this logically. If she’s still under the invisibility spell, we should be able to trace Flynn’s magic to wherever she was last.”
Flynn visibly brightened, but I didn’t feel the same degree of optimism. “It’s a place to start.”
Tracing magic wasn’t a clear-cut process. We spent the next hour following remnants of Flynn’s magic, but none of them led to Imogen or even a hint as to where she’d gone. I’d give anything to be able to cut myself and let a drop of my blood direct us to her location on a map like I’d seen on a TV show once. Those mortals had interesting ideas about magic.
“This isn’t working,” I said, throwing a branch against the nearest tree so hard it snapped in half. “We need to abandon this plan and come up with a new one.”
“Wait a second.” Flynn turned abruptly and started running. “I’ve got something.”
Killian groaned but took off after him, slower than his usual pace. Flynn and I had tried to convince him to stay in his chambers and rest—he had almost drowned earlier today, after all—but he hadn’t listened. Stubbornness ran in the family.
“Here,” Flynn said triumphantly, coming to a stop near the loch. “She was here today, I can feel it. And someone opened a portal.”
“Okay, but a portal to where?”
He sighed. “Patience, brother.”
“What if she came here to lament?” Killian asked as he joined us, panting. “Someone could have heard her...”
“And handed her over to Nightmare Penitentiary,” I finished. There were notifications posted all over Tuatha warning of the fugitive banshee’s escape. Even with her invisibility, it wouldn’t take much for someone to figure out who she was. I knew from experience that her laments were unlike any other song.
Though Killian had pardoned her, he hadn’t yet taken the steps needed to make it official. Since Tuatha was currently without a king, the process had almost as much red tape as a mortal legal proceeding. We’d simply run out of time.
“That’s good, right?” Flynn asked somewhat hopefully. “If she’s in NP, at least we know where to find her.” His expression fell. “Though I hate the thought of her back in that fucking collar.”
“We need to get her out of there as soon as possible.” It wasn’t safe for her there, especially as a recaptured prisoner. But I didn’t say that part aloud. I could keep my pessimism to myself, this once.
Killian stepped forward, his hand stretched out. “Let’s go.” He twisted his hand to make a portal, but nothing happened.
He tried again—nothing.
“My magic,” he croaked. “I’m not strong enough.”
My stomach twisted. I could only imagine what he must be going through. He’d been growing weaker and weaker, and after everything that happened today, I hated this for him. Even more, I hated that I was powerless to fix it.
“It’s okay.” Flynn placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “I’ve got this.”
Just as he lifted his arm, I experienced the unwelcome feeling of being sucked through a vacuum, and a split-second later, I was standing on a platform in the middle of the amphitheater. Folk of Tuatha, as well as from neighboring kingdoms, filled every seat.
I realized immediately what was happening. These Folk weren’t competitors. They were spectators, waving flags, cheering, and even throwing flowers onto the arena floor.
Flynn stood next to me, looking as stunned as I felt, and I found Killian standing in a box above us with the tournament officials.
Oh, shit. I didn’t have just a bad feeling about this. I had a terrible, awful, horrendous feeling.
“They’re going to make us fight each other,” I told Flynn quietly, though there was no way to be heard over the roar of the crowd.
His eyes widened. “How? This isn’t even the final round.”
“This isn’t random. The King’s Tournament is all about the spectacle. ”
I searched out the other contestants and only found Culann and the strongest warrior from Emain Ablach. We were down to four. This whole tournament would be done before the night was over.
A loud bell rang, marking the start of a trial. There was no time to discuss it or devise a strategy.
A wall of weapons appeared within the amphitheater. Shit. We weren’t called upon to use our magic, or our wits, in this battle. It was a simple show of physical strength. The last man to walk out of here alive and whole was the champion. And, by default, the king of Tuatha.
I don’t want to fight you. Flynn’s voice in my head was strong and clear.
You