Two guards then appeared from the shadows at the forest's edge, their heavy boots crunching against fallen leaves as they approached our gathering. Between them, they carried a wooden chest that immediately drew every eye. The container was no simple storage box—its dark oak surface bore the deep scars of age and use, while ancient sigils had been carved into every visible surface.
The guards reached the center of the clearing, standing just before the line of contestants, and set the chest down with reverent care. One of them opened it. Inside, nestled in beds of midnight-blue velvet, lay a series of containment vessels. Each vessel was identical to the glass spheres where the creatures had begun their brief captivity—the same clarity, the same delicate tracery of silver runes spiraling around their circumference. But these orbs were empty, waiting, ready to hold whatever darkness the knights coaxed within their confines.
“These orbs are not cages,” Mordred said as he reached inside the wooden box and retrieved one of the glass orbs, holding it aloft for all to see. He turned to face the knights before him. “They are extensions of your will. They respond to intent—not force.”
He ran his fingers across the orb’s surface, and dormant runes glowed faintly in response.
“Force will fail you,” he continued, his voice like flint. The two guards lifted the chest and approached Mordred. He handed the knight nearest him, Tristan, the first orb. Then he reached inside the chest and pulled out another orb, handing it to the next knight in line and so on. He moved among the knights, distributing an orb to each. I stepped forward, letting my gaze sweep across them all.
“Remember,” I said, my voice low but commanding, “how you hunt reveals more than what you capture. I do not seek knights who wield power for its own sake—I seek those whounderstandits purpose—those who can put aside their individual differences in order to work together—to become a stronger whole.”
I paused, letting the weight of my words settle, and met each knight’s eyes in turn.
“The greatest magic users in our history knew the difference between command and collaboration.” I nodded once. “Show me that you do as well.”
Mordred cleared his throat then and began reading off the pairs of knights.
My gaze found Lioran again.
It always did.
Not merely due to the knight’s performance in the previous trials—though they were impressive. There was something else. Elusive. A pull I couldn’t explain. I studied him now—how he adjusted his vambrace while waiting to hear with whom he'd be partnered. But he would not hear that from Mordred.
I looked at Lance. "I want you to pair with him."
Lance turned sharply toward me. "You wantmein the Hunt?"
I nodded once. "Yes."
Lance frowned in confusion. "I thought the point of these trials was for thecandidatesto prove themselves?"
"This trial may be for the candidates, but I need you to watch Lioran. Learn how he works. How he thinks."
"Your fears that he is siding with Carlisle run deeper than you let on."
I nodded. "I worry that Carlisle could be up to something. Plotting something. His interest in Lioran—"
"—is concerning," Lance finished for me. "Yes, I agree."
I nodded. "You're my finest blade, Lance—and the sharpest judge of character I know."
He searched my face, reading the subtext beneath the command. After a pause, he inclined his head. "As you wish. I’ll provide a thorough assessment."
"Nothing formal," I added. "Just…seehim. Then tell me what you see."
He gave a small, knowing smile. Then, with a respectful nod, Lance descended the steps and made his way toward Lioran. His armor gleamed like onyx in the morning light, catching the eyes of more than a few knights as he crossed the yard.
Mordred appeared surprised to see Lance as the latter approached Lioran. Surprised because I hadn't told Mordred of my plot to see the two paired. I'd simply told him not to pair Lioran with another contestant.
"Your newest protégé," Mordred said as he walked up to me and motioned to Lioran, then Lance, "and your oldest friend."
I glanced at him and nodded. "This should prove interesting, as Lance usually hunts alone."
Mordred smiled faintly. "Then let us see whether that independence is a strength—or the first crack in their alliance."
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
-LANCE-
