I rose half out of my seat and spun to face the voice, the rest of the courtiers turning with me. Shock spiraled through me when I saw it was Gavin’s taciturn and haggard godfather.
“Arsenault!” Gavin snapped, anger suffusing his features. Since our confrontation before the Concordat, I noticed Gavin looked slightly less …splendid. He pushed dusty hair out of wan eyes and glared at his godfather.
“It’s fine, Gavin.” Félix Arsenault stepped forward, stiff and wary, as though he wasn’t used to speaking in front of crowds. “The only requirement for the Ordeals is that there be at least as many Relics as Sabourin-blooded heirs. The magic will decide the rest.”
The mention of Sabourin heirs pulled my hands into fists and hammered unexpected guilt through me. Severine was in no position to compete, and yet—had things been different, these would have been her generation’s Ordeals.Ourgeneration’s Ordeals.
“I’m sorry, monsieur,” Barthet said reasonably. “But how in the daylight world do you know?”
Arsenault looked sidelong at Gavin, who sighed and stood. His eyes fell on me.
“Last week you asked how our fathers’ close friendship ended,” Gavin began. “This is how—the Ordeals of the Sun Heir tore their amity apart and burned their brotherhood to ash. The light of the Scion is blinding and unflinching—it does not distinguish between idle games and mortal conflict.”
“They were playing,” I breathed. Triumph burst hot in my chest.I knew it. “Your father and mine—Sylvain Sabourin and Xavier d’Ars.”
“And a third cousin of the blood—Remy Legarde,” Arsenault rasped.
“How do you fit into all of this?” Lady Marta was skeptical.
Again, a glance passed between Gavin and Arsenault. I narrowed my eyes. I remembered how they’d tried to pass talk of an Aifiri general off as idle chatter about estates and stewards. I didn’t trust either one of them, especially now I’d set myself explicitly against Gavin.
“In Aifiri culture,” Gavin slowly explained, “it is customary for young men and women of high birth to take a kind of platonic mate, usually of the same gender—a friend, a comrade, a confidant, although none of those words fully embody the concept.”
Across the room, Marta Iole’s eyes went deep and wistful. Arsenault’s mouth worked.
“Félix was my father’s partner. When Sylvain invited Xavier d’Ars to court, my godfather went with him.” Gavin looked grim. “Apparently the Ordeals had beendiscouragedsince around the time of the Conquest. There was a massive scandal between the heirs at the time—the matriarch of my family line, and your grandfather several times over. Although it was hushed up, the event had ripples, and the Ordeals were more or less banned in favor of traditional parent-to-child succession.”
“But Sylvain got it into his head to revive the Ordeals, and convinced Xavier and Remy to join,” Arsenault grated out, impatient. “They were five and seven tides younger than him, respectively. They had no idea what they were getting into. Sylvain easily won, although not without cost. Xavier was banished from the Amber Court for life. Remy—well, Remy Legarde has been dead for nearly forty tides.”
The words jolted through me, casting shadows across my heart.Dead?
“You said something about imprinting.” Dowser’s scholarly curiosity made his tone eager. “Do the heirs bond with Relics in their possession?”
“The reverse, I believe,” Arsenault corrected him. “Xavier used to say his Relic fed off him, like a parasite does a host. Feeding on his power, his life force, the magic in his Sabourin blood. He felt it left a kind ofsignatureupon his psyche.”
The heat of the ambric pendant against my chest felt suddenly invasive, instead of comforting. I pushed away the idea that it was marking my thoughts and prompting my actions.No.I was in control—of my life, of my ambitions, ofeverything.Including this narrative that seemed like it was being twisted to suit an angle. Whose angle, and for what reason? I didn’t know.
Yet.
“If Sylvain won his generation’s Ordeals,” I said slowly, “then why, Gavin, do you have the kembric Relic?”
“When Remy died, my father realized the Ordeals were much more than a game.” Gavin’s cracked-agate eyes narrowed. “He felt that Sylvain had tricked him—challenged him to the Ordeals under false pretenses. When he refused to give up his Relic, Sylvain turned on Xavier—his best friend. Hisbrother. Papa fled back to Aifir with the Relic, an exile from a court and a family he’d never truly belonged to.”
“And when he died, he passed the Relic to you,” I guessed.
“Yes,” Gavin growled. “But Papa never intended for the Ordeals to resume. Hehatedyour father for what he’d made him do, what he’d put him through, and all of it for nothing more than an archaic charade of royal succession. He gave me the Relic as a reminder that all power corrupts.”
“And yet, here you are at Coeur d’Or, undermining my legitimacy and parading yourself around as the true Sun Heir!”
“I never said that!” Gavin cried.
“You didn’t have to,” I snarled. “You accused me of murder, incited a riot, tricked them into hating me!”
He flinched. “I didn’t need totrickthem.”
“Enough!” Dowser’s voice boomed around the Congrès, shocking us both into silence. He rubbed a hand over his smooth brown head, then turned briskly to Arsenault. “All of this is to say, Mirage’s challenge stands? The Ordeals may go forward with two Relics and two heirs of Sabourin blood?”
Arsenault stood still and quiet, as though he was thinking hard about some great silent thing he’d thought about many times before. Then he flipped a hand over his head and drew out a blade from a sheath concealed beneath the billowing red coat. I jerked back, and my council shied with me, but Arsenault just laid the sword gently at the center of the table and gazed at it with a level of warmth I’d never seen in his face before. I barely glanced at the blade before I knew what it was—the dristic Relic, representinghand, or physical strength.
