Contents ( 48)
- Dedication
- Map
- Contents
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Thirty-Three
- Thirty-Four
- Three Months Later
- Thirty-Five
- Thirty-Six
- Thirty-Seven
- Thirty-Eight
- Thirty-Nine
- About the Author
- Books by Kiera Cass
- Back Ad
- Copyright
- About the Publisher
“The other rider is vicious,” I commented to Scarlet. “The way he moves is so intense. I don’t think the black armor helps.”
“Yes, it does make Sir Scanlan look a little forbidding. And he’s always been a very formidable opponent. I think Father lost to him a few times ages ago. But Etan . . . I’ve never seen him do so well.”
“Huh. I guess he finally found an outlet for all that pent-up anger.” And thank goodness, because I’d had about all I could stand.
“Hmm” was all Scarlet said in reply. Something in the hitched slant of her smile told me she was up to her favorite pastime: watching everything and revealing nothing.
I clutched her hands as Etan and Sir Scanlan pulled up to their marks, holding my breath as the flag dropped. They raced toward one another, lances locked into position, both of them breaking with a sharp snap as they smashed into each other’s shields. Both of them split their lances, earning them each a point.
As they took their next run, a knot formed in my stomach as they both split their lances again, leaving the entirety of the competition down to the very last run.
“I think it has been an hour. Do you want to leave now?” Scarlet asked.
“Very funny.”
Our eyes were locked on the two riders, knowing this was it. Honestly, I’d started the day just hoping Etan didn’t break a limb, but now, knowing there were people seeing this as him being unafraid of Coroa, knowing that there were people prepared to lend their aid to the Northcotts . . . and knowing those three girls from earlier were squirming in their seats, watching him compete with my favor, I wanted him to win.
I was on my feet as he rode, unable to stay down, my fists clenched with hope and my voice already scratchy from hours of very unladylike yelling. Etan’s lance made contact with Sir Scanlan’s shield . . . and Sir Scanlan’s lance glanced off the side of Etan’s armor, which remained perfectly intact.
The arena erupted in cheers, and I embraced Scarlet, crying with joy.
My voice was gone from screaming, and my body was aching from tensing up each time he ran. And it was all worth it. Etan had won!
Eighteen
BY LATE AFTERNOON, MOTHER, SCARLET, Uncle Reid, Aunt Jovana, and I had happily settled beneath the shade of a tree on the outskirts of the field. There was ale and berries and someone walking around delivering the drumsticks of a bird I’d never heard of or tasted before.
It was a decidedly different feel from Coroa. The air wasn’t as soft somehow, and every once in a while, the wind would whip up my hair. I still had the sense of otherness about myself, and simple things like the shape of the trees reminded me that this wasn’t just another tournament. But the company made up for anything that was lacking, and I found myself unable to stop smiling.