Prodigal Steelwielder (Seals of the Duelists Book 3) by Jasmine Giacomo Read Free Book Online Page A

out of nowhere. “Kiwani?”
    Her eyebrows lifted, but she remained otherwise still. Between her growing magic and her fading social skills, little surprised her anymore. “Hello, Tala. Are you here for your news or mine?”
    “You have news?” Tala stepped through the bright white ring of her portal, bearing crystals on their brass stands. The singer sat beside her, facing the opposite direction. Her portal closed as she clasped her crystals. The singer’s hair, long and dark like Kiwani’s, wasn’t braided and floated freely in the breeze, wafting out over the edge of safety.
    If she falls, her magic won’t be fast enough to save her. Lucky. “No. Nothing new since your last visit.”
    Tala cocked her head. “Then why did you say you had news?”
    “You don’t want to hear my news. It’s not relevant.”
    Tala sat up straight. “Well, I don’t really have news, either. But everyone says the only hex sessions you come to are your own. I thought you might like to visit the campus tonight, as an observer. It’s Eward’s turn.” Tala’s hand closed over hers unexpectedly. “I know you’re lonely out here. I’m so sorry. But you know this was never the plan. We all must do what we can. Just remember, you’re never truly alone. You have us, as often as you like.”
    Kiwani let her hand go limp beneath Tala’s grip. None of you are the one I want to see. I’m alone. And thanks to my former godfather, I always will be.
    She turned her stunned expression back to the distant horizon and simply waited until Tala’s patience ran out and the singer left. Eventually, Kiwani stepped off the edge of the arena, let Stratus, her Wind avatar, catch her a stride above the ground, and made her way into the arena tunnel toward the living area.
    Voices caught her ear: Akha and Gorwin, her fellow den duelists. Kiwani paused and leaned against the wall to listen.
    “You really don’t think she’s losing it? I mean, look at what she wears. What is that supposed to mean?” Akha asked.
    A sigh. “She’s fine, really. Remember what she’s been through. Considering that, I’d say she’s pretty stellar right now, compared to, say, Duelist Tarin. No one wants her handicap, even if she is one of those folk-hero Hexmates.”
    “But Duelist Tarin had that handicap even at the Academy. She’s always been broken. No matter what all these Hexmage-worshipping nutmeats think, I’m frankly shocked that they wasted an entire duelist on minding her so she’s able to duel, and one from her own crazy hex, at that.”
    Gorwin’s voice sharpened. “Enough of that now. You and I both know that even if we could hex our magic together, we’d still be no match for Duelist Kiwani. We get duel requests from as far away as Shaiwak and Najunaw. We even had the governor come all the way from Yewakma. That’s all because of her. All the attention we get? Her credit. Not to mention the creation of this duel den in the first place: it wouldn’t be here if Kiwani wasn’t. You let it be. Don’t draw attention. In fact, consider yourself lucky that you get to serve with a duelist of her repute.”
    Akha grumbled under her breath. “It isn’t all bad, but I wouldn’t go so far as to count myself lucky to serve under this particular Hexmate. She’s not even truly here most of the time. She just stares whenever I talk to her. Even for simple things like ‘pass the salt.’ How are we supposed to live with someone like that, let alone duel with her?”
    Eventually, the other duelists’ talk turned to other subjects, boring and pedantic. Kiwani had no appetite, so she returned to the outer edge of the arena tunnel and sat in the grass. She had no love for any denizen of the three towns that sat roughly equidistant from her arid southern home. The prison where they had made her Head Duelist. The only member of her hex to be given such distinction. The only member of her hex to be cast so far from civilization as to need an entire duel den