Chapter 17

On Sunday, the sky was still damp and draped in clouds.

I took my pill. I hauled the dead crab—which our house cook had let me keep in the kitchen ice box overnight—to the crocodile swamps and threw it in. I snuck Willa some more cheese and asked her if she knew anything about Jagaros being king, to which she merely squeaked and scurried away.

I shrugged. It was hard to care, with Quinn's words hanging so heavily over my shoulders. I hadn't slept with those words scooping out my insides all night.

A Mind Manipulator abused your best friend for years, but you're choosing to fraternize with them now.

You have always been content to stay small.

You. Hurt. Them.

"Rayna?"

It was Emelle, followed by Lander. I turned from where I'd been leaning against our bunkroom's balcony railing, watching the lazy Sunday afternoon strolls of people down below, to force a smile at them.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

I almost said yes. Almost said I was fine. Then a stray tear skidded down my cheek, and I said, "I don't know. I…" I hesitated, feeling the weight of Lander's eyes. I didn't want to dig deeper into his wounds by telling him what Quinn had said about us, but I also… needed to know if she was right about all the other things.

Emelle leaned against the balcony beside me, and Lander drifted to my other side.

"Tell us," she said softly. "You've been off all weekend. Did something happen with…?"

She widened her eyes a bit, and I realized she meant Coen. That was the last time she'd seen me acting normally before my conversation with Quinn, after all—at the party, talking to Coen. The few minutes I'd spent hunting her down and taking her to bed didn't count, since she'd been too drunk to walk straight.

"No, Coen's fine. It's just… was I out of line, with Jenia and the others? Was I… evil for turning the ants on them and hurting them like that?"

Emelle passed a worried glance to Lander over my head.

"As kindly as possible, Rayna, what the hell are you talking about? Of course you weren't out of line! They had us pinned to the ground. You saved us."

"They didn't all have us pinned to the ground," I countered. "That Object Summoner did. Maybe I should have told the ants to bite only him until he let us go."

"Out with it, Rayna," Lander said, a hint of exasperation breaking through his gentle demeanor. "What's got you troubled about this?" He'd heard, of course, what had happened with the ants. Everyone on campus had heard, though I was sure the story had inflated with exaggeration the more it was passed from ear to ear.

Something broke free in my chest when he placed a steady hand on my upper back. Emelle, too, grabbed my arm, and I just… let it out. Every detail and word of what had happened on that rocky shore.

When I was done, Emelle was visibly cringing, and the blood had drained from Lander's face.

"She really said you and I were holding her back?" he asked.

"Not exactly. She just said that people should be discarded if they hold you back. And she's sort of discarded us, so I just assumed… have we been holding her back, Lander?" I pressed a desperate stare onto him. "Can you think of a time back in Alderwick where she—I don't know—said she wanted to go do something and we told her no, or wouldn't do it with her, or made her feel unimportant?"

"No…" Lander said slowly. "She always told me she wanted to relocate to Belliview after our Final Test if the Good Council would allow it, take some painting classes from the city's finest artists, and I said… I said I'd go with her."

When shadows seemed to claw at his eyes, I knew what a sacrifice that had been for him, to tell Quinn that, especially since everyone expected him to take over as mayor one day. And like me, he wasn't good with change.

"I think," Emelle spoke up, "that you both deserve better anyway."

She didn't balk or flinch when Lander and I jerked our heads her way. In fact, she raised her chin and… was that a clenched jaw? Tightening Emelle's face?

"You two are the kindest, most thoughtful people I've met in a long time," Emelle plunged on, "and if she doesn't think you're worth your weight in gold, then you both deserve someone who does. I agree with you, Rayna, that people shouldn't just be abandoned on a whim… but they should be let go if they're choosing to fill your soul with poison."

That hardened face, I knew suddenly, came from her experience with her ex-boyfriend. The way he'd treated her—it would have fossilized something crucially soft in her, if she hadn't got away.

And perhaps that was what Quinn's words would do to me, if I kept trying to get her back. If I kept ruminating on what I'd done wrong and what I could have changed in the past and how we'd gotten to this rotting, wretched point.

It was Lander who said, "Thank you, Emelle." I opened my mouth to say it, too, when Coen's voice brushed against the inside of my mind.

What's wrong?

Nothing's wrong, I managed to think through my surprise. And I was feeling the tiniest shade better.

You feel sad. Or relieved? I can't tell.

Are you always perusing people's minds to spy on their feelings?

No, he chuckled. But your mind happens to be unnaturally interesting.

I didn't know what to say to that as warmth coiled around my body. Thankfully, Coen continued without waiting for a response.

And I was going to invite you to play pentaball against some friends of mine and me, but if you're going to take that tone…

Pentaball sounds great, I thought immediately. A distraction—that's what I needed right now. Against you, though? Not with you?

Nah, I think I'll enjoy making you flush with some nice, cathartic anger when I beat you. Besides, he added, I have my team already. You get yours and meet me on the field in five minutes.

And just like that, his smug presence left my head. Oh, how I'd love to wipe away that smile that was surely crooking his mouth right now.

I turned to Emelle and Lander.

"Feel up for a little game?"

After we'd rounded up Rodhi, Wren, and Gileon, the six of us made it to the field arena just as Coen showed up with four others.

"We're playing against them?" one of his teammates said incredulously, examining all of us from head to toe and stroking his mustache. He had a narrow face, and his hair was tied back in a ponytail.

Wren scoffed at the assessment and marched over to the nearest section of the stadium, where she said she'd be content watching us mutilate each other. Each team technically only needed five players anyway; members beyond the basic five were considered backups.

Because pentaball, even without magic, got ugly. Quinn, Lander, and I had gotten our fair share of scratches and bruises playing in the streets back at home. I shuddered to think what the game would be like now with all our powers.

I didn't shudder, however, at the idea of what Quinn might think if she saw me playing it with Coen and the others. Surely, she had to know that not all Mind Manipulators used their powers like her mother had.

Still, I felt a tremor of guilt at the thought that I hadn't helped her more. Hadn't told Fabian and Don more about her troubles at home. Maybe something could have been done. Maybe Quinn's mother would have stopped.

Coen's voice grazed my mind.

Come back to me, little hurricane.

Quit eavesdropping on my internal dialogues.

There you are. I could have sworn his voice was smiling.I almost smiled back, when I remembered—

Did you know the Good Council has been spying on you?I made a mouse friend who said she killed some spiders in your room. Apparently, they were going to report back to Dyonisia Reeve about our entire conversation.

I felt Coen's shock flit across my mind, but it was gone in another instant.

I'm not surprised. My breakup with Kimber last dry season got pretty ugly and sort of… put us both on their radar. It probably has nothing to do with the pills and everything to do with the fact that Dyonisia Reeve likes to spy on anyone who demonstrates a tad too much power—even lawful power.

What… I tried not to let my own shock ripple through my mind. What was so ugly about your breakup that it caught the entire Good Council's attention?

Another time, maybe. I don't want to think about it right now.

As if we hadn't just had a private conversation, Coen flicked a thumb at his narrow-faced friend. "This is Garvis, a Mind Manipulator like me."

Okay, then. Another time was fine by me, and it was really none of my business anyway. Still, though, I felt a little queasy at the thought that social drama could trigger Dyonisia's attention.

Coen nodded at the two identical women behind him, who had high-angled cheekbones and skin darker than Lander's. "These are Sasha and Sylvie, both Object Summoners. Twins, of course. And this is Terrin, my favorite Element Wielding maniac." He gestured at a man with a ruddy beard, grizzled hair past his shoulders, and an overall unkempt look, who grinned at us and rubbed his hands together.

I couldn't help but raise an eyebrow, surprised that they weren't all in the same sector. Were these the other nameless pirate children who'd grown up with him?

You're a little too astute for your own good, Coen scolded me in my head.

Ignoring that, I pointed at each of my own friends.

"This is Melle, Lander, Gileon, and… Rodhi?" I turned. Rodhi had taken a few steps toward the twins and was now… circling them.

"Which one of you did I make out with under the stadiums that first night? I didn't know there were two of you!"

Sylvie—no, Coen had said that one was Sasha—raised a finger. "That was me."

Rodhi's face slackened with incredulousness.

"But you told me you were a third-year Mind Manipulator! I thought that's the only reason our sector was invited to all the Mind Manipulator parties, because you're part of the house!"

Sasha shrugged. "I lied."

Coen cut off Rodhi's next inhale, rushing through his next words. "Everyone knows how to play pentaball, I'm assuming?" He nodded at Terrin, who unslung a mesh bag from his shoulder and dumped twelve items on the grass: ten balls—each ranging from smooth-surfaced and pale yellow to bumpy and bright turquoise—and two half-moon discs on metal plates.

Emelle had told me back at the house that she'd never played before, but it was Gileon who said, in his slow, low-pitched voice, "Four balls for each team, right?"

"Five," Coen corrected without blinking, although Garvis furrowed his brows at the obvious misstep in simple addition. "Each team gets one disc and five balls. Every ball has to make it through the disc on your opponents' side of the field."

"Whichever team gets all five balls in their opponents' disc first," Terrin said with a savage grin, "wins."

Emelle scratched at her arm nervously. "Does it matter how we get it in? Kicking or throwing?"

Lander spoke up before the others could, turning toward her. "There are no rules in that regard, but…" He angled closer to her, lowering his voice, "most people choose to fling it in underhand. More accuracy that way."

She nodded, just as Coen said, "The only true rule is you can't use magic on the ball. It has to go through the disc by means of your actual hand or foot… or whatever body part you want to use." At this, Coen's smirk actually seemed to brush up and down my body, as if reminding me of the various body parts I could use in other ways. I stuck out my tongue, and he continued with a smile nipping at his mouth, "So Sasha and Sylvie can't guide a ball through with their invisible Summoning hands, and Terrin can't send it in on a gust of wind."

Rodhi finally tugged his awe-struck gaze from the twins.

"I think we should add a new rule just for this particular match." He leveled a stare at Coen—a significant feat considering that Coen was two heads taller and packed with three times more muscle. "Everyone is only allowed to use first-year magic."

"Deal," Coen said immediately, to my surprise.

And to the others' surprise as well, apparently, because Terrin cursed as he stomped off to go set up the discs, the twins traded grimaces, and Garvis stopped stroking his mustache.

Rodhi, Lander, and Emelle, however, looked significantly more cheered as they each picked up a ball. I grabbed an orange, dully spiked one and handed the last one—warty and toad green—to Gileon, who was scratching at a spot on his head as if still dissecting the rules.

Coen's team grabbed their own balls and lined up to face us.

I glanced to the sidelines, where Wren gave us all a mocking thumbs-up. I could tell from her twisted expression that she thought us all the vilest of creatures for wanting to play with balls in a muddy field.

Perhaps we were.

"Ready?" Coen said, shifting himself into a predatory stance.

I can't wait to see what kind of magic baby Coen could do once upon a time, I crooned, knowing he was in my head and wanting to catch him off guard.

He didn't even blink. I can't wait to show you.

"Set," he said aloud, and everyone crouched, poised. "Go!"

I lunged into my first running step.

Coen didn't target me first, but went straight for Emelle, who hadn't yet moved. I flew past him, pounding the grass with a lengthening stride, eyes set on the disc at the other end of the field…

The ground bucked beneath my feet.

I pitched forward, falling on my knees.

"Sorry!" came Terrin's gruff, gleeful voice from behind me—which meant he'd decided to steal my ball before making a run for our disc.

Good.

I sent a quick, three-note whistle to the grass before I rolled and scrambled into a run again. Mrs. Wildenberg hadn't yet taught us how to communicate with plants, only what their songs meant, but I had to try, didn't I? And I remembered how she'd said three short whistles in a row encouraged them to grow very quickly.

A curse and a thump behind me, and I knew it had worked. The grass had shot up around Terrin and wrapped around his ankles.

His ball went flying to my left, and after half a second's thought, I veered toward it, scooping it up with my free arm.

Only to feel a tug, like an anchor rooting itself deep into my core. Ten paces away, Sasha flashed me a wicked grin and held out her hands expectantly.

I felt it, then, the pull that neither Fabian nor Don had ever deigned to use on me: Summoning magic wrapping its tendrils around every part of my body and urging me to follow its wafting path, right into Sasha's extended hands.

But just then, Lander barreled past on four furry legs, still clutching his ball with an unchanged human hand—to abide by the rules, I was willing to bet, so that he could roll his ball into the disc with a non-magically altered body part.

"Lander!" I chucked one of my balls at him, unable to resist Sasha's pull.

Lander caught it with his free hand mid-leap, made it to the enemy disc, and flung both his and mine through.

By the time I stumbled to Sasha against my will, she only had one ball to steal.

And so the dance continued.

Rodhi was circling Sylvie. Gileon, still hugging his original toad green ball to his chest, was swinging his heavy arms at Garvis, who frowned at him as he tried to snatch the ball away. Emelle was circling the middle of the field, unsure of where to go, and Coen… Coen was at our disc, flinging his third ball through.

"SHIT ALL OVER THEM!" came Rodhi's sudden roar.

The kingfishers twirling over the match obliged with laughs that sounded a lot like tee, hee, hee!

Fat white clumps rained down, hitting each of our opponents on the top of their heads.

I took my chance. Catching up to Sasha, I reclaimed my ball while she was busy wiping filth from her eyes, and swiveled around—

To come face to face with Coen, who must have looped around to block me.

"Not so fast." He clicked his tongue, but I couldn't take him seriously with the crown of shit splattered over his head and oozing down his shoulders. I laughed, and he turned toward the nearest twin. "Hey, Sasha, can you transfer all this bird poop onto Rayna's head instead?"

"No!" I cried.

In a flash, Sasha's magic had siphoned all the filth from his hair and body—but mercifully, she'd flung it all to the ground rather than on to me like Coen had asked.

I back-pedaled.

Coen followed casually, a predator hunting prey. There were only two balls left on the field now, my team's right here in my arms and his team's in Sylvie's, so I knew he was playing defense… but right now it was me who felt defensive.

"As you should," he said aloud, all haughtiness and ease from having heard my thoughts. "It's a good thing you have a Shape Shifter on your team, or we would've smoked you within minutes."

"I don't know," I called, still back-pedaling—toward his disc, dammit. I'd need to find a way to get around him. "I thought the birds came in handy."

He was grinning now. "So does the fact that we're all holding back, I'm sure."

I stopped, right before my heels hit his disc.

"You're toying with me."

"Absolutely," he agreed, and… were his hands actually sliding in his pockets right now? As if he hadn't a care in the world and felt so confident he could catch me that he wanted to savor the moment?

Behind him, Sylvie had come sprinting toward us with her ball, but Rodhi chased her right into Gileon's waiting arms, who carefully took the ball and held it out to Lander, who began to leap away with it on shifted hind legs… only to slam into a pillar of solid ice from Terrin.

Coen, meanwhile, wasn't even making a move to steal my ball from me. He simply cocked his head, observing me like you'd look at a menu in a village diner.

"You know, this isn't a good strategy, whatever you're doing," I seethed.

"Isn't it?" He was past a smirk now, his grin widening into full-blown glee. "You seem so disarmed right now that you're not even trying to make a run for it. Which means I've got you trapped here, across the field, which means your team can't win."

Shit. He was right.

But for some reason, my feet didn't want to move when I knew he'd pounce as soon as I so much as twitched.

"How about this, little hurricane?" He leaned toward me, so that I had to crane my neck to look up. "I'll give you a ten second head start. I'm curious to see how fast you can run, anyway."

Dare I call him a bastard? I threw up my best glare. "Fine."

"Run," Coen whispered.