“Who are you?” someone asked in a gruff male voice.
Startled, I jerked my gaze away from the man performing the obstacle course. Three warriors stood in front of me. In my distraction, I’d missed their approach, too fixated on what was happening far away to realize what was right in front of my face. “Well?” demanded one of the men, crossing his arms over his chest. I visually traced the lines of the flame tattoo etched across his umber skin. No phoenix tattoo. Not yet a sworn warrior, just a trainee. The man to his right was clean-shaven, his pale skin quickly turning an angry, blotchy red. He had short blond hair cropped close to his head and his hand on the hilt of a sword.
Confusion. Anger. Haughty indignation. Each face displayed a different emotion as the men stared me down. They wore warrior’s clothes, outfitted with leather pads on the arms and shoulders, presumably so their phoenix companions could safely land since their talons were likely sharp enough to pierce fabric. They were armed and extremely muscular. Except for the man on the left, who was scrawnier than the other men. The only warrior who looked more intrigued than hostile.
The blond warrior chimed in. “What’s a woman doing at our training grounds, Rem?”
“Great question, Sargan. Who are you? Are you lost?” Rem asked again, clenching his jaw. “You’re interrupting Emerson’s debut.” He grabbed the shoulder of the man on the left, roughly jostling him back and forth.
I plastered a friendly smile across my face. It was too late to turn back now. What would win these men over? The soldier on the right, Sargan, looked like he could sniff out weakness a mileaway. “My name is Elvira,” I said. Then, with false bravado, “You can address me as the Midnight Sovereign.”
Their laughter was deafening.
A loud thump drew everyone’s attention back to the obstacle course. The man I’d been watching picked himself up off the ground. He must have fallen. He shook it off, apparently unscathed, his wavy brown hair ruffled from physical exertion. Maybe he fell from one of the lower beams. He waved at us, shouting gleefully as he jogged over to join our small huddle, “Did you see that? I made it almost halfway!”
Sargan whacked him sociably on the back. “Not bad, Malwin. You’ll have a phoenix in no time.”
“Did you burn your hands at all?” Rem asked.
“Nah. I could feel the magic slipping. I knew I needed to drop. Who’s this?”
Rem shrugged. “Just some woman. Thinks she can boss us around.”
Malwin smiled cruelly. “Sounds like someone needs to teach her some manners.”
Hastily, I retrieved my coin purse. If these men possessed any goodwill, it was rapidly dwindling. I tried to keep the fear out of my voice. “I’ve come to barter for phoenix flame. Trust me, you want to hear me out. I have money to offer.”
Sargan narrowed his eyes, his lips curling into a sneer. “Phoenix flame? Why should we give you anything?”
Rem nodded in agreement. “Go play pretend somewhere else. We’re busy.”
Looking back and forth between all of them, there was only one sympathetic gaze to be found. I locked eyes with Emerson. He pursed his lips, my silent plea seemingly setting off some internal debate within him. He shook his head slowly, running a hand through his sandy blond hair, before making up his mind. He held my gaze, winking at me conspiratorially, beforeaddressing the other men. “I’ve heard that title. It’s used by one of the noble families. Haven’t you ever read a book before, Malwin? I think we should listen to what she has to say. I mean, she’s clearly not lying about having coin.”
Malwin’s jaw tightened. “Even the nobles aren’t entitled to the phoenix’s gifts. We owe her nothing.”
“They aren’t for sale. You have to be worthy of them,” Rem seconded. Even as they denied my request, the men stared greedily at my coin purse. Theywereinterested; maybe if I just pressed harder, they could be convinced to change their minds.
“Is there something I could do to prove my worth?” I asked.
Sargan looked thoughtful. “Why not let her try the course? We’re already letting one girl compete today…”
Another round of laughter. Emerson blinked. Sargan’s taunt was clearly meant for him. I recognized such bullying from my years at the orphanage. It was childish behavior, after all. Growing up, I was often a target for the other children. Now, I understood they likely resented the special treatment our Fae patron, Mitalar, used to show me when he visited. At the time, I suffered in silence, trying my best not to upset the older children. Mitalar taught me about my Fae heritage, but his attention did me no favors at the orphanage in the long run.
I studied the phoenix overhead. Did I have what it took to succeed? And would they actually honor the bargain if I did? Even in flight, it held itself so regally. Everything about it radiated quiet dignity. I was willing to bet it understood a thing or two about honor. I doubted the warriors, who lived and died by their ability to bond with such a creature, would go back on their word if they gave it.
It was a chance.
“Do you promise? If I succeed, you will grant me the gift of phoenix flame? It’s a deal?”
“And the coin. Then we have a deal,” Sargan said, yanking the coin purse out of my hand.
“Wait—” Emerson attempted to interject, but Malwin placed a hand on his chest, silencing him.
I was no stranger to exercise. A portion of my day was dedicated to keeping up my fitness. More to pass the time and stave off boredom than anything else. Between that and the Fae blood somewhere in my lineage, I might just stand a chance. I was tougher than I looked. Still, swinging from rope to rope was going to require quite a bit of upper body strength. Maybe being physically lighter than the men would provide me an advantage. Less weight dragging me down.
“It’s a deal. Can someone please explain to me why the course is floating?” I questioned.
“Merrick set it up for us. He’s an adept. He can channel his phoenix’s capacity for flight.”
