Luna of Rogues

Part 18 - The Challenge

You've all been waiting ten chapters for this so bring out the popcorn and get comfy. It's finally time to watch Skye kick some major ass.

To begin with, the only thing I knew about my plan was that I had to be the only one to risk my life. No more armies. No more pointless slaughter. Just me. From there, I sketched out a rough idea. As Rhys had said, an army without a leader is like a train without tracks. So Brandon was the only one I needed to kill. One death and it would all be over.

The obvious choice was single combat. Brandon and I could fight to the death. The only trick would be making him accept, given that he had refused Rhys's challenge. Brandon had little to gain and a lot to lose by defeating me. So we had to make it worth his while.

While I was thinking about that, there was a commotion at the door; the twins were disagreeing again. I snatched a sandwich from the dwindling food supply before going to sort it out. I felt like momma wolf to a bunch of overgrown cubs.

"Don't touch it. It's probably a trap!"

"How could someone trap a piece of paper?"

"I don't know and I don't want to find out."

"This is ridiculous, I'm just going to—"

"What's going on, boys?" I asked when I reached the door. They had been assigned to guard it, probably just to keep them busy.

They both pointed at a crumpled piece of paper. It looked like it had been pushed under the door. The weird thing was, we hadn't heard anyone come down the stairs. The noise usually made my eardrums hurt.

I bent down to pick it up, hoping it was a message from Leo. But the words were so distinctively familiar that I choked on my food.

Rhodric's handwriting.

What. the. hell? If he had been here, why didn't he just come inside and talk to us instead of passing notes like a primary school child? Had someone else forged it? Delivered it for him?

I eyed the people nearest the door with suspicion. On one side, a coughing ten-year-old didn't seem a likely suspect. But to the left was Tom the Elder, whistling innocently. Rhodric's closest friend, who just happened to be here. Hmm.

With the mystery all but solved, I finally bothered to read the sketchy riddle. Or rather, I gave it to Fion, who read it aloud through the mind-link. Reading is hard. Why should I bother when my oh-so-helpful sister was so close?

At first I look like stupidity, but don't assume too quickly.

Those with nothing still have me, and often wish they didn't.

While I do not help you survive, I certainly make you thrive.

I can't be bought or sold, just swallowed for the right price.

The downfall of so many, yet you choose the road to peril.

What am I?

I hated my adopted father, I decided. Of course he couldn't give us a straight answer. No, that would be too easy. And not nearly as amusing. I think he enjoyed watching us struggle. But on this occasion, it wouldn't work. I wasn't book-smart, but I was street-smart, and the answer was so obviously pride.

It was helpful, if annoying. Brandon was clever and knew it, which made him stupid. He was so wrapped up in his self-importance, that he was blind to his shortcomings and desperately willing to believe he had won. So I'd give him that. I would let him stare victory in the face and then snatch it away.

"Yo, fam," I shouted, and the chattering rogues hushed obediently. Ah, gangster slang. Works every time. "I got a plan."

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