them.
Sweat trickled down my back as I strained to match Arcturus’s speed and might, meet every attack with defense. I was spread too thin, needing to cover both Darshan and myself. I wanted to hit back, but his barrage left me no room for breath, let alone magic. How had he not run out of magic yet? How the hell was he that strong? I gritted my teeth, enduring, hoping I was giving my teammates room to do their parts.
The assault stopped as suddenly as it had started.
Suspicious, I kept my shield up as I followed Arcturus’s gaze. He was looking toward his side of the field. At Aegis, and Wraith.
Wraith sat atop Aegis’s stomach, gazing back toward us, forearms propped on knees as if he’d casually sat down to watch a sporting event.
“Eight. Nine,” he said to us, as unmoved by Aegis’s struggles underneath him as if he were stone. How was that even possible? No mage would have any lower magic left to strengthen themselves with while in contact with Aegis. And yet he was pinning Aegis down effortlessly.
“Ten,” Wraith sighed.
“Combatant Aegis Daye is out of the duel,” said Professor Sarva, from the other side of the walls.
Wraith gave us a wink, then went to lie on the floor too, stretched out beside Aegis. “I told you I would keep things fair,” he said, watching us with a dreamy expression, as the crowd murmured outside.
I didn’t get to shoot him an outraged look, because Acubens