House of Dragons (Royal Houses #1) - K.A. Linde Page 0,85

is he doing? If he’s not careful, he won’t finish in time.”

Kerrigan shrugged. “I don’t know what he’s doing.”

But she could see that Valia was right. It looked like two or three of the other competitors had already located all three pieces of their medallion and were hastening upward after Audria’s miraculous first-place win.

“She’ll get to enter the third task first before everyone else.”

Kerrigan worried at her lip. Had she made a mistake in telling Fordham about the raven medallion? He’d already be finished and climbing the platform to meet Audria if Kerrigan hadn’t told him about the raven. But the visions hadn’t been wrong. They were typically painful but not wrong. She had to trust them even if he was likely cursing her name.

Another bell rang out.

“Taiga,” Valia said.

Kerrigan paled. Venatrix in second was not good for anything. More warrior tribe Society members meant more war.

“Come on, Fordham,” she whispered under her breath.

Another bell.

“Chelcie of Galanthea.”

Kerrigan shuddered. Great. Two warrior tribes in the top three.

“They’ll both go in after Audria,” Valia told her.

Another bell.

“Roake,” Kerrigan said softly. She certainly knew the competitor from Elsiande. The boy who harassed her in the halls and was likely in love with Audria.

“Surprised to see the tribes who don’t participate in magic doing well this year,” Valia mused.

“They still do magic,” Kerrigan said. “They just think it should be used for other means.”

“Like getting rid of it.”

Kerrigan shrugged. “Maybe less magic would be better for some people.”

Valia’s eyes flared wide in anger. “Are you one of those people who think that the Society should have less power? Because they are the only thing keeping this city in check.”

“I’ve lived my entire life in the mountain. I don’t think that I’m against the Society, but that doesn’t mean that I can’t have an opinion on their policies.”

She opened her mouth to argue, but Kerrigan gasped, cutting her off.

Darrid of Herasi, the competitor that Fordham had humiliated in the last task, was sneaking up on Fordham from behind as he dug through one of the boxes on the platform. Fordham stood, a look of triumph on his face as he slid the third piece of his medallion into place. Then Darrid was there. And just like in her vision, everything fell apart.

A shove, a scream, hands reaching out.

And then Fordham was free-falling toward the arena water below.

31

The Fall

Fordham fell.

His body moved past one, two, three platforms. His momentum carrying him faster and faster and faster toward that impending water. The water that would push him out of the tournament forever.

Kerrigan could hear cheers and boos from the stands. Some who were mad that Darrid had pushed Fordham. Others who were delighted to see the prince of the House of Shadows fall. But she was focused on him soaring through the air. He had no magic. He couldn’t buffer his fall. He couldn’t slow himself. He could do nothing but drop.

She put her hands over her eyes, peering out through a slit in her fingers. Her stomach was in knots. There wasn’t a single thing that she could do.

“Fordham!” she cried despite herself.

And then, with the dexterity only she had seen him move with, he reached out at the last second and grasped on to the final platform with one hand. There was a sickening snap as something broke or dislocated in his arm. An inhuman snarl ripped from him, reverberating throughout the arena.

He’d saved himself. He’d done it.

Then she saw the real horror. He wasn’t holding the medallion. He’d dropped it. It fell slower than him with less mass to carry it down. It drifted toward the water, as if calling itself home.

Fordham’s eyes were wide with pain, but still, he managed to reach out and pluck the medallion out of thin air. It dangled on a finger, the length of the ribbon just barely caught. He didn’t even dare breathe as he slowly slid it down his finger and clenched the thing in his fist. With a sigh of relief, he slid the medallion over his head and began the arduous process of climbing back up to the lowest platform.

By this time, it was clear that all competitors had found their medallion pieces and were now climbing the slippery platform to try to be one of the final eight competitors. Fordham was on the bottom rung. To make it through to the final task, he still had to beat two other competitors to the top of the platform.

With another disgusting pop, Fordham wrenched his

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