then goes through the rules “for anyone who might need a refresher.”
Every player must hold the comet (a large ball about six inches in diameter that magically vibrates painfully and heats the longer a player holds it) at least once in every match.
There are magical handicaps in place so that yes, one player can be faster or stronger than another, or be able to turn them into a turtle even (everyone laughs at that joke), but no spell or burst of speed or supernatural strength lasts more than ten seconds.
The only exception is flight, which can last up to twenty seconds at a time. So clearly a team with good flyers is going to have a slight advantage. I glance at Flint, and we fist-bump on that one.
All abilities that time out recharge every thirty seconds. I can tell from this rule, timing of when to use your speed or strength or flight or whatever so you have it when you need it is going to require a lot of strategy—and luck.
Everyone has been given a magical bracelet to prevent any serious injury. Dragon fire or ice, vampire bites, wolf claws and bites, and even witch’s spells can all still hurt like a bitch, but there’s no actual damage.
And of course, a player in mortal danger would immediately be magically transported to the sidelines and marked as permanently out of that match.
Despite all the rules, the actual game play is pretty simple. Get the comet across your goal line before your opposing team does the same—without breaking the rules.
Cyrus finishes his recitation of the regulations and then postures on for a while about interspecies cooperation, like he invented the game himself—which is made more entertaining by Hudson’s snarky comments about Cyrus liking the sound of his own voice more than anyone else in the entire stadium. He’s sitting directly behind me, the only one in the whole row, and I can tell he likes it that way. Even before he stretches out on the bench, sunglasses on, and heckles his father.
His insults are so inventive that I’m a little sad I’m the only one who gets to enjoy them. Then again, I’m pretty sure they’d get our team ejected from the tournament if anyone else heard him call the king a slack-jawed numby, so there is that…
Eventually, Cyrus calls the first two teams down to the field and blunders through introductions because he never bothered to figure out how to pronounce their names before he called them down. It’s the most arrogant—and also the most normal—school thing I’ve seen the whole time I’ve been at Katmere. I mean, besides having watched my uncle fidget with the sound system as he tried to get it to work.
Once the teams are introduced—I decide I’m rooting for team two, because it’s got Luca and Byron on it—Cyrus opens up the case that’s been lying at the center of the field since I got here this morning.
He announces into the microphone that Nuri—Flint’s mom—is going to be in charge of this tip-off, and we all have to wait while she walks out from the sidelines. I grin as I realize she’s dressed much more casually than Cyrus in a pair of jeans and a black turtleneck, and it only makes him look like more of a tool. Not that he needs much help in that department.
Cyrus motions to the box with a flourish but makes no move to pick up the comet.
Nuri leans over and picks up the black and purple object—and can I just say it’s a lot more interesting-looking than I anticipated, a shiny black ball inside a purple metal netting—and holds it up in front of her. The entire stadium screams and cheers until the whole place feels like it’s shaking with excitement.
The playing field is completely empty of markings except for a small box directly in the center of the grass and two purple lines—one on either side of the box—about ten feet away from it, which run the vertical length of the field.
The longer she holds the comet, the louder everyone cheers. This goes on for at least two minutes, and then she walks to the box at the center and steps on the raised platform, the comet still in her hand. I genuinely don’t think the crowd can get any louder.
But when she holds out the ball—that has now turned a bright red—to the spectators as if offering it, her gaze going back and forth from one side