"Who is she fighting?" Jacob asked. He'd wished he'd been able to look more closely at who his friends were fighting but he'd been too caught up in his own opponent.

"The 24th seed," Blake said. "Riley LaForce."

Archie sucked a breath in through his teeth. "They had a fairly good showing last week if I remember correctly. Strong Consumer?"

Blake nodded.

"Tough matchup for her," Archie said.

"I know," Blake said. "Rough seeding."

"But, if you want to win the whole thing you have to be able to beat anyone," Archie said.

Camilla returned to her seat and settled in.

"How is she doing?" Blake said. "Archie and I were just talking about how this is a tough matchup for her."

"She's fine. She's never been an anxious one, and I think that helps her here."

The announcer called out Grace's name, who stepped into the arena. She had her long hair tied back in a tight bun.

Her opponent emerged from the other side. Riley LaForce was a tall, spindly girl with a shock of short hair dyed so brightly red that it stood out against the clay arena and grey stadium like a traffic light.

"Contestants get ready!"

"C'mon Gracie," Camilla whispered.

"Start!"

LaForce engaged strength-resilience and ran forward. Grace raised a block of clay between them and pushed it forward, much as she had done in the first match. LaForce danced back and to the side, skirting around the edge of the block. Grace must have anticipated this, because she shot a forceward that smacked into LaForce right as she rounded the edge of the block. LaForce went sprawling back across the ground and landed in a heap.

"That's it, Grace!" Blake called.

Grace raised another block of clay and pushed it forward. LaForce scrambled to her feet and dove out of the way. She kept her distance this time, dancing from one foot to the next instead of closing the gap. Grace pushed another block forward and LaForce dodged it again.

A small forceward whickered out of LaForce. Jacob sat forward. The girl had cast the spell in an instant, hardly even moving her hands. The flare of Production there and gone again like a single blip of Morse code.

Grace switched from offence to defence seamlessly. She threw her hands up and the quarter-dome of a ward shimmered into being in front of her. LaForce's forceward shattered on Grace's dome, but it gave LaForce the opening she needed. She grinned and launched towards Grace, Consumption pulsing out of her. Grace twisted her hands. Her ward lengthened, then shot out at LaForce. LaForce juked to the side, then pounced at Grace.

Grace launched herself back by blasting Production out of her hands into the ground. LaForce trailed, following Grace's trajectory. Grace dodged back and forth across the arena, LaForce dogging her, always one step shy. They zigged and zagged like a cheetah and a gazelle, Grace dodging, LaForce angling, a predatory grin on her face.

"Grace must break away," Archie said. "She's simply using too much magic."

Jacob nodded. Grace's accuracy with the Production blasts was impressive, but they weren't as efficient as the strength-resilience spell. They'd learned in Magical Basics last week that while there were often more than one way to accomplish a goal using magic, usually one method was far more efficient than the others.

Grace feinted and LaForce fell for it, leaping forward and skidding to a halt, heels digging into the ground, churning up chunks of clay, and suddenly there was a moment's whisper between them.

Grace twisted midair, power gathering in her fists. She launched a massive blast of translucent energy that shimmered through the air at LaForce. LaForce leapt up. The blast cratered the ground beneath her, sending a fountain of clay into the air. LaForce lost her balance, tumbled to the ground, rolled, and came up running at Grace.

Grace landed and threw another blast at LaForce. LaForce didn't dodge, didn't run. Instead she brought up her own ward and barrelled through. Grace's blast hit the ward, shattered through it, and rippled along LaForce like a strong wind. LaForce staggered through and then she was free, breaking towards Grace. Ten feet away, then five.

Grace hesitated.

LaForce closed the gap. Grace started to cast something but it was too late. LaForce barrelled into her, grabbed one arm, spun and threw Grace out of bounds.

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

"Lin is out of bounds! LaForce wins!"

The crowd roared at the upset.

"Fuck!" Blake cried.

"Grace, no!" Camilla sagged.

Jacob sat back in his chair and put his hand to his head. Grace had lost. Grace had lost. Camilla and Archie had been so dominant this morning he had been starting to believe that none of their group could lose.

On the arena floor Grace had propped herself up on one elbow. She looked stunned. LaForce pumped her fist in the air. Her cry of victory was lost in the crowd's roar.

Grace picked herself up and hurried out of the arena, head down.

"Oh, lord," Camilla said. She rose from her seat. "I'd better go check on her," she placed her hand on Jacob's forearm. "I'll be back for your match. Good luck."

The hairs on Jacob's arm raised. "O-Okay," he said dumbly. "Thanks."

Then her hand was gone and she was hurrying down the aisle. Jacob watched her go.

"Needs to practice focusing her attacks more," Archie was saying to Blake. "Those blasts towards the end were too raw, too fluid to pack enough of a punch to stop LaForce."

"Okay, that's what I thought," Blake nodded. "Cuz I know she has the raw firepower to do that."

"It appears she became a little rattled. Though I cannot blame her. That LaForce came out with more than anyone expected. Grace did fairly well, considering her limitations in combat."

Jacob rubbed his arm absently where Camilla had touched it, listening to the other two analyze the fight, only half aware of what they were saying. The arena floor and the ward were reset, and then the next match was announced.

And then the tournament aide was there.

"Jacob Caibo? Your Prep Room is ready."

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

Grace knew she should just go back up and sit with the rest of them.

But she didn't want to.

She walked through the stadium undercroft, head down, feet finding their way towards one of the exits and the bright sunshine beyond. She let out a sigh, half sorrow, half relief. She had no idea what to do next. All she knew was that the whole rest of the day was open to her.

She should probably go watch Jacob's match but she had the excuse of losing her match. She'd go to the cafeteria and get something to eat. Really sit down and enjoy it now that she was done with the tournament.

She took her pins out of her hair and let it fall down around her shoulders. She didn't feel bad about being relieved, even though a part of her wanted to. The tournament was over, done with. Now she just had to focus on school. So much more time on her hands without having to train and practice for her matches.

Oh, but none of them would get it. They'd look at her like she was a crazy person. So tiring being around that group all the time. It had probably started while watching Blake win his match.

I wouldn't do that.

Not a chance.

Where had he pulled that willpower from? Where had he gotten the ability to seek out pain like that? A part of her wanted to know what that was like, to be able to make yourself do crazy stuff like that. A part of her wanted to be like that, like him, even for a little bit. She'd wanted to muster up the nerve to ask him how he did it, but that would have been way, way too obvious. At least now she didn't have to worry about it.

Or with Camilla's training. How did she work that hard?

But maybe it was for the best. They both seemed overly stressed out. Which was maybe fine for Blake, but it wasn't a good look for Camilla. Oh, no. She'd have frown lines marring her perfect, golden skin too young. If Grace was as beautiful as her, she wouldn't stress about things like the tournament. She wouldn't stress about anything. Anyone she wanted, girls or boys, would come falling head over heel for her. Camilla never seemed to want to talk about it either. Too busy training or studying some boring concept. Ugh... So frustrating sometimes.

She could always hide under the excuse of being a weak Consumer, but at the end of the day she just didn't care that much about the tournament. She'd never really found the idea of being a Ranger all that appealing either, but being around that group, all of whom seemed to be desperately, almost excruciatingly obsessed with being strong, had made her realize that her mother had been right. She had to be something. "I will support whatever you do, Grace, but you have to do something."

It all seemed so far away, yet here they were at the Academy. In a couple years they'd all be Rangers, even Jacob who hadn't known about any of this a few months ago. That made her really realize that she probably just wasn't cut out for it. Or maybe she was being lazy, like her older brother always said. Either way, she knew now that her childhood wouldn't last forever.

Spooky thought.

She didn't have to do something with magic, did she? The thing she liked doing the most in her spare time was draw, but could she do that for the rest of her life? She liked curling up in a nook next to a window and drawing what she saw outside, or sketching Blake or Camilla's faces. That wasn't a job, though. She didn't sit down at an easel or drafting table and work at it.

She was sad about having her allowance chopped, but it wasn't like there was anywhere to spend money right now. Couldn't go shopping locked in Tisdale. Couldn't even get packages delivered to the Academy. Maybe she could get her father to raise it after the term was done. But that would mean getting good grades. Ughhhhh...

"Gracie!" Camilla called from behind her.

Grace whirled around.

Camilla came right up to Grace and threw her arms around her and squeezed her tight in a big hug. Grace's face was buried in the taller girl's shoulder. She drank in Camilla's scent—God she always smelled so good even though they rotated the same scents.

Camilla pulled away, tearing the thoughts out of Grace as if she were ripping cords out of the back of a TV.

"Are you alright?" Camilla asked. The concern in her eyes was clear as day: she was worried Grace was sad because she'd lost.

Grace smiled. "I'm fine."

Camilla searched her face.

"I'm actually a little relieved," Grace managed, looking down at the ground as she did. "It's over."

"Grace! Don't say that!" Camilla gasped.

Grace shook her head, hair falling in front of her face, thankfully obscuring Camilla from her vision. "I'm not a good fighter like you. I'm not strong like you," she said.

"Oh, Gracie..." Camilla said. "Do you really feel that way?"

What way? What way! Grace managed to nod, hoping her blush wasn't too obvious.

"Well, then it's good that it's over, isn't it?"

"Yeah."

"Where were you going to go?"

"Cafeteria," Grace shrugged. "Get some food."

"Why don't you come watch Jacob's match?" Camilla said.

"Okay," Grace obeyed.

She followed Camilla back up to the seating, watching her from behind. Oh, everything was so complicated.