Slowly, my family returned to their old selves, or some tentative variation of it. Maurice and Warren told their jokes, shoving and jostling one another around like they had when they were teenagers. My mother barked at them to stop, even though she smiled all the while.
Maurice eventually had to go to work at Mac Watson’s shop, where he would spend the next ten grueling hours repairing bent and broken furniture that had already been repurposed a thousand times before. He was paid a pittance, whatever the poor could afford to spare in their gratitude, but he never complained. He said the work was more important than the money. Maurice squeezed my shoulder as he passed, the most affection I ever received from my oldest brother. But I knew he would do anything for me if I asked.
Soon after, Warren yawned and excused himself for bed. He worked the early morning shift as a rubbish collector and would need all the sleep he could get before then. He pulled me in for a hug, whispering wishes of good luck into my ear, before trudging up the stairs.
I prepared myself for my mother to attempt to convince me not to take the Oath again, but she didn’t. She simply patted the couch beside her and smiled. I settled in next to her and let her hold me until the sun set.
It was time.
I nodded goodbye and left the house to join the growing throng of men and women who’d reached the age of twenty-one making their way down to the tunnels. Some of their families came with them, but most didn’t. Most of our community understood that this was simply something one had to face alone, and their presence would only serve as a distraction.
At the bottom of the eastern stairwell, we emerged in front of tunnel number three. It was already open. The few teams that had made it that far and were going to attempt that Trial tonight were either loitering in front of it or already heading inside. I glanced to the right, toward tunnel number four. It was still closed, but a lone figure stood in front of it, checking his watch and pacing in an all too familiar way.
Cyrus.
Was he waiting for Dahlia? Was today the day they were going to attempt the fourth Trial? I took a step forward, but a hand dropped onto my shoulder, stopping me. I looked up into the irritated gaze of an old man.
“New candidates this way,” he grunted, motioning for us to go left, toward the northernmost side of the Deck and beyond. The Oathstone waited in the eleventh tunnel where we would offer our vows and receive our brand. But beside it rested the twelfth tunnel, the place where I’d watched my best friend disappear forever.
My feet wouldn’t budge. Despite the enormous crowd, I stood frozen in place. The tide of potential candidates broke and streamed around me as if I were a rock embedded at the bottom of a flowing river. Panic rose within my gut and, though I fought to push it down, all of my fears and failures rose with it, overcoming my self-control.
Powerless. Useless. Insignificant.
The words whispered against my subconscious in an unending torrent of self-loathing.
I blinked and glanced around. What was I doing here? Why was I doing this? It was insanity. I wouldn’t make it. I didn’t have a chance without Darius.
I’d just made up my mind to turn around and forget the whole ridiculous thing when someone shoved me forward and I stumbled into the mob moving toward the eleventh tunnel.
“To the stone,” the old man snapped behind me.
I gritted my teeth and followed the crowd, forcing my gaze anywhere but at the dreadful archway as we passed the twelfth tunnel. Even still, I could practically feel an aura of darkness radiating from it and burning the back of my neck as I walked on.
Outside the eleventh tunnel, I queued behind the other men and women waiting to pledge their Oath and officially join theTrials. Some were shifting about nervously, some were silent, stoically looking ahead, but most were excited. I stared into the maw of the tunnel, waiting for someone to emerge.
Soon enough, they did.
It was a man. He grinned wide as he ran toward a group of his friends, pointing at the red mark on his forehead. They cheered and clapped him on the back before heading off together toward the first tunnel and the first Trial.
A boy in front of me kept wringing his hands together nervously, eyes darting around as if contemplating breaking from the line and running away. He could have. Nothing was tying him to the Oath yet. Ahead of me was a pair with their heads bowed together in low conversation. A woman and a man engaged in what appeared to be a very serious dialogue.
The man tossed his dark hair back and forth as he gestured sharply to enunciate whatever point he was making. Keen green eyes narrowed, and his golden skin shone in the fading daylight as his toned arms flexed beneath the rolled up sleeves of his deep green shirt. He was so obviously from the First Ring I couldn’t help but roll my eyes in irritation that his gods had seen fit to make him so richandso damn hot. The girl beside him was tall and thin with pale skin and sleek black hair that fell straight around her shoulders with a curtain of bangs swooping across her forehead. She wore a scowl as she nodded back at him, intent on hearing his every word.
“They’re from one of the high houses,” someone chirped happily in my ear. I jumped and spun around. Juniper stood behind me. She grinned broadly and clapped me too hard on the back. I winced as she directed my sight back to the pair bent to their murmurs. “I don’t know which one, but it’s one of the major ones. Probably Lynx. I hear they have four candidates this year.”
“How are you, June?” I asked, summoning my best impression of Sophie and trying to suppress my irritation. It wasn’t that I didn’t like her. No one could really say they didn’t like Juniper. She was just someone best avoided if you didn’t have an hour or so for conversation or didn’t want to take in her unfiltered, gossipy, and overly optimistic opinions.
“Not so bad, Adrian. I heard about Darius. That’s tough. I was sorry to hear it. I know Ty got culled too. Absolutely devastated Odette, his mom. It was just him and her, you know. Now she’s all alone. No one’s seen her in days. Seems like she’s just shut herself up in that house. It’s not good for her, if you ask me. She needs to get out more, needs to socialize. But I heard Dahlia made it to the fourth Trial! That’s amazing. I knew she would, though. Her and Cyrus are some kind of dream team. How lucky was she to get paired up with someone from one of the minor houses? And House Valin, at that. I couldn’t believe…”
Juniper kept talking, but I stopped listening. I just stared at her and nodded from time to time.
“…I know we can’t talk about the Trials once we’re bound by this thing, but that doesn’t mean we can’t theorize now. What do you think the first—”
“Your turn,” someone interrupted.
The line had moved significantly since I’d become mired in conversation with June, and I was at the very front now.
“Thank you,” I gasped, glad for an excuse to step away.
