Fatefall - 12

Chapter 12 - Adrian

I think that Zara hated me at first. She thought our cause was worthy and yet hopeless---and when I asked her what she would do instead, her face grew grim and determined. “No one ever said we have to play by the rules.”

Adrian’s head throbbed with pain as he ducked, narrowly avoiding the knife that Poppy threw at his head. He swung at her with his sword, missing by an embarrassingly wide margin. 

“Does the little prince need a break?” Poppy cooed, flashing a smirk as she spun another dagger in her fingers. “You’re making a fool of yourself, Your Highness.”

Adrian gritted his teeth. He made one request of his teammates and Poppy couldn’t be bothered to listen to it. If so much as a single person happened to wander by the doors to the training room while Poppy taunted him, they might overhear his title being tossed around and who knew what would come of that. 

His head gave another pulse of white-hot flames and he held up his hand, signaling a break. “I’m not a fool, I’m injured.” 

“The two aren’t entirely exclusive,” Poppy said, but she dropped her daggers anyway. “But if it pleases the future king, I’ll give you a ten minute break.” Her ragged breathing told him that she needed this pause too and still Adrian said nothing. He’d learned early on that arguing with Poppy got him nowhere. 

Just like he’d learned that Nakoa couldn’t fight to save her life and Sage … the less said about him the better. 

Adrian tossed his sword to the mats on the floor, sinking down against a wall and burying his aching head in his arms. Four days. It had been four whole days since the qualifiers and he still could barely handle being on his feet for an hour. Koda’s little potions had done little for the pain---unless he wanted to use concoction that would leave him drowsy at best and loopy at worst. And the last thing he needed was to get drunk off an elixir and run around town spewing secrets for the whole world to hear. 

Although with the first Trial swiftly approaching, Adrian was beginning to think a rambling idiot would be better than an incapacitated teammate. 

He heard movement beside him and lifted his head warily, only to find Poppy twirling a knife between her fingers. Her hands never seemed to stop moving, and if they didn’t have weapons in them, he noticed that she was always playing with something. 

“Are you feeling any better?” she asked. 

The question caught him off guard. “What do you mean?” He silently cursed himself for even bothering to respond. Why are you even speaking to her? She’s the enemy. 

Poppy gave him a sideways look. “Your head. Believe it or not, I saw your qualifying fight. That, and you have a huge gash on your temple that’s kind of impossible to miss.”

Adrian subconsciously traced a finger over his cut. “Aida said it was healing well.”

Poppy snorted at that. The sound surprised him. Proper ladies didn’t make undistinguished noises like that. Proper ladies didn’t throw knives at his head, either. “I’m surprised that you’ve managed to hide something like that from your father. Did you tell him you fell down the stairs or something?”

He didn’t understand why she was so curious, but the lightness Poppy distilled into conversations always disarmed him. When she acted like this, Adrian almost forgot that she was an assassin. 

“I haven’t talked to my father since before the qualifiers,” Adrian admitted. “He’s been busy organizing the trials, and my mother has been preoccupied with the upcoming ball.” He’d barely even seen Aida, though he made sure to check in with her at least once a day. When one member of your family turned up dead, it didn’t exactly reassure you of your own safety. 

He’d taken most of his meals with his teammates, spending only nights at the castle. In a way, he trusted that his team wouldn’t allow him to die. The Tournament meant too much to them to lose one of their strongest fighters. 

“Well, I hope it feels better soon,” Poppy said. 

Adrian scoffed. “You’re saying that entirely for selfish reasons.”

Poppy shrugged, undeterred. “I never said it wasn’t. You’ve seen our team, Adrian. I’m not delusional.” She blew out a breath, throwing her blade with a lazy indifference. It embedded itself between Sage’s feet, and the boy let out a startled squeak. Adrian bit back a sigh. 

“Jett’s pretty good,” Poppy continued, though her voice was much lower. Adrian followed her gaze to where Jett and Nakoa were sparring---or at least attempting to. 

Even though Nakoa had the reach advantage with a wooden practice spear, Jett had managed to land several hits with his pair of knives. He’d coated each of the blades with paint so Nakoa could see where he hit her without obtaining injuries. 

“He’s okay,” Adrian said. “But what about Nakoa and Sage?”

“Their strengths lie elsewhere,” Poppy said, though she didn’t seem so sure. 

“The Tournament doesn’t care about how well you can worship a Fate or read ancient texts,” said Adrian, trying not to sound snobby. “The Tournament is about Graces and action.”

And Sage doesn’t even have a Grace, Adrian reminded himself. 

“Nakoa and Jett can use their Graces,” Poppy remarked. 

“We showed off our Graces once,” Adrian shot back. “And it didn’t exactly go well.”

Koda had encouraged them to demonstrate the power of their Graces---bless his oblivious little mind. And while Poppy could certainly use her Grace to their advantage, the next best Grace to use in the midst of battle would be the Grace of Soul. Which Sage didn’t have. 

Adrian’s Grace of Void would offer little help. Sure, the other teams wouldn’t be able to use their Graces to attack him, but weapons could still do a fair amount of damage. 

Jett’s Grace of Deceit wouldn’t be useful unless they needed someone to infiltrate another team. Similarly, Nakoa’s Grace of Time wasn’t practical for the fighting that would surely be a part of the trial. Adrian didn't know what kind of trick she’d managed to pull off during the qualifiers, but he doubted she’d be able to do it again. 

Poppy wrinkled her nose, obviously offended. “Fine, Mister-Doom-and-Gloom. Since you have so little faith in our team, I’m going to prove to you why you’re wrong.”

The claim was so bold and outrageous that Adrian had to stifle a laugh. 

Poppy leapt to her feet and when Adrian moved to follow her, she put a hand on his shoulder and offered a condescending smile. “Oh, no. You just wait right here, your highness.”

She skipped away merrily without giving him a chance to respond.

Adrian watched, unable to deny his curiosity as Poppy spoke briefly to Sage, who had been trying his hand at the crossbow and failing miserably. She whispered something in his ear that made him smile and something tugged at Adrian’s gut. 

Sage and Poppy returned to the sparring circle a few minutes later, both sporting identical smirks. 

“What did you tell him?” Adrian asked, not bothering to mask his irritation. 

“That you pick your nose and eat it,” Poppy answered, feigning innocence. Adrian stuck out his tongue at her and wondered if maybe his brain was rotting. 

“I want to fight,” Sage announced, adjusting his glasses. “Just a quick fight. First to land a hit wins.”

Shouldn’t last long, Adrian almost said. 

He retrieved his practice sword from the center of the ring---the edges blunt so they wouldn’t inflict as much harm. Sage grabbed an identical blade and held it out in front of him. The weapon looked awkward in his hands. 

Poppy counted down from three, and Adrian detected a hint of amusement in her voice. “Begin!” 

Sage didn’t move and neither did Adrian. They froze, staring at each other until Poppy snickered, breaking them out of their stupor. Adrian tapped his foot forward and Sage flinched, flushing with color when no attack came. 

Don’t toy with him, the voice in his head chided. 

Adrian went in for the kill, prepared to slash wildly and end the fight before it even began. But when he lunged to attack, Sage suddenly disappeared. It was like he was there one moment and gone the next. 

He felt the hard press of a sword against his stomach. Adrian looked down, embarrassment flooding him with heat as he realized Sage must have easily ducked beneath his swing and countered with an attack of his own. Adrian’s instructors would have allowed the blade to cut him as punishment, but Sage hadn’t completed the attack. He didn’t need to. 

“That was luck,” Adrian sputtered, trying to ignore Poppy’s smug grin. 

“No, it was strategy,” Sage amended, stepping away from Adrian. “You broadcast your movement for everyone to see. It’s a matter of reading your body language and moving to block it--”

“All right, all right. I don’t need a lecture,” Adrian said, glad that Sage shut up. “You win, Poppy. You’re right.”

“I’m gonna need you to say that again--”

“Absolutely not,” Adrian cut her off. She’d been correct in the assessment that they all had different strengths. Apparently, Sage could read people like books, because Adrian was sure that his instructors had drilled it into his mind and body to be unpredictable. “You did well, Sage.”

Sage shrugged. “Faking a Grace for half your life has its perks.”

It was Adrian’s turn to make dinner. 

They’d decided early on that each night, a different team member would prepare a meal in the spirit of fairness. Koda said they could bring other people into their apartment if needed, but Adrian didn’t want anyone else to know he was competing. 

Too bad he had no experience in the kitchen. 

“I don’t think the stove is supposed to smoke like that,” commented Jett. 

Adrian glared at him. “Really? I thought black smoke was normal.”

Jett held up his hands in mock surrender. “Look, I speak for all of our stomachs when I say I’m starving. And I would really prefer it if dinner wasn’t burnt to a crisp.” 

Well maybe someone else should make dinner then, Adrian almost shot back. Someone who can actually use the kitchen without starting a fire. 

“I can send for Ansel,” Nakoa offered. “He could grab us some pastries or something and drop them by the door. That way he won’t discover who any of you are.”

“If we’re getting delivery, I’ll just ask Evangeline if she can make one of her famous casseroles,” Jett said. “They are to die for.” 

Adrian scowled. “You all doubt my cooking that much?”

Sage didn’t look up from his book. “Even I know that pizza isn’t supposed to be in the oven for that long.”

“That’s when you know you’re bad at something,” Jett said. “If Goldilocks can do it, you should be able to do it too.”

Adrian turned to the stove, grimacing as the black smoke poured out of it. He cracked open the tiny window above the sink and grabbed the thick gloves from the counter, pulling them over his hands. Coughs racked his body as he flung open the oven door and pulled out the tray with what remained of the “dinner”. 

“I thought I told you to stop calling me Goldilocks,” Sage complained. 

“It fits,” Jett said, wrinkling his nose at the smoking mass in Adrian’s hands. “You have locks and they’re gold. Goldilocks.”

Adrian took one last look at his attempted meal and dumped the tray in the trash can. “Okay, fine. I give up. We can ask Koda to get us food.”

“I’ll run to the front desk and ask someone to send for him,” Nakoa said, whistling for Moose. The dog went bounding after her and they disappeared out the door. 

Adrian peeled off the gloves and tossed them on the counter before joining Jett and Sage on the couches. The center table was covered in stray notes on everyone’s Graces and skills, as well as detailed strategies for possible Trials. Adrian grabbed the nearest stack and began to flip through it. This was Poppy’s project and Adrian decided it would probably be worth it to read at least some of it. But speaking of Poppy--

Before he could ask if anyone had seen Poppy recently, the door to the apartment burst open and Nakoa and Poppy stumble inside, Moose trailing happily at their heels. 

“The king,” Poppy wheezed, out of breath. “King Hector is coming.”

Adrian leapt to his feet. “What?!” 

“He’s visiting each team before the Trials begin,” Nakoa explained, eyes wide with panic.

Adrian’s heart spasmed. He cursed under his breath and ran a hand through his hair. His father couldn’t know he was here, not yet. Aida was supposed to keep him away--

“I can disguise him,” Jett said quickly. “My Grace--”

“Your Grace won’t work on me,” Adrian cut him off. “Grace of Void, remember?”

“Is the king forcing everyone to unmask?” Sage asked, his voice high and reedy. 

Nakoa shrugged. “He’d just walked into the building when I went up to ask for Koda. We still have a few rooms between the front desk and us, so we still have time.” 

“Time for what? To come with an elaborate excuse as to why I can’t answer the door?” Adrian asked. Fates. Fates. Fates, he needed to think of something. Anything. “I can’t even risk speaking. He would definitely recognize your voice.”

“And if you’ve lived with him for nearly eighteen years, he’s going to recognize your body language too,” Poppy added. “Unless you’re an excellent actor.”

Adrian shook his head. He hated how useless he was under pressure. His thoughts raced by, too fast to comprehend. A disguise? His father would see right through that. Could he pretend to be asleep? No, any person in their right mind wouldn’t want to miss a once in a lifetime chance to meet the king in favor of a nap. 

“Adrian, are you even listening?”

He snapped back to reality as Poppy shook his shoulders gently. “Uh, no, sorry.”

Poppy rolled her eyes, though there was something that looked suspiciously like concern in her gaze. “Jett’s going to try to disguise you with his Grace.”

Adrian opened his mouth to protest, but Poppy pressed a finger to his lips. “No arguments. I need you to concentrate really hard on turning off your Grace. With all of the other Graces, power is a matter of will. It has to be the same for your Grace…”

Adrian sucked in a breath, trying to drown out her rambling. He imagined he was wearing his Grace as an armor, impenetrable to all the other Graces. Then he peeled off the armor piece by piece. Something cold---almost like a breeze from the north---brushed against his chest. He shivered and opened his eyes. 

“It worked!” Poppy cheered, her stormy eyes alight with pride. She was so close Adrian could almost count the freckles that dusted her cheeks--

“Great,” Jett gritted out. “Let’s hope the king makes this visit quick. I don't know how long I can hold the illusion.” 

Sage put a hand on Jett’s shoulder. “You can ease up on the illusion around his arms and probably his clothes, too. The king is only going to care about his face, and if he’s really paying attention, he might check the hands for calluses.”

“Which I have,” Adrian said. 

“But most competitors are going to have bruised knuckles and nails that aren’t perfectly kept,” Sage corrected. Adrian glanced down self-consciously at his hands, reluctant to admit that Sage was right. 

The tension in Jett’s shoulders loosened slightly, though his brow was still beaded with sweat. 

“You could release some of your own little illusion,” Poppy suggested. 

Jett paled slightly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Poppy scoffed. “I don’t need the Grace of Deceit to see through your illusion, Jett. You look nothing like you did when we were little.”

“People change.”

Poppy raised a brow. “Not that dramatically.”

Jett shot her a glare, but Adrian watched in surprise as Jett’s features seemed to soften and shift. His hair darkened to a shade similar to Adrian’s while his eyes lightened to a caramel. The changes were minimal so he still looked like the same boy as before, but Adrian could sense Jett’s Grace strengthening as he chipped away at the illusions. 

“Better?” Jett asked, his voice sharp with an edge of bitterness. 

Before Poppy could respond, a knock at the door sent them all jumping to their feet. Nakoa leapt to answer the door and Adrian drifted backward. He trusted Jett’s illusion, but… he felt uncomfortable in his own skin. 

Jett’s Grace swirled around the two of them. Adrian was amazed that he had never sensed the Graces before. He could feel Nakoa’s lying dormant in her chest while Poppy’s spread outwards with tendrils brushing against each of the team members. Sage was noticeably empty and Adrian felt a pang of pity for the boy. 

His thoughts were quickly interrupted as King Hector stepped into the apartment. 

“Your Majesty,” Sage whispered with reverence, and dropped into a bow. Adrian’s teammates followed suit and he found his knees buckling beneath him. Was it Poppy’s doing? Probably. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to thank her or curse her.

Adrian’s father made a contented noise, almost like a purr. “By the Fates, this is an interesting team.”

Adrian forced himself not to react as his father’s eyes wandered over his teammates. Your mannerisms will give you away. He copied Sage, waiting a few moments before standing again. Ignoring his instincts, Adrian forced his hands to his sides instead of folded neatly behind his back. He tried to mimic Jett’s lazy stance but only succeeded in making himself look woozy on his feet. 

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Sage said. 

Adrian’s father laughed. “You must be Franklin’s son. He never said anything about you participating in the Tournament.”

Sage looked uncomfortable as he answered, “Actually, I was planning on surprising him once we won the Tournament. He doesn’t know I’m competing yet.”

The king’s eyes burned with amusement. “Ah, I see. Well in that case, I didn’t see you hear.” He gave a conspiratorial smile and bile rose in Adrian’s throat. His father never acted like this---so carefree and amused, as if he wasn’t conversing with possible killers. 

He seemed to scrutinize them again and with every passing second Adrian could feel Jett’s weakening. Right, because the king had the Grace of Void, like Adrian. His Grace was probably battling Jett’s and it was only a matter of time before the illusion slipped. 

“Which one of you is my daughter’s Champion?” King Hector asked. He didn’t mean it as a threat, but Adrian could sense the judgment in his voice.

Poppy nudged him in the side and Adrian stepped forward, keeping his eyes focused on the ground. No civilian would dare look the king in the face---especially one with supposed “relations” to the princess. 

“Do I know you?”

Adrian shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant when he really just wanted to hide. 

“Where did you and my daughter meet?”

“At the Qualifiers, Your Majesty,” Adrin answered, dropping the pitch of his voice and slurring his words. He finally dared to look at his father, only to be met with a deep frown. 

“Your Majesty,” interrupted one of the guards that flanked the king’s sides. “We have other teams to visit, so we best get going.” His nose wrinkled. “What is that smell?”

The king inhaled deeply and coughed. “Whatever it is, it’s horrid.”

“That would be the Champion’s cooking,” Poppy said, offering a sweet smile. Adrian wanted to slap her. 

The king gave Adrian one last look before stumbling backwards. “I think it would be wise for me to leave now. Sorry for the quick departure, but alas, my guards are right. I have other teams to visit so … good luck!”
He hurried out the door without another word, tripping over his robes and choking on the smoke. Once the door was closed, Nakoa rushed forward and flipped the lock. 

Adrian exhaled a sigh of relief. He felt Jett’s Grace release the illusion and gently reached up to touch his face. The high cheekbones he’d inherited from his mother were back, as were his father’s dark waves. 

“Thank you,” Adrian mumbled to Jett, who looked extremely pale and sweaty. 

“You’re welcome for saving your--” Jett didn’t get to finish as his eyes rolled back in his head and he crumpled like a paper doll. Sage managed to catch Jett’s head before it hit the ground. 

“He just needs sleep,”Adrian decided. “Apparently disguising me really weakened his Grace.”

“How would you know?” Sage asked, his tone a bit defensive. 

Adrian struggled for the words to explain what he’d experienced. “When I let Jett use his Grace on me, it was almost like it opened me up to everyone’s Graces. I … It’s like I can sense Graces now, but that doesn’t make sense. The Grace of Void is supposed to block Graces, not detect them…”

“It’s a mystery for another time,” Poppy interjected just as someone knocked on the door. “Right now, I just want dinner.” She shot a look at Adrian. “Dinner that isn’t completely charred.”