Scorio felt her words like a punch to the chest, but still, he forced himself to smile. “Harsh. Coming from the Nightmare Lady.”
She didn’t smile in return.
“Well, at least I got to apologize. Thank you for… everything, I suppose. Take care of yourself, Naomi.”
“You too, Scorio.” She hesitated, as if she wished to say something more, and then shook her head, stepped back into her apartment, and closed the door.
Scorio remained still for a long, long time. Despite his words, he’d believed that she’d have come round to his side once more. That he’d have somehow charmed her, or that she’d have taken pity on him, or that she’d have felt his outrage over what had happened, and that she’d have agreed to help. To train him, or provide him with a solution, offer him, perhaps, her Sapphire vials.
But no.
He stared at the closed door and felt another sliver of hope within his breast die.
Naomi had done far more for him than he could ever have hoped for. She’d trained him, given him the means to advance, stood by his side, even followed him into the Academy.
But she’d help him no more.
Slowly, reluctantly, he tore himself away and descended her steps. Didn’t see the floors as he passed them by, and found himself outside, blinking in the ruddy light of Second Clay.
Without options, without a plan, without hope of progressing.
Scorio inhaled deeply and stared up at the dimming sun-wire and the spirals of mist that were already curling up to encircle it.
“I won’t give up,” he swore to himself. “I won’t.”
Turning, he began the long walk back to the Academy. But despite his vow, his heart felt leaden, his mouth felt full of ashes, and he couldn’t see anything before him but all the doors that had been slammed in his face.
Chapter 55
Before Scorio knew it, the next tournament round was upon their cohort. This time the winner’s bracket was fighting, which meant one thing: he’d finally get to watch Jova Spike in action.
The excitement was palpable as the students funneled their way into the huge basilica. Each of the sixty-four contestants formed their own special nucleus; Scorio studied them as he and his friends made their way to their biers, trying not to frown and quelling the pangs of envy as they went.
“Should be good,” said Leonis, crossing his arms over his broad chest as he stared to where Ravenna Accardi sat cross-legged atop her bier. “Only the very best are left in the bracket now, which means no one-sided fights.”
Lianshi tssked in annoyance. “You mean only the elite as artificially created by the House sponsorship system.”
“Sure,” said Leonis with a one-shouldered shrug. “However you want to phrase it. Though only some thirty-five of those competing have patronage. Means the other half made it this far relatively speaking through talent and grit.”
“It just rankles, is all,” said Lianshi, crossing her arms and leaning back against her own bier to form a mirror image of Leonis. “Who’s to say we’d not have made it if we’d been fed a steady diet of Fat Crickets as well?”
Leonis’s grin failed to touch his eyes. “Who told you to turn down Kraken’s offer? But yeah, that’s part of it. Apparently. It’s not enough to be talented and determined. You need political connections, and know-how to work the system to get ahead.”
“Unless you’re Jova Spike,” said Scorio quietly, searching her out amidst the crowd.
“Unless you’re Jova Spike,” Leonis agreed grudgingly.
“There’s Juniper,” said Lianshi, raising a hand to wave at a beautiful woman who was walking by. The willowy blonde smiled broadly and waved back, then she was past, half-listening to a couple of other students who were chattering around her.
“She competing?” asked Scorio, trying not to stare after her. Juniper’s dark blue eyes had contrasted sharply with her pale hair, and betrayed a steely determination that brutally undercut the genial impression she otherwise made.
“She is.” Lianshi sighed. “She was the fifth to make Emberling. Manifested this strange but awesome power—each time she throws a punch, she leaves a hovering impression of burning light that shines only in her foe’s eyes. After a few punches, her enemies are faced with a blinding wall that moves with Juniper like a shield.”
“Huh,” said Scorio, and a brutal twist of emotion caught his breath: what would his own power be? How well would it even the odds?
“There’s Nuru,” said Leonis, motioning with his chin. Scorio saw a lanky youth with skin the color of night, so dark that it almost had bluish tints. He frowned at nothing as he made his way toward his bier, three friends clearly trying to encourage him as he went.
“Another Emberling?” asked Scorio.
“Protective power,” answered Leonis. “He can tear chunks out of the environment and cause them to circle around him like mobile shields.”
“And if you break them,” continued Lianshi, “they explode with white fire. Which, conveniently enough, Nuru is immune to.”
“I want floating explosive shields,” muttered Leonis.
“Maybe you’ll get better,” said Lianshi with a sympathetic smirk.
“We’ve ten weeks till the Gauntlet run.” Leonis sighed and stared down at the floor. “Whatever I’m going to develop, it better happen fast.”
Scorio hopped up onto his bier and drummed his heels against the side. “Making Emberling won’t be enough. How many of our cohort will have reached it by then?”
Lianshi bit her lower lip in thought, then gave a slight shake of her head. “Impossible to tell. Some forty have reached it already. In ten weeks’ time? Maybe double that number? Maybe a hundred?”
“We need to do better,” said Scorio, his words heavy and quiet. “It won’t be enough to hit the Gauntlet as Emberlings.”
“What, you mean to make Tomb Spark as well?” Leonis raised an eyebrow and then grinned. “I applaud your ambition, friend, but one step at a time.”
Scorio scowled and looked away. Only to see Jova Spike. She moved as if alone, the crowd parting before her without her having to ask or even focus her gaze on those who stood in her way. Even her walk looked more like a prowl, her whole body limber, controlled, powerful. She’d recently reshaved one side of her head down to a dark fuzz, and somehow the long tresses that she combed over to fall past her other shoulder looked impossibly fierce. Especially when combined with her kohl-rimmed eyes and black lipstick. What might have looked laughable on anyone else looked predatory and imposing on her own striking features.
Zala walked by her side, hair falling in slender braids, talking animatedly to her friend and gesturing with her hands. She was short, slender, almost insubstantial, but was rumored to be one of the deadliest fighters in their entire cohort.
It didn’t hurt that she was one of Jova’s roommates, and along with Juniper one of the few Great Souls Jova trained with.
The pair of them were trailed by a column of hangers-on, some of their faces familiar from the morning runs, but both women ignored them all.
Lianshi and Leonis followed the direction of his gaze, and they all watched in silence as Jova strode past them without glancing their way.
“It’s not fair,” said Lianshi once she was past. “To be that talented, stylish, and beautiful?”
“Not to mention she got the king’s share of the Archspire’s power for making it the furthest in the Gauntlet,” said Leonis. “And that she’s somehow remained ahead of the pack despite turning down sponsorship offers from all four Houses.”
“I’ve written about her in my diaries,” said Lianshi. “She’s always been aggressively independent, it seems. It’s just her nature.”
“And prejudiced,” muttered Scorio.