Protagonist Bound (24 page)

Okay, backstory time.

Late last night after I got back from my walk on the beach, Blue’d had the brilliant idea to go undercover and compete in the boys’ Twenty-Three Skidd tournament today.

After Daniel’s assertion at the ball that girls could not hack it as heroes in such an event, I had been inspired enough to do the same. Furthermore, I’d kind of always wanted to give the game a try.

Twenty-Three Skidd was the most popular sport in our realm. A long time ago, jousting had been the preferred game of choice for Book’s heroes and athletes. However, one day some genius was all, “Hey we’ve got Pegasus horses. Wouldn’t that make the game more interesting?
”
And (since they were obviously right) this adjustment was made to the game permanently.

Following that, one year at the Century City Summit a Fairy Godmother named Belinda Skidd described a strange, aggressive game that she had observed while visiting Earth on some business. It was called “Lacrosse,” and it was said to be the most fearsome sport in all the realms.

This idea fascinated everyone so much that our jousting game was modified even further until it became Twenty-Three Skidd—the competition we knew and loved today.

As part of our little week-long field trip, the boys from Lord Channing’s were holding a grand tournament of the sport this morning. The intent: to entertain the damsels.

You know, muscular boys competing in a public arena to demonstrate to the observing girls who amongst them is the strongest, the fastest, and who can take off their shirt with the most pizzazz mid-fight.

Needless to say watching such a spectacle was so not my speed. Moreover, Blue and I hadn’t been in the practice fields in days and were getting fidgety. After a week of ballroom dancing and fishing lectures instead of our regular private combat training, we were most definitely not in the mood to spend an afternoon on the sidelines. Even if we hadn’t been craving the action-adrenaline rush, we still wouldn’t have settled for that. Because, seriously, what sounded like more fun: a fierce athletic battle in the sky, or sitting on velvet-cushioned bleachers clapping every time some prince did a victory lap around the arena after scoring a goal?

“Neither of you should be doing this,” SJ nagged, even as she handed us pieces of armor. “Especially you, Crisa.”

“Hey, why especially me?”

“Because whether you admit it or not, you barely got any sleep. You were tossing and turning all last night with your nightmares.”

I opened my mouth to object. Not because she wasn’t right, but because I wanted to know how
she
knew that. It was true, last night a flurry of agonized nightmares about Natalie Poole had twisted across my sleeping consciousness like a cyclone. My only break from her torment had been tempered gusts of equally unwelcomed presences to my dreamscape. And those had featured the voice of that nameless, faceless boy whose dark essence and enigmatic words relentlessly pervaded my sleep and made me cringe nocturnally.

Between the two of them, I was kept tossing and turning until sun up. Although since I hadn’t said anything to SJ or Blue about it this morning I couldn’t fathom how SJ had possibly deduced it.

I was about to probe this matter further when she cut me off.

“Do not try and deny it either,” she said. “For goodness’ sake, the circles under your eyes speak for themselves.”

“Gee, thanks, SJ,” I huffed.

“I am just worried, all right,” she said, speaking in a much softer tone. “Please, just promise me that the two of you know what you are doing.”

“You know what they say, SJ,” Blue chimed in mischievously. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

SJ sighed and placed her fingers to her temple as if trying to suppress a headache. “I would feel better if you would at least take your wand with you, Crisa.”

“Too risky,” I replied. “Someone could see it transform. Or worse, it could fall out of my bag mid-flight.”

“Besides,” Blue interjected, “it’s bad enough those poor boys are about to be beaten by a couple of girls. They’d totally die if they knew they were beaten by a couple of girls wielding a magic wand. Why add insult to injury?”

Blue and I rapidly put on the remaining pieces of armor and the rest of our gear. We only had a few minutes left before we needed to report to the arena. As we finished getting ready, SJ fetched the final piece of our disguise from her purse—two tiny glass vials sealed with cork stoppers. They were each no bigger that an index finger and contained a navy-colored liquid.

“Okay,” she began, holding up the vials. “While I must remind you once more that I do not like using my potion skills to support your mischief, I did make these for you in the palace kitchen this morning. They should alter your voices to sound more masculine for about one hour.”

We each took a vial from her and uncorked it. The liquid inside smelled like grass stains, raw steak, and feet.

Gross.

“Uh, SJ . . . you learned how to make this potion in class, like, a month ago. You sure you got it right?” Blue asked hesitantly.

“Of course I got it right. You know I memorize every potion I learn. Now drink your liquid man-voice so we can get on with this madness.”

Blue and I grimaced, then each swallowed down our dose of the concoction in one quick swig. My stomach bubbled and a large belch escaped me. Then one came out of Blue.

“Testing, testing,” I said. “One, two, three!” On three, my voice sank four octaves.

Blue tested out her masculine voice then too and was delighted with the result. “Oh wow, this is going to make smack talk on the field so much more epic!” she exclaimed in her new deep resonance. “Check me, I’m a giant! Fee, Fi, Fo, Fum!”

“Blue, that is racist,” SJ scolded.

“Good grief, SJ! Give me a break. That was classic!”

The two of them continued to bicker as I went to retrieve our helmets from under a nearby orange tree.

When Blue had forged this rebellious idea of hers last night, we’d recognized that we wouldn’t exactly be able to ready ourselves in the locker rooms along with the boys. Add to that, two girls waltzing down to breakfast in full body armor wouldn’t have emoted the subtly or secrecy we were going for either.

As such, after foraging the castle for the armor we needed for the event, my friends and I had spent our post-ball hours sneaking into the Adelaide Castle orchard to hide our gear.

With trees so large and lush, this stretch of land was one of the most secluded and well-protected portions of the castle campus. Plus, it was only a couple miles away from the back entrance to Adelaide’s Twenty-Three Skidd arena on the adjacent cliffside. So it had been the perfect place for us to get ready without being found out.

“Ladies,” I interrupted as I returned with our helmets, “—and I use that term loosely since Blue and I currently sound like my Great Uncle Leroy. We’d better go take our places.”

I handed Blue her helmet and she put it on with some extra sass aimed in SJ’s general direction. SJ rolled her eyes, exasperated by Blue, but then wished us both good luck nonetheless as she made to leave the area.

Before disappearing through the trees completely I saw her glance back with an expression of uncertainty. She was worried.

I smiled to reassure her. That was usually my job in our unorthodox adventures. While others would be afraid of what was to come, I never allowed myself to admit such weakness. And because of that, I was typically charged with a role that was quite different in these scenarios—inspiring confidence in our crazy plans and, more often than not, coming up with them too.

“All right then,” I nodded to Blue as I put on my own helmet. “Let’s go shake things up, shall we?”

The entrance tunnel smelled like seawater and boy sweat.

Blue and I were standing in the underground waiting area just beneath Adelaide’s Twenty-Three Skidd arena. We were surrounded on all sides by princes and heroes, but none of them detected our girlish presence. Most of the boys were fully armored up by now—ready to make their journey out of the tunnel at any moment—so beneath our armor, Blue and I blended right in.

In addition to the protection of our disguises, we also had disorder on our side to serve as sufficient cover. Unlike normal Twenty-Three Skidd games, today there was no pre-ordained division of players into specific teams. Yes, Lord Channing’s had five different Twenty-Three Skidd teams that competed against one another throughout the school year. However, as this morning’s tournament was more of a showcase for the enjoyment of its observers and bore no weight on their teams’ internal rankings, it was sort of like a free for all. Any Channing’s student who wanted to participate (whether they were officially on a team or not) could do so. Meanwhile those who didn’t feel like playing could simply watch from the stands.

Blue and I had learned that all the boys wishing to enter today’s event were supposed to meet down here a half hour before the match, armored up and ready to receive team assignments once let onto the field. As such, no one suspected that we didn’t belong. We were just another couple of heroes biding their time in the bustling tunnel before the game got underway.

Despite the assurances of these factors, and SJ’s potion, we still decided to keep uncharacteristically low profiles and not speak to anyone.

I didn’t consider this a great loss. Boys weren’t that into small talk anyways.

As we waited, I spotted Daniel, Jason, and Chance in the corner. They didn’t have their helmets on yet, so they were easy to pick out in the crowd.

Chance had decided to go without body armor (probably to show off the muscles beneath his tight t-shirt), but was wearing bronze shin and elbow guards that matched his helmet. Daniel and Jason, on the other hand, were both fully armored up like sensible people. Jason’s gray armor had a maroon design and a crest with a picture of an ox. Daniel’s armor was all onyx black, with a blue lion insignia on the left shoulder, matching the blue feathering on top of his helmet.

Their gear was sleek, no doubt custom-made, and caused me to feel a little jealous. Blue and I had on the plainest of silver armor, which was slightly rusting and carried the odor of mothballs with it. Even our helmets were subpar; they were super scratched up and had withered feathering on top—mine was purple, Blue’s was orange.

Overall the suits were as unextraordinary and traditional as you could get. But then the two of us couldn’t afford to be picky seeing as how we’d had to “borrow” these off some of the suits of armor in Adelaide Castle’s more deserted hallways.

What can I say, you have to work with what you’ve got.

I twiddled my thumbs in silence next to Blue, but after a while I started to get a bit angsty waiting in the confined, underground space.

Was there like a rule that said we couldn’t wait in a place that had proper ventilation, or at least snacks?

Suddenly the gates opened, sunlight filled the tunnel, and we were called forward.

The boys began to march confidently toward the light. Blue and I followed their lead, our ears adjusting to the cheers that grew louder as we made our way outside. When we finally reached the end of the tunnel, there was only one word to accurately describe what I saw and how I felt:
Spectacular
.

We faced a massive, open arena. The field was as green as physically possible and there were two giant goal posts 600 feet in the air on opposite ends of it, projecting high into the powdery clouds. All around us fans lined the bleachers, creating a roar of excitement made even more surreal by the morning mist blanketing the stadium.

I took a deep breath and forced my mind and fluttering heart to stay focused, despite the intoxicating atmosphere.

I knew the rules of jousting perfectly, like everyone did. Nevertheless, Lacrosse was pretty weird and (as mentioned), while I’d seen plenty of Twenty-Three Skidd matches in my time, since it was an all-boy sport I’d never actually played. Accordingly, as we made our way to the center of the arena I made myself run through the rules in my head just to be on the safe side.

Okay, for starters
,
rule one: No girls allowed.