The next few days after my conversation with Johannes were a blur of preparation and strategy, with Slava assisting me with utilizing the crossbow correctly. Although it was extremely similar to a gun, its reload time and sheer weight made it different enough that I believed new strategies were in order.

  It was the day of the tournament and I was confined to this room until the tournament was over. Of course, I was allowed certain leeway when it came to that strict command, such as having Slava with me before the match started.

  “Right kiddo, you're going to be facing Bongi. I want his strengths, weaknesses, and how you're going to exploit them told to me in the next thirty seconds or I’m canceling the whole event.”

  I gave him a look, “You can't do that. It would be too embarrassing.”

  He just grinned, “You do realize that is a far better motivator than it is a discouragement, right?”

  “Yeah yeah.” I said, rolling my eyes before focusing on the mission, “Bongi’s ability allows him to meld with shadows. It gives him minor teleportation and minor invulnerability but its main feature is stealth, of course. The weakness is obvious, any source of light that snuffs out shadows will do. Such as if we were the first match of the day when the crystals directly above us were at their brightest. Say in the next hour, at one pm?”

  “You're welcome, by the way. I'm just glad that Colonel of yours was lenient when I told him the schedule.”

  My hair stood on end, that information giving me the same pause as the first time I heard it. But I don’t think even the Colonel would be brave enough to disobey Slava, not after he so openly disobeyed Mother.

  He walked over to all the supplies I had brought with me. Six grenades for Calder, a crossbow as a general defense weapon (and if Boris ascends by some miracle), body armor, regular pistols, and a helmet. He took a flashlight out of his pocket and put it on the table, “just in case. Oh, and I got the most powerful one Johannes was willing to part with, so it should work just fine even in the middle of the day. Now, I always liked being alone with my thoughts before a battle and my nerves are making my hands shake, so I shall leave you now.”

  He walked back to me, grabbing my hands and holding them tightly, “And Sofia. You got this. Knock 'em dead sweetheart.” He kissed me on the forehead and then walked out the door.

  I stood there, smiling at his display of support, before I triple-checked each weapon and other miscellaneous item that I had brought with me. When that was done, I went through every strategy I had on Bongi. From ranged weaponry to close-range weaponry, from guns to swords to grenades, I had a way to beat them all.

  I heard Major Shange’s voice start up at one point, probably giving a breakdown of each new high-ranker's perceived strengths and weaknesses. I had questioned my Mother on that when I was young. Why would she hand out information on how to beat future high rankers? She had looked disappointed at the question, then she gave me a three-hour lecture on why the high-ranker tournament exists.

  She believed that pressure and fear of a public event would show which high ranker was brave or cowardly, which one was violent or timid. And which one wilted under the crowd. She believed, wholeheartedly, that through violence people show you who they are. This could only be accomplished if the high rankers were untrained, undisciplined, and fresh recruits. That way you saw them, rather than their training.

  When she had finished her lecture, I only asked one question. That question was if the training that every future blessed received at school wouldn’t diminish the results we sought, since they did receive martial arts training and basic weaponry skills.

  She had thought for a moment, got down on one knee, and whispered in my ear that the training they received was subpar. Functional, making sure each of them weren't completely useless when they arrived at training, but nothing that would dampen their natural personalities.

  I stopped cleaning the pistol as I snapped back to reality, before I looked one way then the other, before saying, “Thank you brain. I needed that.”

  Finally, five minutes before the match started, I heard a soft knocking on my door. I rolled my eyes, Slava probably couldn’t take the nerves and wanted to walk me onto the platform. I would have to stop him at the entrance, but it would be nice to have him with me until the match started.

  I pulled the helmet on as I grabbed the pistols, body armor, crossbow, and flashlight. I holstered everything except for the crossbow, which I just slung across my back. I picked up the most important weapon, hidden behind all the clutter. My map. It almost buzzed when I picked it up, like even my ability was finally happy we got to use it in a live combat environment.

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  I was smiling as I walked to the door and threw it open. But that smile died as I saw who stood at my threshold.

  Colonel Walker gave me a raised eyebrow, “I don’t suppose that smile was for me?”

  My mouth was frozen shut. Every possibility I could think of with him being here and my match being five minutes away ended badly. He should not be here.

  He stood aside, holding the door open for me, “Walk you to the entrance?”

  I strode past him, keeping my chin in the air as I tried to shake loose the ice in my veins. The Colonel took this as permission for his request because he was walking beside me a moment later.

  Even his breath irritated me, and his presence was a reminder that thing is now a high ranker. Yes, Calder will put him in his place… but I shouldn’t have to make do with someone below even a runt.

  “Why are you here?” I asked calmly as we walked.

  He stayed silent.

  “Colonel Leon Walker, you have made my brigade actively worse over a wager that was unnecessary to begin with. You have made a civvie, who most likely can’t even read, a high ranker. One of us. And now you won’t even tell me why you are here?”

  We had rounded a corner, and the crowd's roars grew louder and louder with every step we took. He stayed silent.

  I grabbed his arm and, wrenching it backward to make him face me, the ice in my veins gave way to a fire in my chest, “Answer me! Why are you here? You won your incompetent wager! You have thrown your weight around! I get the point! Ju—”

  “Do you?” he said as he turned away from me, and kept walking. I ran up to him and I let him know the truth, what every high ranker whispers behind his back. What every blessed whispers behind his back.

  “Do I what? Do I get that you are an incompetent fool whose file is outright lying about you being a capable leader? That your great mistake, the one where you led a mission that resulted in the greatest disaster after the great loss, was actually not an accident? Yes, I get those things quite well, thank you.”

  I finished my scolding as I lengthened my stride. After I overtake this incompetent, I can get to my match and ignore this fool.

  I heard him snort behind me, as I felt every piece of gear and clothing I had on grow heavier and heavier with every step I took away from him.

  I stopped, turning on him with a huff and a finger raised, but he just walked past me like I wasn’t about to speak. I felt the weight lift when he was a few steps ahead, and I felt that fire in my chest makes its way into the back of my throat.

  “You didn’t act this way at the dinner, you coward! You sat there like a good dog, not breathing a word in my mother’s presence! Now tell me why you are here! Why walk me to the entrance? Have you come to gloat? Have you finally realized your place?”

  He snorted again as if I was beneath him. As if he could wave me away like I wasn’t the most important person in this stupid place. My fingers brushed the gun at my hip, a gentle reminder of who was really in control.

  As we rounded the corner I felt my crossbow bounce against my back, and for a heartbeat, I forgot how to breathe. I stood frozen in place as every insult I had thrown at him, every word I had spoken on the way here felt like they were laughing at me. For at the entrance, with all her beauty and grace, stood not Bongi, but Selena. Her head hung low, and the pistol in her hand was shaking.

  The Colonel grabbed me by the arm and marched me toward her. My feet were on autopilot, one foot in front of the other. I was too stunned to think before my wits returned and I screamed at the man dragging me, “Let go!”

  He let go. He was looking at the entrance, at Selena, standing there with her back to us, her head down like she had suffered the Colonel’s wrath. It was time he faced some of mine.

  My voice echoed in the hallway around us, “Do you have any idea what you are doing? Once Slava hears about this—”

  “He’ll see it, actually. In about two minutes,” the Colonel said with a shrug.

  “You are not clever! When Slava realizes what you have done, what do you think he’ll do? You incompetent fool! You will change the match thi—”

  He looked at me, and the words died in my throat. He had the same look when he was executing those lieutenants. Every emotion was stripped from his face, like the man on the other side of a gun who had decided he was going to use it.

  “My apologies, Sofia. But your disobedience in Marnus’s room that night was a step too far. Think of this as your final chance to course correct before training really starts.”

  He stopped looking at me, and turned back to the entrance, “And I must say, our little wager in the B ranker tournament was entertaining. Think of this punishment as a juvenile victory lap, if you want.”

  He walked forward now, stopping by Selena. My mind was reeling, trying to think of a way out of this. But I was blindsided. I had underestimated his hubris, underestimated how utterly stupid pettiness would make him.

  I shook my head. This reckless move would have dire consequences, but I couldn’t change it now. And I am the daughter of Alexander. I refuse to lose.

  I strode toward them, coming to stand next to Selena, and held out my hand, “Let us have a good match.”

  Selena turned to face me, tears brimming in her eyes. I realized she was terrified, of me, of the Colonel, of what was going to happen in the match. She was unprepared, and clearly never wanted to face me in the first match.

  She looked at my outstretched hand as if confused, before grasping it, her hands clammy from sweat and snot.

  All she managed to stammer out was, “he’s making me do this. I’m sorry.”