A Girl in Black and White (Alyria 2)

We were tossing five stones in the air, catching as many as possible on the back of our hand, then catching as many as possible in our palms.

When I won, triumph flourished inside me. I didn’t care if he was letting me win or not, though I liked to imagine he was just not as good as me. However, I imagined if he played like this was a true competition, it wouldn’t be a game any longer. The look in his eyes told me that might be more accurate than my honest win. I’d still take it.

“Are you going to enter the tourney?”

“No.”

“Why not? You would win,” I blurted.

Darn my honesty . . .

A sly smile pulled on his lips. “That confident of me, Princess?”

A shiver went through me at that stupid nickname. “Well, all I’m saying is that you’re not human, and therefore have an advantage.” I shrugged. “Of course you would win.”

“I don’t wish to kill my brother.”

Oh . . . I supposed Roldan would be entering that. I shivered at the idea of him ruling a city. And then I couldn’t help but feel resentment seep into my chest that Weston hadn’t killed Roldan for what he did to me. That he wouldn’t. I swallowed, pushing the dangerous feeling away. “Just your father, then?”

He shook his head. “I don’t have that kind of future ahead of me, besides.”

I faltered. How could I forget? He seemed so normal . . . so sane, sitting here with me that I’d overlooked the fact that he wouldn’t have a stable future ahead of him. Before I could let that sink in, he was already taking his turn.

“What business do you have in the city?” he asked.

“Pass.” I didn’t think he knew about the Fate. And I surely wasn’t going to tell him.

His eyes narrowed.

I lifted a shoulder. “You passed, so can I. Ask something else.”

He looked at me, and just as I had done before when I felt cheated that he passed, he asked a silly question. “What color are you partial to?”

A laugh bubbled up my throat as I thought it through. “Pink, I think.”

He raised a brow.

“What?” I said, readjusting myself on my knees. “Pink is bright . . . and hopeful.”

“All right, Princess,” he said, amused. “Your turn. And don’t cheat this time. You never threw one of those rocks, you held it in between your fingers.”

Yea, yea . . .

“What does the red ring mean?”

Don’t pass. Don’t pass.

To my amazement, he didn’t. “The T all Titans get when they’re sworn in. Each black ring signifies a different challenge we’ve won. The thicker the ring, the more prestigious the opponent—”

“What are the challenges for?”

He shrugged. “Power. What else?”

Indeed.

He continued. “The red ring is a sign of shame. When I was eighteen, I left Titan for a few years, and when I chose to come back, I had to take the mark of dishonor and the punishment that came with it.”

“Where did you go?”