Chapter 78

SEVEN.

I thought that the stadium would fall silent, but it didn't. For some reason, some people are still cheering, sounding excited by this whole thing when they really shouldn't be. I don’t know what to feel about it. My whole body is still numb.

I reach the end of the line and the squire tries to help me adjust my armor, but I just get off my horse and run towards the Anatoly boy, who fell off his horse. He’s now lying down on the ground, an unmoving heap. It feels horrible that I don’t even know his name and now he’s bleeding on the ground, his blood seeping into the loose sand.

The broken piece of the jousting stick is still stuck in his throat. My legs are shaking, but I still run towards him. I don’t know if there’s anything left to do, but I’m ready to do just about anything to… make it better.

The healers are rushing into the venue, crowding around him. One of them removes his helmet and his breastplate, revealing the bloody mess accumulating under the layer of steel. The boy’s eyes are now glassy and empty, and my heart sinks.

He’s dead. Of course he is. I didn’t expect any other outcome because I saw it all happen right before my eyes, but I was clinging on to the tiny piece of hope that maybe he would make it out alive.

But no.

Blood is pooling around his body. Seeing all of that gushing out even with the piece of wood still lodged in his throat almost makes me sick. I try to push past the healers who aren’t even doing anything but stare at him in shock, but they block me.

“I’m sorry,” I try to say. “I didn’t mean to do it. I didn’t know… I’m so sorry….”

None of them are listening to me. The cheers are bothering me now. Amelie told me there’s already been two deaths before I even came out here. Now there are three. And everyone seems happy. I don’t know why they’re doing that, but it’s making my ears ring.

Two more people rush into the venue. It’s the Anatoly woman and who I assume is her husband. They head to the kid that’s bleeding out on the ground. I think they’re going to attack me, but the husband just passes me a look and doesn’t say anything.

I come close to them. “I’m sorry.”

The Anatoly woman just glances at me as the healers heave the boy into a stretcher. I thought she would be in tears, but her face looks as tough as ever.

“I didn’t mean to do it,” I say. “I was just meaning to knock him out—”

“I know, and he was doing something against the rules,” she says. “Hugh, my son, was never much of a thinker. He should have known, should have seen it coming. He got what was coming to him.”

The coldness shocks me. I step back as they follow the healers into one of the tents. The husband doesn’t say anything. It’s appalling, but then again, Dragons respect strength. Anything other than barbaric when it comes to these things is considered shameful.

They’re not going to give me trouble for it, I come to realize. They’re not going to cut me out of the game. But I almost want them to give me trouble for it. I feel like I deserve some punishment.

I go back to my line. The squire comes to me with my horse, but I shake my head. “I need a break. We need a break. We should end this now.”

All my words come out tumbling, but he catches all of them. “I’m sorry, but there is a final match. I can’t make you leave yet. I don’t think I’m allowed to.”

I open my mouth to ask him who I’m going up against next, but the answer comes before I can get the question out. I look around when I hear the sound of hooves beating on the dirt, coming face to face with a huge black horse and a rider with aged silver armor and a red plume on his helmet. I can see the eyes of the rider, and I realize that it’s Vlad.

The people have grown considerably silent. I can see them pointing at Vlad excitedly. I haven’t been around to see the other games in the tourney, but I suppose it’s safe to assume that Vlad is the one who swept the winnings because of this reaction.

I’m still shaking because of what happened, but the squire is looking at me expectantly. I get on my horse and take the jousting stick offered to me.

On the other side, Vlad is in position already. He’s completely poised, unfazed.

And when the whistle blows, he immediately charges on his horse.

It’s all too fast for me. One moment, I was staring at someone I killed. And right now, I’m charging towards danger again. I admit that I’m not in my element, and that’s why when Vlad shoves his stick into my breastplate, I almost swing off my horse.

I manage to hold on just with my legs, but the upper half of my body is already hanging low. I fling around, trying to find the reins and stay up.

The audience screams. Some of the people groan. I can hear others laughing. The mix of reactions propels me to do better, and I finally get back on the horse. But I’m already at the end of the line, and the round is done.

Vlad is raising his stick now, letting the people cheer for him. I can see that they… love him. Not only entertained by him. They seem to be genuinely happy seeing him excel.

Then I remember what Amelie said. About the council wanting to replace me.

Maybe he’s their bet.

As though confirming my suspicions, I catch sight of the Anatoly woman watching from the tent instead of properly mourning her son. She seems so happy to see Vlad almost winning after just a round.

Anger fills my heart. The others were so hellbent on punishing Humans, and I can piece together why they would want Vlad. Maybe he’s the sort of person who would allow such a thing. I can still remember how he talked about June, how he talked about Humans in general.

He can’t be trusted.

I find Amelie in the stands and see that she’s looking at me. She’s wringing her hands on her lap. She’s scared for me.

And only when I focus on Vlad do I realize why.

He’s smirking, moving along to the sound of the cheers around him. The squire helps his horse into position, and when the whistle rings in the air, he rages towards me.

I tap the sides of my horse with my heels, urging it to go faster. I get the jousting stick ready, positioned at the base of his neck where his armor leaves him vulnerable. We go faster and faster, the wind blowing in my face now. I’m sure this will get me a victory….

But then I see something strange.

Vlad positions his jousting stick, and I notice something glinting at the tip. Something pointy and made of gold. But the dark glimmer of it tells me that it’s not just normal gold—it’s cured gold. The type that is lethal to us Dragons. The type that can rip through our skin, which still has the strength of scales even in Human form.

And he’s aiming it right at my face, particularly at the holes for my eyes.

Everything happens so fast. We pull level, and Vlad shoves the tip of his jousting stick into my helmet. The blade sweeps through my skin as I close my eyes, creating a long gash from my forehead to my cheek. Blood flows out, warm and sticky, and I find myself crashing right down from my horse.

I open my eyes, blinking through the blood as the audience erupts into cheers. I can still see. He didn’t take my eye out. But he wounded me.

And he defeated me.

The knowledge of it beats through me like a drum. I get to my feet, taking off my helmet and seeing blood spattering on the ground, gold at first then turning red. Healers are crowding over me. They’re taking me to another tent. So many things are happening. Everything is so loud. Emptiness is filling me up, and I don’t know what to do.

I sit in the tent for what feels like forever. The gash on my face has not stopped bleeding. That’s just the effect of the cured gold. I’m just holding a towel over it, trying to snap back into it.

But then the tent flaps open, and someone comes in.

I look up, thinking it’s my parents or Amelie, but it’s just Professor Venetia.

“How are you doing, Seven?” he asks.

I just look at him. “What does it look like to you, Headmaster?”

He doesn’t say anything to that. He just sits next to me and sighs. “You know, I really wanted you to be the King. You have the compassion that I would say is not very present among our kind. They say the absence of the Crown removes us farther and farther from kindness, and I agree. You heard them at the meeting. They hate me for mixing Human kids with you Dragons. They hate my family for starting the school and that tradition.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

Professor Venetia looks at me. “Because you need to understand that this is not my decision.”

My heart drops. “The what? What isn’t your decision?”

“You are no longer the candidate for King. They are naming Vladimir Donovan as the Dragon King, for the strength he showed today.”