Chapter 1Volatis the Damned!

Arisa tried to stand when she saw me. The boy holding her shoulder pushed her back into her seat.

Even from the arena floor, I could see her trying not to cry.

“Win, and you can take her wherever you want.” That was the bargain. Refuse to enter, try to leave, and they would take it out on her. I had seen the marks around her wrists. The official I asked for help had waved me away without getting up.

So here I was.

If I got her out, we were leaving this town. We could find work somewhere nobody knew us. For once, I wanted to reach a counter before my reputation did.

I used to imagine winning this tournament. They held it twice a year, and every time I pictured myself on the platform while people cheered my name. No laughter. No “no-mage” tacked onto the end.

I had never pictured Arisa in the reserved seats with a hand clamped around her shoulder. Or myself entering before I was old enough.

You had to be twenty-one—a legal adult—to enter. I was seventeen. In four days I would be eighteen, provided I made it through today. The registration clerk had started to object, looked again at my papers, and handed me a number.

Apparently the age limit was one of the cheaper rules to break.

“Ladies and gents!”

The announcer swept overhead, his bright jacket flapping around the little microphone clipped to its lapel. He spread his arms, and the crowd answered with a roar that I felt through my shoes.

“Let the tournament commence!”

Dark camera lenses turned above the arena walls. I looked past them for a way out.

The fighting platform was square, raised above a strip of bare ground. Steps at the near corner led down to the competitors’ passage. Beyond the ground stood the spectator wall, too high to climb before someone stopped me. The public exits were higher still, scattered among the packed stands.

One of Arisa’s captors caught me looking. He grinned and tightened his grip.

I turned back to the platform.

“You choose in the order of your draw,” the announcer called. “Any undefeated entrant is yours to challenge. Lose once, and you’re out!”

Twenty-four. I rubbed my thumb across the number in my hand. Last pick. If nothing else, I should have time to watch the others fight.

“Winners stay on the platform until a challenger chooses someone else. Then you may return to the waiting room for treatment. Once everyone’s chosen, the remaining fighters draw again. We keep going until one of you takes the purse!”

An attendant shoved two sheathed daggers at me.

“Loan weapons. Bring them back whenever you come off.”

I fastened them at my waist and tested the grips. Above me, Arisa was still watching. I gave her a small nod. I had no idea whether she could see it.

“First contestant! Choose your opponent!”

The man who climbed onto the platform barely glanced at the other fighters.

“Volatis.” He pointed at me. “Come on. Show us what a no-mage’s good for.”

So much for waiting.

Last pick only helped if the twenty-three people before me didn’t all want the same easy win.

The booing followed me up the steps. I could hear individual voices now, men calling odds and someone laughing so hard he could barely get the insult out. My heart beat faster with every step. I concentrated on reaching the next one without looking down.

My opponent stood in the center, nearly seven feet tall, with arms that made mine look thin. He rolled his shoulders as I approached. Magic would have been enough of a problem. If he knew how to use that body too, this was going to hurt.

I stopped within striking distance.

He smiled.

That was his mistake. All those years of training had to be worth something, and I wasn't going to give him time to find out what.

The bronze bell rang.

I drove forward before his hands reached his chest. The heel of my palm caught him under the chin, lifting his head with a hard crack. His feet left the stone. He landed on his back and slid.

I drew my arm in, ready for him to get up.

He didn’t.

For a moment I could hear the bell still humming. The jeering had stopped.

The announcer landed beside the man and bent to inspect him. I looked up at the reserved seats. Arisa’s captors weren't smiling anymore. One of them tore a betting slip in half.

Good. I hoped it had cost him plenty.

An attendant waved the medical staff forward. As they carried the man away, a few people began cheering. Others shouted about their money. I stayed in the center of the platform and tried to slow my breathing.

One down. He hadn’t even touched me.

The next number was called.

“Volatis!”

This one flew out of the waiting line and landed lightly across from me.

Of course he did.

I drew both daggers. If he stayed in the air, my fists weren’t going to be much use.

The bell sounded, and he was already rising. Ice gathered around his hands. I stepped aside as the first shard struck where my foot had been, driving its point into the stone.

Another came. Then three together.

I ran.

He circled above me, keeping well beyond throwing range. Shards broke against the platform or stuck upright like crooked teeth. Every route I took narrowed behind me. When I tried to cut back across the center, a fresh spray drove me toward the corner.

I wanted to throw a dagger just to make him stop smiling. At that height, all I would do was give him one less thing to worry about.

So I kept them and watched his hands.

The next spray took longer to form. Then longer again. He dropped a little between casts and jerked himself back up.

There. Flying and covering the whole platform in ice was costing him.

I ducked another shard and kept moving. Sooner or later, he would have to come down.