Once again, Malik told the truth. “I used magic to summon it from thin air.”

And once again, the truth was met with laughter. When it calmed down, Mwale Omar launched into an intense theory involving smoke and mirrors and pulleys, and Malik was grateful the attention was off him for a moment. People tended to believe what they wanted to believe, and no rational person would ever be caught believing in magic.

Yet just thinking about the scale of the illusion he’d cast sent a rush of energy through Malik’s veins, and he ached for one more chance to hold it in his grasp. If only the rest of his family had been there to see it. Mama would have been so proud, and Papa . . . well, nothing Malik did had ever made his father happy, but it would have been nice to prove that he could do something right. And Nadia would—

Nadia would—

Bile shot up in Malik’s throat. Somewhere among the chaos of the Midway and being fawned over by the court, he had forgotten about saving Nadia.

“Excuse me.” Malik finally pulled free of Mwale Omar’s grasp and stumbled to the other end of the Midway. As soon as he had slipped away, he vomited the contents of his stomach into the roots of a tree. Wiping his mouth with the back of his sleeve, Malik groaned.

How could he have forgotten about Nadia for even a second?

“. . . second place to a boy from a family no one’s even heard of!”

“Maybe he’s just good, Mother.”

Malik froze at Driss and Mwani Zohra’s approaching voices. This did not seem like a conversation he was meant to overhear, but there was nowhere else for him to go.

“I don’t care how good he is,” snapped Mwani Zohra. “You should be better.”

“Would it be such a shame if I lost? I’m not even sure I want to—”

The sound of flesh hitting flesh filled the air, and Malik winced, his hands moving to cover his own head.

“Don’t ever say something so selfish ever again.” Mwani Zohra’s voice was low, but the menace behind it was clear. “Go, make yourself useful and find the princess. If the rumors are true that she’s rigged the competition in favor of the Life Champion, then you need to get into her good graces fast. Luckily, the girl isn’t half so clever as her mother, so charming her should be easy.”

One set of footsteps drifted away, and after a pause, the second set approached Malik’s hiding place. He straightened up in time to catch Driss walking by, the latter’s left cheek swollen and red. Genuine pity flooded Malik’s chest, and he wondered how Driss would react if he shared that he understood having a parent who couldn’t be pleased. But before Malik could say anything, Driss sneered.

“The court’s darling can’t even hold his wine. How sad.” Driss brushed past him, banging into Malik’s shoulder with too much force for it to have been an accident. “You might be everyone’s favorite now, but it won’t last. Once they find a shiny new toy, they’ll throw you aside like they did me.”

In Malik’s head, he held his ground and gave a witty comeback that made Driss quake with fear. But in reality, he lowered his gaze until the Sun Champion slipped away. The ill feeling in his stomach worsened. He’d been at the Midway what, one hour? Two? Karina should be here by now. Who did he know who knew her well enough to—

Tunde.

Malik found the Water Champion with a bow and arrow in hand, poised in front of a stall lined with dozens of clay pots.

“Someone’s been enjoying himself tonight,” sang Tunde at Malik’s rumpled appearance. He loosed his arrow, and it shattered one of the pots, revealing a golden egg.

“Good luck! The Great Mother has wonderful things in store for you!” called out the person running the stall, and Malik did a double take—it was Nyeni, dressed down today in a simple servant’s shift. He had no idea what the griot was doing here, but it couldn’t be anything good. She winked at Malik, held a finger to her lips, and then handed Tunde his prize.

“Tunde,” said Malik, intentionally turning his back to her, “have you seen Karina?”

“I didn’t realize the two of you were on a first-name basis,” Tunde replied a little too nonchalantly as he readied another arrow.

“I want to apologize for what happened during the Second Challenge. If you have any advice about talking to her, it’d be a big help.” Tunde didn’t budge. Malik felt bad doing this, but he leaned forward and said, “Me talking to her isn’t a problem, right? I mean, since the two of you aren’t involved anymore—”

“It’s not a problem,” Tunde snapped. He narrowed his eyes and glanced at the remaining pots. “Why don’t we play a game? If you can land a shot on one of those pots, I’ll tell you anything you want to know about the princess. But if you can’t, you’ll tell me how you did your illusion today. The truth this time.”

Archery was another skill Papa had failed to teach Malik, which he clearly demonstrated when his first arrow went several feet wide. Nyeni cackled, and Malik flushed. He nocked another arrow, drew the bowstring back, aimed as best he could . . . and this time hit the dirt in front of his feet.

Tunde began to speak, probably to ask the question Malik could not answer, but then his eyes went wide and he dropped into a low bow.

“It seems Champion Adil cannot shoot as well as he tells a story.”

Malik’s frown deepened. He scrambled for another arrow, unaware that every person in the vicinity was bowing except him.

“I am speaking to you, Adil.”

Wait, that was his name. Mortified, Malik turned to see Princess Karina standing right behind him, unamused. He bowed, nearly hitting Tunde in the head with the bow in his haste.

“M-m-my apologies, Your Highness!”

Karina nodded at Tunde. “Good evening, Champion Adetunde.”

“Good evening, Your Highness. You look as lovely as ever.” Tunde’s voice was even, yet there was an icy tension in the air between him and Karina. The princess’s gown tonight was pure white lace over the shoulders with sleeves reminiscent of butterfly wings that trailed nearly to her knees. Strings of beads and gem filigree were woven through her silver hair, which was tossed effortlessly over one shoulder. Now that he was seeing Karina up close, mistaking her for a servant felt like having mistaken the sun for a candle.

Karina lifted an eyebrow at Malik’s discarded arrows. “Would you like some assistance with that? I am no expert, but I have taken my fair share of archery lessons.”

Keenly aware of the Mark trailing his spine, Malik nodded. Karina wrapped her arms around his, moving them into position.

“Keep your stance even and your bow arm rotated straight.” Heat rushed to Malik’s face as her thumb brushed the inside of his wrist. “Pull the bowstring back to your anchoring point like this.”

She drew his hand back, the tension running from their fingers up through the string. The smell of rain had returned, making Malik dizzy once more in a way that had nothing to do with the wine in his system. He could have the spirit blade out and through her throat before anyone had the chance to stop him. Was it worth it to do just that, even with all these people around?

“Check your aim and”—Karina tilted her head up, her breath warm against the shell of his ear—“you shouldn’t have lied to me.”

A jolt ran through Malik’s body as he let the arrow fly. It crashed into a pot, shattering it into dozens of jagged pieces. In the dead center sat an egg that was rotted black and covered in maggots. Nyeni blew a raspberry.

“Great shot, but bad luck!” the griot said with a cackle.

Malik could feel Karina’s touch lingering against his skin even after she stepped away. “Not bad for a couple of beginners. Now, Champion Adil, would you do me the honor of accompanying me on a walk?”

“I . . .” Now that they both knew who the other was, the easy air that had grown between them during the raid was gone. Karina was as beautiful as the stories said, but so were leopards, and Malik wouldn’t have known what to do if left alone with one of those either.

“Relax, I am no threat to your virtue . . . though I have had you on your knees once already,” said Karina with a smirk. Tunde coughed violently, and the heat rushed to Malik’s face even though he knew she was only referring to when he fixed her dress.

Unable to refuse, Malik took the arm Karina offered him, and they walked toward the lake. The courtiers whispered as they passed, and Tunde stood off to the side, looking everywhere but at them.

Malik glanced at Karina out of the corner of his eye, only to look away when she looked back at him. There were too many witnesses around, too many guards who would attack him for attacking her. But the brightness of the Midway hid hundreds of dark corners, and if he could lure her into one . . .

“Is something the matter?” Karina asked.

Breathe. Stay present. Stay here.

Malik shook his head, wishing he could shake her scent from his nose. “I’m fine.”