Limp hair was a serious crime. Oh, and also the ramming part.
"My apologies." Willoughby’s gaze was anguished. "Are you hurt?"
"I'm pissed.” I gritted my teeth, as I was forced to watch Lysander score at the other end of the pitch, pursed by Sleipnir.
2 — 1 appeared in the sky.
"The next point is mine." My eyes became flinty.
"I’d be sincerely disappointed otherwise." Willoughby wheeled away towards Lysander.
I knew that I loved more than simply the elf's pretty hair.
My guts churned, and my chest tightened. If the Princes won the next point, then they'd won the entire tournament.
No way would I allow it to happen.
I might only be a freak of a broken incubi but I was also a Rebel. And my friends and lovers in this academy had shown me that meant something.
I studied the sky and then across the wood, lake, and the castle.
Nothing.
I tapped the rhythm of my own heartbeat on Rayn's hide.
Nothing.
Magenta met my gaze, offering me a reassuring smile.
Nothing.
In a burst of light, the phoenix resurrected itself in the middle of the pitch, directly between the Princes and me.
"Hunt the phoenix!" I howled.
Rayn dived for the phoenix like he was part of the storm. At the same time, Lysander flew towards it with deadly intent. I'd have admired his talent and how regal he looked if he hadn't just tried to unseat me with dirty tactics. Now, I was imagining him over Willoughby's lap for a non-fun spanking (and that was fantasy role-play Number 17 in my role play list).
I swallowed: this was going to be close.
Too close.
With a whoosh of wings, Lysander and I arrived at the Phoenix together.
I clenched my jaw.
Come on, fae, let’s play the phoenix version of Chicken...and you should never play that with an incubus because they never blink first...
Lysander's eyes widened, but he hunkered even lower over his dragon and didn't pull back.
How badly did he desire to win?
Rayn didn't even waver. Behind me, Magenta hollered, before Sleipnir squealed in warning.
I. Would. Not. Blink.
"I breathe for you, Fox," I murmured.
Lysander yelled in frustration, pulling back at the last minute.
Was it too late?
Lysander rose above my head. The beat of his dragon's wings blasted across my face. I paled, glancing down to check that I hadn't embarrassed myself.
Wow, that'd been close. But look, my slinky self had won over the warrior.
I grinned, as Rayn blew on the phoenix in triumph, guiding it into the goal with a smug nonchalance, before blasting it to ash in a victory celebration.
Willoughby shot me a soft smile, before schooling his face back to blankness.
Magenta wheeled around me on Sleipnir. "In the name of Hecate, what courage! Do you know how much I admire you?"
I blushed. No one had ever admired me for courage before. They'd admired my arse or my dick but that wasn't the same (remarkable thought).
This time when the score lit up the sky, I pinked with pride:
2 — 2
Everything rested on the final point. I wiped the snow out of my eyes, before smoothing my hair back because good grooming in the face of pressure was winning.
It was why the English had triumphed at Agincourt. Probably.
All of a sudden, the Princes' dragons turned to look at Rayn, and he nodded like he was giving them a signal. Hold on, it was exactly like that.
The dragons jerked out of the Princes’ control, diving towards the ground.
I gasped.
I didn't want to win by squishing the elf and fae who...were mine as much as the Immortals were...or Nile. Okay, I was claiming them and adding them to my list of Snuggle Options. No squishing my snuggle partners. That had to be an unwritten rule.
The dragons dived close enough to land in front of the platform, before they bucked. The Princes were hurled off their backs and onto their arses. I winced on their behalf. It had to smart their pride as much as their cute behinds.
Magenta coiled out her black mists, seeping her magic across the grounds. Her power was awe-inspiring. Her eyes glittered ice-cold, as she whipped up the snowstorm.
The phoenix blazed to life like a flare above the Dead Wood.
Magenta lifted herself up and waved at the phoenix. "Shall we?"
I grinned. "It's everything I desire."
Sleipnir and Rayne swooped through the magic infused grounds, trailing their own magic like ribbons as they crossed each other. It was stunning. I shook, never taking my gaze from the phoenix. Rayn blasted out a golden flame, and the phoenix screeched, flapping towards the castle. Us Immortals followed it like a victory lap, as the Princes watched from the ground.
Magenta and I exchanged a glance, before Sleipnir and Rayn snorted fire at the same time, scorching the phoenix to ash...and through the goal.
We'd won the tournament together. Whatever happened after this, we'd always have this moment.
Pink fireworks blasted into the sky, lighting it up with the score and announcing:
3 — 2 IMMORTALS WIN!
The silence from the audience below was deafening. Just ask me how much my sexy self didn't care that the result didn't amuse the bad bastards. Crushing relief made me collapse forward, and a sob caught in my throat.
My lovers were safe.
Yet a prickling fear coursed through me. The hairs on my nape rose. Someone was studying me. When I glanced down, I met the Duchess' assessing gaze.
I shuddered. What did she see when she looked at me? Was she furious that I hadn't been reformed or excited about her new plans to break me all over again? She'd told me that she could never love me or even care for me like she did her favorites in the harem. I knew that these could be my last moments of freedom.
Yet Fox would survive, and Magenta would remain free. Although it was my greatest wish to stay with them and witness their true freedom when they broke the curse, I loved them enough to let go. When I landed, I'd no longer belong to them or be a Rebel.
At least, that was what the Duchess thought. In my heart, I'd always be theirs, and she'd never be able to beat the Rebel out of me.
Just let me have this last moment of victory and freedom, before I lost myself forever.
Chapter Twelve
MAGENTA
A long time ago, Robin and I had promised to love each other always. Now that us Immortals had won the Dragon Polo Tournament, I could honor that love by saving my second shimage lover from the same death in the walls of the castle.
Sweet Hecate, let Fox still be breathing…allow the spell to release him…believe that he wasn’t an enemy to me or any witch, simply because he was a mage…
Were any of us Immortals and Princes rivals anymore?
I landed Sleipnir in front of the castle gates. His fur beneath me was hot, warming me against the freezing night, and I wound my fingers through his mane that’d shimmered to aquamarine. His feathered wings beat fiercely.
He was a beauty and a marvel.
My monster.
Sleipnir thrummed with the same joy that vibrated through me.