Rise of the Gryphon (Belador #4)(66)

Her fingertips showed again.

She shoved them in the pockets of her jeans. Stay calm. Getting upset would disturb her focus, and cloaking would fail for sure.

Evalle and Storm paused up ahead, observing something Lanna couldn’t see.

She looked everywhere for a place to hide. Not an easy trick, since this place was like an outdoor tournament. She smelled food vendors, then took another look at the stair-step seating. Could there be space beneath the tall seats?

Maybe. She had to get through the crowd without drawing attention.

Bumping the legs of humans startled them.

Bumping the legs of someone with power was much more dangerous.

Women wore fancy clothes, like those at Cousin Quinn’s hotel. Fighters had studded chokers, belts and leg restraints that all smelled of majik.

Much money passed hands at this event.

Something else dawned on her. She had seen no one her age. Pulling her hand out to check for cloaking, she moaned at the pink flesh coming into view.

The crowd parted in front of her, finally offering a fast path.

She looked up as a man ahead of her stopped and slowly turned, his face intent as though searching for someone. He was tall, several inches over six feet, and he had short, thick hair the color of a ripe lemon. The long black robe only made his skin look more sickly, but that wizard was not ill.

Evil had turned Grendal’s skin that color.

Lanna froze. Her mind screamed at her to run, but her knees became jelly as her cloaking gave way.





TWENTY-THREE





How much power does it take to hide this much area at one time?” Evalle muttered. “I thought Sen was the only one capable of this much, but I have a new appreciation for centaurs.”

Storm strolled casually alongside Evalle, but his gaze moved constantly, taking in everything. “This isn’t just a shield warding. One way in and one way out. This D’Alimonte has some help, maybe multiple wizards or mages, keeping the entire area secure, even against teleporting in or out without permission.”

Which meant Tristan wouldn’t be able to teleport out. She couldn’t decide if that was a plus or not. “This looks like an inflated tent, if tents came with hundred-foot ceilings. Has to be that high up there. I see two fighting arenas . . . theaters,” she corrected herself, calculating the stadium seating around the two battle areas to accommodate an easy thousand. “And that wide building connecting the theaters must be what? Locker rooms?”

“Individual waiting areas to keep the fighters separated and allow them a place to be healed out of view.”

Nothing had happened the way she’d intended, starting with Storm showing up. At least he wouldn’t be fighting, but how could she battle an Alterant if she didn’t shift into beast form?

Macha had allowed Evalle to make her own decisions, free of repercussion, as long as Evalle didn’t put Macha’s pantheon in conflict with VIPER and acted in the best interest of the Beladors.

Entering the ABC put Evalle clearly in conflict with VIPER, based on what Sen had said. But if Evalle was successful in preventing Alterants from signing on with the Medb and handed VIPER evidence of Noirre majik being traded, she had bargaining power with the Tribunal.

If Macha backed Evalle at that point. Big if.

Changing into her beast form would screw all that, since VIPER rules forbade Evalle’s changing into anything more than the Belador battle form. That amount of change strengthened a Belador’s body and amped up power, but nothing like the strength of her beast form. But it also took a toll on her energy, so she’d have to absolutely need it to use it. She might get away with fighting if she could win without shifting and walk out of here with Alterants who would testify that Noirre majik was traded, which she knew had to happen tonight.

But if she put Macha’s pantheon in conflict with VIPER, then Evalle couldn’t claim working in the Beladors’ best interest, now, could she?

Thanks for nothing, Macha.

“What’s wrong?” Storm asked, his gaze taking in everyone and everything, right down to the sunken level of the battle theater they passed. His mood hadn’t improved a bit since he’d shown up in the helicopter.

“Just thinking through my options.” She’d thought he’d settled down after kissing her, but that had been only a momentary break from the anger surging off of him.

Storm walked along, then made a sound of utter frustration. “That’s not a straight answer. Just like the text messages you sent me, stepping around the truth is lying, Evalle. What’s bothering you?”

She could cut through stone with the edge in his voice. “You.” When someone jostled her in passing, Storm’s glare slid from her to the clueless woman digging through her oversize purse.

Storm tilted his head to indicate they should move out of the flow of traffic circling the battle rings. Once they were far enough off to the side to provide some privacy, he resumed his cool reserve, crossing his arms as if his glare had failed to communicate his aggravation with her.

Her jaw muscles locked and unlocked. “Would you just get over that I left Atlanta without you? I couldn’t face putting you at this kind of risk again.”

“I’m not the one at risk. You are.”

“Comes with the territory of the job I do.”

His mouth tightened and his eyes turned almost black. “Not this. You’ll have to fight some unknown creatures, and if you win those matches, you still have to face another Alterant who will shift into beast form when you won’t. And if that isn’t enough . . .” He rubbed the back of his neck, all of a sudden looking . . . guilty?