I was rewarded for my cheek by a dark chuckle at my back. I couldn’t help my grin as I whirled.
“Night you two,” I crooned and breezed away, my shadow trailing after me, silent and imposing as always.
For once, I was grateful for Dante following me.
Chapter Nine
“Madness. Dark, spiraling madness. I can say no more.”
-Tiberius, Hero of House Lynx, on the Second Trial; 467 Genesis Age
Cosmo and Myrine had decided Dante and I shouldn’t wait to begin our next Trial. I’d argued that I needed more time to train, but Myrine had poignantly pointed out that I didn’t even know what I was trainingfor. She also reminded us we only had four years to complete the Trials, and the later levels would likely take far more preparation, so it was senseless to waste valuable weeks preparing for the second.
When I’d complained to Dante about just how unprepared I felt, he explained the true reason for his family pushing us: they saw no reason to dedicate any more time to our training than was strictly necessary.
They didn’t believe we’d make it.
But their utter lack of faith, their expectation of failure, had become our primary motivation.
Dante and I spoke little, and not about anything outside of the Trials, but we trained constantly. When everyone else wasasleep, we sparred in the yard. When everyone else took a break, we lifted stones in the garden and tossed them back and forth to build muscle. We ate as quickly as we could and excused ourselves to our studies.
I’d also memorized the path to Bria’s room in the estate and called upon her far more often than I should have. But she never complained. I was only learning the basics of reading so far, but Bria had given me passages of the Journal to memorize, and I spent every moment in which I wasn’t actively training repeating the words in my mind, trying to discern some sort of meaning behind them besides the obvious.
Sanctuary was a gift from the Geist, a gift of mercy…
The Trials are a hardship that must be faced, a challenge to prove oneself worthy of the gods…
The miracle of our creation is not for our minds to comprehend, nor is it for us to discern…
I still didn’t believe in the gods. At least, nowhere near as fervently as Bria or Prima, but I could see the comfort they found in their religion, and I admired the people it’d led them to become. Instead, I was starting to believe something else, though I would never say it aloud to Bria: from where I stood, it appeared as though the Geist of Prima’s time had abandoned us long ago.
I muttered another journal passage like an incantation as Dante and I descended the steps at the familiar eastern gate. The tunnel for the second Trial wasn’t open yet, though a few pairs lingered nearby, heads bent in conversation about what was to come, practically bouncing on their toes with eagerness. I examined them as we passed.
Most of them seemed to be from the Upper Rings. All the Lynx candidates dressed in their house color, as they always did. Those from Avus were more difficult to pinpoint, but the way they held themselves, heads high, eyes forward in concentration,still told me they were from the First Ring. The House Viper candidates all stood with arms crossed, quiet and brooding.
The chattiest of the group were the Second Ringers. They seemed the most eager as well. There were a few Third Ringers I didn’t recognize but could identify by the shabby clothing and anxious excitement in their expressions. There was even a Decker standing beside their Third Ring partner, eyes downcast and pants torn well above the ankle.
I turned toward Dante. Why were so many others taking the Second Trial today too? Was there something about the timing I didn’t know about? Was there more to this occasion than Cosmo or Myrine had mentioned when pushing us to compete today? But Dante, it seemed, wasn’t in any mood to converse. He left me the moment we descended onto the Deck.
My family gathered near the bottom of the stairs, huddled together and smiling.
“What are you guys doing here?” I asked, surprised. I hadn’t told them we would be attempting the second Trial today.
“We came to support you, of course!” my mother practically squealed. She rushed forward and gathered me in her arms. The familiar aroma of flour and dirt clinging to her brought an odd sense of calm, but I pushed that nostalgic ache aside as we separated.
Most families didn’t come to the Trials. They simply waited at home to hear how it all turned out. The looks I received from the other waiting candidates told me enough about what they thought of a grown woman still relying on the support of her family. Still, it was kind of them to come.
“Well, you and Dahl,” Warren added. He jerked his head toward a couple standing nearby. Cyrus gave me a bright smile as Dahlia separated from him and approached.
“Adrian,” she said curtly. It wasn’t anger in her tone, nor was it sorrow. It was something much worse. Apathy.
“Dahlia,” I replied. I tried to keep my tone light and cheery but looking into those familiar sapphire eyes made it painful. A weight settled onto my chest, making it hard to breathe. “I didn’t know you were competing today.”
She nodded.
“Number four,” she said, even though I knew. Everyone knew.
“How are you—”
