Part 2 (1/2)

”It's really him!” Indie says. ”It's the-”

”Joe Vince,” Jonathan says. He makes a move like he wants to block the man from my view with all three hundred pounds of himself.

I hold my hand up to stop him.

The man's lips part into a cheeky grin. He winks at Indie and then looks at me. ”'Ello, Daphne,” he says. ”It's been a long time.”

I let go of the balloon strings.

”Dad,” I say.

”What are you doing here?” Jonathan demands.

”Didn't your mother tell you yet?” Joe says to me in his British accent, which must have once charmed my mom off her feet. ”A judge granted me custody. I'm taking you to live with me in California.”

A loud bang echoes above my head as one of the red balloons bobbing against the rough popcorn ceiling bursts.

chapter three.

haden

Rowan lies in wait for me in the antechamber beyond the throne room. I would not expect any less from him.

I slow to a halt and try to place my hand on the hilt of my sword to show him I am ready for any attack he has planned, but then I remember the weapon was taken from me by one of Ren's guards.

Never mind. Hand-to-hand combat suits me just fine. Several Underlords step around me, most gawking as they go, trying to get a good look at the king's disgraced son, who is now the lone Champion for our year.

The Lessers, who are not allowed to wear armor outside of the ceremony, stop to remove their bronze breastplates and leather wrist cuffs before returning to their labors. I am not surprised to see Lord Lex standing near Rowan and a couple of other Elites who've congregated near the exit. My hands grow hot, p.r.i.c.kling with energy, as I think of the things Lex suggested in the throne room.

Lex whispers something to the Elites that I cannot hear. Rowan nods and laughs, glancing in my direction. Fire rings gleam in his eyes.

I hope to the G.o.ds that Rowan issues a challenge now. It would be my duty to riposte.

Lex clasps his hands in the sleeves of his robe and takes his leave, presumably to join the other Heirs.

Only a handful of Underlords remain in the antechamber now, and I wonder if Rowan wants our fight to be a private affair, rather than the spectacle I predicted. I decide to push the issue by advancing toward Rowan-when someone collides into me.

At first, I think I am being attacked from the side, and I raise my hand to strike, but then I see that the clumsy fool who has gotten in my way is nothing but a scrawny boy. With a twist in the strap of the heavy, ill-fitting breastplate that drapes over his sagging shoulders. He's the Lesser who stood in front of me during the ceremony.

”Watch it!” I shout instead of striking him.

The boy glances at me and gives the smallest nod. Again, I feel as though I should know him. ”My apologies, my lord,” he says and scurries away as fast as he can toward the exit.

It is now that Rowan chooses to make his move. But it's not toward me. He signals two of his chimera-faced lackeys to follow his lead. They step in front of the doorway, and the Lesser boy, not paying attention, runs right into Rowan's chest.

”Where do you think you are going?” Rowan asks him.

The boy trembles. Rowan's menacing glower makes him take a step back. ”Returning to my barracks, Lord Rowan,” he says. ”As I was instructed.”

”And you were going to take your borrowed armor with you?” Rowan points at the stack of breastplates where the other Lessers have left theirs behind. ”You know what we do to thieves.”

”Yes,” the boy says. ” I mean, no. I wasn't stealing. I just forgot. I was distracted.” He glances slightly back toward me.

My impulse is to look away, but I can't.

”Then let us help you get out of it.” Rowan wraps his hand around the boy's left wrist cuff, and one of Rowan's friends clutches on to the twisted leather strap that lies across the boy's back.

Before the Lesser can even try to fight back, Rowan and his crony both yank viciously on the boy's armor, pulling him in opposite directions. The boy screams. The noise echoes off the walls and fills my ears, but I can still hear the sickening sound of his shoulder being dislocated from its socket.

I react before I even have a chance to think twice. I push my way through the bystanders who still remain in the antechamber. My hands clutch into fists. I can feel a current of electricity surging up my body.

Rowan lets go of the boy and pushes him away. The Lesser whimpers and sinks to the stone floor, his arm hanging at an unnatural angle. Rowan opens his mouth to laugh, but I smash my fist into his jaw before he can make a sound. He slams into the doorjamb, and I hit him with a bolt of lightning to the chest.

Rowan's two friends try to grab me from behind, but he waves them away. ”He's mine,” he sputters, and b.a.l.l.s his fists. He charges at me and returns my attack. He flings a bolt of lightning at me, which I dodge, but then he grabs me by the shoulders. We grapple, knocking into the stacks of discarded armor, sending them scattering. Rowan slams his ringed hand into my forehead. I feel the newly healing cut above my eyebrow break open. The sting of it makes me stronger, and I don't let Rowan get a chance to swing again. I spring at him and smash my throbbing forehead against his, slam him to the ground, and then pin him there with one of my knees on his chest.

A second bolt of electricity shudders through my body. The energy bursts into my arms and explodes from my fingertips.

Rowan screams as I direct the crackling streaks of blue lightning into his rib cage a second time. His body writhes in agony and I imagine the electricity clenching his heart like a taloned paw, squeezing the life from it.

The energy dissipates so quickly, it nearly knocks me back. Rowan tries to roll away. I grab him by the throat with one hand and lift my other over his heart, preparing to blast him again.

Rowan and I both know a third jolt of lightning will stop his heart completely.

”No,” he croaks through cracked lips.

”Then say it.” I keep my voice cold like King Ren's, not giving away the anger that boils behind my words.

Rowan shakes his head. I can smell the singed hair on his skin.

”Never,” he says.

A gasp ripples through the small crowd of Underlords who've circled around us. I tighten my grip on his throat. I can feel his pulse hammering against my hand. Energy that has been building up inside of me courses through my free arm, and I flex my fingers as wisps of blue light lace between them like webbing.

Rowan flinches.

I do not.

”Say it,” I demand. ”Say it, or you're done.”

Another sound of shock escapes the crowd of Underlords. They know the rules of a proper challenge.

The loser must invoke elios-a cry for mercy-or face death at the hands of the victor. The others wonder if I mean what I threaten. Their doubt gives me more strength to accomplish the deed.

”Lord Haden, don't,” I hear Dax say. I don't remember him being in the antechamber before now, but I know it must be him without taking my eyes off Rowan's face. Dax is the only one whose standing is low enough among this group to feel free to show concern. ”Rowan has had enough. Let him go.” By the sound of his voice, he's moving closer. ”What would your father think?” I know exactly what Ren would think. Only a coward wouldn't finish off an opponent who doesn't properly relent.