The ringing in Dwayne’s ears, the pain behind his eyes, the weakness of his legs, all agreed: he was alive. His hold on the steel plates had slipped, but only enough for them to end up near, not in, the audience, and, while the explosion had cracked the arena floor and created a massive column of heat and light that had probably been seen all the way from Bradford, if Dwayne was fine, so was everyone else.
Still in her seat, Dean Bruce grinned the grin of a woman who’d seen her own death. If Dwayne hadn’t been Ri, she and the examiners and everyone else in the first four rows would have been dead. Only one person wasn’t shocked to be alive: Vice-Consul Eminike. That was going to be a problem, but he’d deal with that later. Now, he should-
“Treason!”
Dwayne blinked, his attention returning to Dean Bruce.
“Treason!” she shouted again. “He was trying to kill us all!”
The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
“What? No, I just-”
Arms slammed Dwayne to the ground, a chunk of smoked sunset was pressed to his throat, and dark ripples filled his vision. He tried to cast, failed.
Behind him, Lady Pol asked, “What are you doing? Release him!”
“Lady Pol, calm yourself,” said Dean Bruce. “I know you’re upset at being tricked-”
“You release him this ins-”
“At being tricked,” shouted Dean Bruce over her, “but it’s safe now. Sen Jerome will safeguard the traitor and get to the bottom of his heinous plot. I will follow to aid them.”
Her face appeared in Dwayne’s troubled vision. “That was quite the display, boy,” she muttered, “but this farce ends now.”
“Should we-”
“No,” said Dean Bruce. “Seda-”
The ground shook beneath them.
“Cueller’s Blessing, what was that?”
Mei. It had to be.
Dean Bruce scowled. “Those fools. Sedate him.”
“Understood.”
A sleeping potion soaked rag was crammed into Dwayne’s face, but before he faded away, he heard Dean Bruce say, “This way we’ll get some use out of him before the Day of Cleansing.”
