The other Great Ladies share a knowing look while Adair grits her teeth, a muscle twitching along her jaw-line. “Quiet, Avery! I’ll get to you in a second.” The Scala Heir inhales a deep breath, and then gestures to the girl seated next to Gianna.

“This is Lady Keisha from the House of Horus.” Adair points to a girl in a bronze gown with ebony skin, large mismatched eyes, and dreadlocks down to her waist. Keisha sends me a smile that’s somehow warm and icy at the same time.

Adair nods to the next girl in line, who wears a blue gown. “Here we have Lady Nita from the House of Kamal.” She has creamy cocoa skin, striking bone structure, long brown hair, and nasty sneer on her face. Adair doesn’t bother to point to the girl at the end of the row. “I guess you already met Avery. She’s from the House of Acca, like me.”

Avery waves again. “Hello, Myla! So nice to see you again.”

I force on my best smile. “Hello, everyone.”

Adair turns her attention to my gown. She eyes me from head to toe. Twice.

I bite my bottom lip. Here it comes.

“You look very festive, Miss Lewis.” The rest of the Great Ladies snicker.

I’m about to cause another inter-realm incident when an older, plump man with receding red hair steps onto the tournament green, a crossbow in his hand. His barrel chest almost bursts out of his black-and-yellow tunic. Avery claps her hands and points. “Look, there’s father!”

The Scala Heir shares a snide glance with Gianna. “We can all see him, Avery.”

The Earl of Acca raises his thick arms high. “Welcome to the autumn tournament and exhibition! This display of fighting skill prepares us for the real event, the winter tournament, where the greatest warrior in Antrum will be named!” The crowd breaks out into wild applause. “Of course, I’m hoping it will be Acca’s honor this year.” The applause dies down.

The Earl lifts his crossbow. “I’ll begin today’s exhibition with a display of my own fighting skill against a dreaded Limus demon!”

I grimace. I sure hope it’s not Sheila.

The fence on one end of the tournament grounds swings open. A Limus demon floats through, its body a towering mass of green goo. I scan the face. Not Sheila, whew.

The Earl of Acca loads a metal bolt into his crossbow and starts firing. The missiles fly harmlessly through the goopy demon and thud into the wooden wall around the field.

I nudge the Scala Heir with my elbow. “He’s not really using a crossbow against a Limus, is he?”

“What’s a Limus?” She frowns. “Oh, that green thing. Father knows what he’s doing. He’s a thrax, Miss Lewis.”