Dark Heart of Magic (Black Blade #2)(27)

A hush fell over the crowd, and shouts rose up as the medical staff raced over to the bottom of the ladder. Angelo was with them. He took one look at Henry’s wound, then gestured for a stretcher. A few seconds later, Henry was being rolled away toward the white medical tent. The crowd got to its feet, clapping, but the polite noise didn’t come close to drowning out Henry’s screams.

I looked down again. Henry had hit the ground so hard that his body had made an outline in the grass, like a drawing of a murder victim on a crime show. I shivered. That could have been me down there with a busted leg.

Or worse—dead.

Everyone on the top of the platform was yelling, pointing, and running back and forth, including Deah and Blake, who had their heads together, whispering to each other. Poppy was gesturing with her hands and talking to Devon, but I wasn’t paying attention to her sharp, worried words.

Instead, I kept thinking about the ropes and how they had snapped away from the platform. I’d climbed up my fair share of ropes, and they didn’t just unravel like that, especially not these thick, heavy ones. Even someone with a strength Talent would have had a hard time tearing through them. But the ropes had fallen away from the platform as easily as I could swipe my hand through a spider’s web.

So what had really happened to them?



The officials stopped the tournament, and we all climbed down the ladders attached to the side of the platform. The other competitors who hadn’t been on the course came over, along with the higher-ups in the Families, and everyone checked on their friends. Claudia, Reginald, Mo, and Felix hurried over to Devon and me, with Oscar zipping along behind them.

“You okay, kid?” Mo asked, his eyes dark with concern.

“Yeah, I’m fine, thanks to Devon.”

I looked over, but Devon was reassuring his mom, Reginald, Felix, and Oscar that he was okay.

Mo took off his white hat and started whipping it back and forth in front of his face to create a breeze. He stared up at the ladder. “Scariest thing I’ve ever seen, the way the rope just fell like that. What happened up there?”

“I have no idea, but I’m going to find out. Give me your phone, and cover me.”

I jerked my head at the ladder. Mo handed over his phone, slapped his hat back on his head, and followed me.

Several officials were already gathered around the ladder, talking, taking photos, and more. The ropes lay where they had fallen—the long, thick brown strands looking like copper crushers lazily sunning themselves in the grass.

“How do you want to play this?” Mo asked.

I grinned. “Just be your usual loud, charming, demanding self.”

He grinned back, then barreled over to the officials. “What is the meaning of this? Did you guys not check the ladder before you let everyone start climbing it?”

One of the officials stepped forward and held his hands out, trying to placate Mo. “Mr. Kaminsky, I assure you that we are looking into the situation—”

Mo poked his finger into the guy’s chest. “Looking into the situation? Looking into the situation? I’d say that we’ve all looked into the situation since everyone saw the ladder fall like it was made out of cotton candy. What I want to know is what you’re going to do about the fact that my guy has a broken leg and there’s a Draconi guard with a busted arm. . . .”

And Mo was off, bellowing at the officials. People stared at him, and I used the distraction to sidle forward, moving closer to the ladder. Everyone was clustered at the base where the majority of the ropes had landed, but one strand had curled around the side of the platform. I bent down, as though I was tying my sneaker, and stared at the rope.

The end was frayed, as though the rope was worn and weak and the weight of the competitors hanging on to it had just been too much. That was exactly what I would expect, given how it had snapped away from the top of the platform. So I looked at it—really looked at it—using my sight magic to pull the rope into supersharp detail.

The rope was frayed—but it had also been cut.

A small, clean slice went about halfway through the strand, one that I wouldn’t have even noticed if I hadn’t been looking for it with my magic. Cut away half the rope, and the weight of the competitors would have been too much for it. It was no wonder that the other half of the rope had unraveled as quickly as it had.

No way that slice was any sort of normal wear and tear. That was the kind of mark that couldn’t have been made by anything other than a knife. I thought of that flash of silver I’d seen when I’d peered up the ladder, trying to catch up to Vance.

Someone had deliberately cut the rope.

I was sure of it. And I was willing to bet that the other strands had similar slices.

But who had cut the ropes? And why?

I thought back, trying to remember who had been where and when, but the course had been a mad scramble from start to finish, and the ladder had been no different. It would have been easy for someone to pause at the top before they pulled themselves onto the platform, pretend they were winded, pull a knife from their shorts pocket, and slice through some of the ropes, especially if they had a speed Talent to help them pull it off.

This was supposed to be a friendly competition. Did someone really want to win so badly that they would try to take out other people? In the very first event on the very first day? Henry and the Draconi guard could have easily broken their necks. They were lucky they hadn’t been killed. I’d always known that the competition between the Families was cutthroat, but this was something else.