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BEFORE DAVINA knew it, the final day of stage one was upon them. Peter did not join her and Apollo for breakfast that morning, and the blonde girl sat mostly in silence as she chewed on her toast. Her mouth felt entirely too dry for the meal, and beside her, Apollo also stayed quiet, shovelling cereal into his mouth with an apprehensive expression. Davina could imagine the smart remarks Will would be making about them to his table– they probably looked dead to the world.
The training room was already filled by the time the pair got there, and with time to spare, even. Apollo had been much too anxious and had woken up earlier than usual. Davina had made some comment on it, jeering at him, but he had ignored her for once and just started to get dressed, which had been enough for her to realise how serious this was for him. Sure, it was serious for her– as Peter loved to tell her, she'd do whatever it took to be the best. But that would only destroy herself. If Apollo was not good enough, he would be Factionless.
It was clear who was at risk of being cut– Myra and Al stood out as people who barely won matches. Apollo was also on the chopping board, along with Drew. Davina had run over all the opponents, different ways they might be scored, and who was likely in what rank the night before, just to make herself feel better. She had calculated Edward was probably first, but between her and Peter, it was hard to tell. They had both lost to Edward, and were both consistent in wins.
A terrible thought struck Davina, but she tried to ignore it.
Four was their supervisor that day, and he was still sketching out the names on the blackboard. Davina and Apollo were both staring at it, as if that would make their instructor move faster. Somewhere, the door opened, and Tris entered– uncharacteristically late and alone.
"Fuck," Apollo hissed when Four moved away.
Davina felt that was a perfect way of describing the matches for the day.
Will and Myra were first– Will would win, of course (he did). Second, Christina and Al. It was quick and painless, the burly Candor boy still had not made peace with needing to fight to stay in Dauntless, and took the punches like that was his goal all along. He collapsed after a few minutes, and was dragged from the arena. And third was the cause for Apollo's curse.
Edward's name was written next to his, the middle fight. He was across the room, still comforting Myra on her loss and reassuring her to the best of his ability– Davina wasn't even sure if he had processed who his opponent was. Apollo surely had. His eyes were wide and he was hesitating in moving forward, even as the arena cleared. Losing on their final day would damage his rank beyond repair, even if he had started to improve. Apollo needed a win today, and against Edward, it was almost impossible.
It passed silently between the pair– even Davina had lost to Edward.
"Apollo," she snapped tightly as Four called their names.
