Camilla lay on her hospital bed in the stadium triage. A lot of things hurt like hell.

She'd managed to walk to the triage with the support of the two medical staff, though in hindsight she should have just accepted the shame of the stretcher. Victor had already commandeered the bed closest to the entrance, so they led Camilla to the opposite end so that they were separated by several curtained-off beds.

Before Sister Megan could take a look at her, VP Leslie stormed into the room. With a whisper of magic she threw back the curtains ringing every bed so that both Victor and Camilla could see her, and each other.

"Both of you came very, very close to lethal force," VP Leslie said. "Vincent, that first strike was voted on by the judging committee, and only allowed by a vote of 3-2 in favour." She turned to Camilla. "D'Angelo, those magic-propelled strikes in your armour were the same. You're both incredible mages, there's no doubt about that, but at your power levels, learning restraint is more important than anything else. D'Angelo, if you can fight next week, I expect to see better control. Swift recoveries to you both."

VP Leslie didn't wait around for a response. She turned on her heel and stalked out of the triage. Camilla made brief eye contact with Victor, then the curtains whirred back around their beds, cutting him off from her line of sight. They'd only met gazes for a moment, but it had been enough for Camilla to see that he was having the same thought as her:

What a load of crap.

Quickly after, Sister Megan examined Camilla's shoulders and forearm. When she was done poking and prodding with her soft hands and tendrils of Decomp magic, she stood up and placed her hands on her ample hips and glared at Camilla as if it were her fault she was injured.

"There is what I believe to be a hairline fracture in your forearm. Easily fixable," Sister Megan said. "Your shoulders are another story. Both your anterior and your lateral delts are torn. Your anterior delts are especially in a depressing state. Your biceps tendons have small tears as well."

"Can you fix them?" Camilla asked, suddenly anxious. What if she wouldn't recover in time for the Grand Final? That's what had happened to Blake, and they'd forced him to forfeit. His forearms had been shattered, though, and it didn't sound like her own injuries were that bad.

"It's not a question of whether I can fix them, young lady," Sister Megan scoffed. "It's a question of whether you will learn your lesson. The next time something like that happens, you let yourself fly out of bounds."

"What! But-"

"No buts! You may have a lot of magical firepower, but your body is still human. If you push it past its limits too many times, eventually all the latent magic stored in your body will dry up and no amount of healing magic will be able to heal you. You have a long life and maybe even a lot of scuffles in your future. Don't waste your body on things like the tournament. Promise me you won't do this in the final, and I will heal you."

"So you can heal me for the final?" Camilla sat up, then winced.

"If I heal you today, you'll make a full recovery for the final. But you have to promise not to do this again."

"What?" Camilla cried. "No! I'm not promising anything. It's your job to heal me, so heal me!"

Sister Megan's baby face darkened. She folded her arms. "I will refuse. The Academy can send for another Sister of my talents but by the time they arrive it will be too late to heal you for the final."

Camilla pursed her lips, face growing hot. She stared down sister Megan, nearly shaking with fury.

Sister Megan was unfazed.

"Fine," Camilla relented. She would have crossed her arms but her shoulders groaned at the idea. "I promise I won't."

"That wasn't very convincing."

Camilla sighed. "I won't do that again. I won't do something reckless like that. I promise."

Sister Megan accepted it with a nod.

"Now, release your magic and lie back and close your eyes. I'll start with your right shoulder."

----------------------------------------

When Camilla was declared the winner the crowd roared, but no one cheered harder than Jacob and the rest of the gang. Having her get to the final was like having a family member get to the final. He'd had no doubt in his heart that she could do it, but still, it was a relief, especially after how strong Victor had come out the gate.

You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

The entire crowd was excited. The Grand Finals had been set, and even though it was still a week away, it seemed all anyone could talk about while they were herding out of the stadium.

Would Camilla, the 'hometown hero' win? Or would Tanaka swoop in as the transfer student and take the title? Most people seemed to want Camilla to win. Couldn't have someone from a different school come in and trounce everyone. But others liked Tanaka. He was an unnamed underdog with no relevant family coming in and walloping the heralded heiress.

The campus seemed primed for a party night. It was the weekend, and probably the last weekend before people would start gearing up for exams. The gang went to the cafe, then planned to head back to Archie's dorm while they put out feelers to anyone who had plans or was cooking something up. Jacob couldn't in good conscience join them. Not yet.

Camilla had texted Grace that she was staying overnight at the triage and would be bedridden at least until late tomorrow, but that for the most part she was alright. The gang planned to visit her the next morning. What a way to celebrate a victory, huh?

But for Jacob, it meant he could in good—well, relatively good—conscience, corner her and tell her what he'd been meaning to tell her and should have told her months ago.

A chickenshit part of him wanted to put it off until after, stating that he should let her focus on the Final, but she was bedridden anyway for the next day, and he knew that telling her after the Grand Final would be worse, even weaker than this.

He told the others he'd meet up with them later, and made his way back to the stadium. The undercroft was empty, the hallways dim and echoey.

He reached the triage, and suppressed the anxiety he felt. He had to do this. He had to face the consequences. Wasn't that what doing the right thing was all about? And Camilla would understand, right?

Sister Megan met him at the entrance to the triage.

"You again?" She narrowed her eyes. "I should just whip up a bed for you at this point."

"I'm here to see Camilla D'Angelo," Jacob said. "I just want to check in on her, nothing too intense." He lied.

Sister Megan sighed. "Fine." She opened the door further and stepped out of his way.

Jacob entered the triage and started walking along the curtained-off beds. He expected to see Victor, but if the boy had been here, he was gone now.

Camilla was in the bed furthest from the door. He walked around the end. For a moment she didn't see him. She was propped up, sitting in the bed under the white linens. Bandages were wrapped around her shoulders. She was reading a textbook, her head tilted down, a few twirls her curly hair hanging in front of her face.

Leave it to her to be studying after winning the semi-final. Jacob smiled. She looked so serene he didn't want to speak, didn't want to shatter the image, didn't want to say what he had to say.

Camilla looked up. Her face brightened, which just wrenched Jacob's heart further.

"Jacob! What are you doing here?" Camilla asked.

He almost laughed at the question. He was nervous, as if it were his first time talking to her. "I just came to check on you. How are you doing?"

Camilla shrugged, then winced. "I'm okay. Sister Megan says I'll be healthy for the Grand Final, thank God."

"Yeah," Jacob said. "Tanaka, eh?"

Camilla tapped the book. "Brushing up on my Decomp transformation spells and variants. Need to be ready."

"That's good," Jacob said. He paced without realizing it. Better to just get it over with. "Um, Camilla, there's something I need to tell you."

"What?" Her voice deadened. She looked wary, like a cornered cat.

"Look, I'm sorry. I've been putting this off for a while. I should have told you sooner."

"Jacob..." Camilla warned. "Don't say something stupid."

Stupid? Jacob shook his head.

"I uh..." Jesus Christ. "Remember how Tanaka and I went to the morgue and did," he looked around and lowered his voice, "Necromancy without you that time?"

Camilla blinked, clearly surprised. "Yes...?"

"Well, his condition for helping me was... to tell him what I knew about your magical abilities."

He should have softened it with something, anything, but he couldn't conjure anything and he let it hang there in the air between them like a fool.

Camilla's face had become a scary mask. "And you told him?"

Jacob cringed at her voice. "Yes. I had to. It was the-" He cut the automatic wave of excuses off and forced himself to look her in the eyes. He instantly regretted it. "I wanted to tell you sooner but I... I... I chickened out. I'm sorry. I should ha-"

"Get out," Camilla said, as cold as a corpse.

Jacob blinked. "But-"

"GET OUT! NOW!" She shrieked.

Jacob turned and scurried from the room. His heart pounded. Christ, he'd expected her to be angry, but not like that. He left the triage, head down, hurrying through the undercroft.

He couldn't think. He just heard her voice shrieking at him over and over in his head. She hadn't just been angry, that had been something else. Something he didn't know the name of. What had he been thinking? Oh no, he'd just ruined their... whatever it was? Would she ever speak to him again?

He was close to tears. He bit his lips to keep from crying. He couldn't bring himself to head back out to campus so he just hurried up to the stands. The arena was empty. The rows and rows of seats were phantom spectators on an unseen fight. He threw himself down in the front row and laid his head in his hands on the barrier ringing the arena.

Christ, he felt like shit. What had he done? Should he have kept it to himself? It would have eaten at him. Telling the truth was supposed to be the right thing. He thumped his head repeatedly against the barrier, cringing at how avoidable the whole thing was. Why hadn't he told her earlier? Why? He could have just gone up to her after that Necromancy escapade and come clean, then none of this would have happened and he wouldn't feel like shit and he wouldn't have ruined his relationship with her; with the only person he genuinely trusted in the whole world.

How would he tell the others? Would she? Would they still hang out in the group? Should he have suffered her rage and stayed in the triage until she calmed down? He didn't know anything. He was so fucking stupid it was a miracle he was alive. It was a miracle he didn't mess up every single good thing in his life.

Paltry, muted frustration mixed with his panic. Why was he this way? Why couldn't he have just told her? Why did he have to chicken out? Why didn't he know what to do in situations like this? Why did everything have to be so complicated? What the fuck was wrong with him?

Jacob tilted his head back and gazed up through the open stadium roof, into the darkness, his eyes burning with anguish and anger.