And for the first time in my life, I had to ask myself: What if the Sisters had beenrightall along? What if dreaming just led to selfishness, and believing in a world only you could see just led to pride?
A soft knock at my door dragged me out of my bitter reverie. Dread dragged sharp fingers through my composure when I remembered my altercation with Sunder last Nocturne. Scion, I didn’t want to believe all the things he’d laid upon me, but an unflinching part of me knew what he’d said was true. I’d lost my vision of that impossible world, and in doing so started using him the same way I’d hated Severine for using him. I’d taken the things he hated most about himself andusedthem.
I stood, squared my shoulders, and marched toward the door, hoping I could manage to apologize for once in my life instead of sounding off at the mouth.
It wasn’t Sunder.
“Dowser?” Surprise made my voice strangely high. My teacher never came to my rooms—he always sent a note, or, more frequently, I had to find him when he lost track of time.
“Do you have a moment?” His hands were tucked deep in the sleeves of his robe and his gaze was grave. Worry unspooled inside me.
“Of course.” I led the way to one of Belsyre Wing’s luxurious sitting areas—this one was tucked behind a flowering terrarium. Weightless birdsong struck a jarring chord against the dirge humming dark between my ribs. “What’s the matter?”
Dowser sighed, heavily. “The first Ordeal is set for three days from now. According to Arsenault, it is customary to begin with Head, then move on to Hand and Heart. Soul would come last, if we had the requisite Relic.”
Head.So, the kembric crown Relic would be the first I had to win. A thrill pulsed through me. I leaned forward.
“What can I expect from the first Ordeal?”
“I don’t know.” Dowser put two fingers to the corners of his eyes. “Arsenault claims he doesn’t know the details, and even if he did, the Ordeals are different for each contestant.”
“How does that work?”
“The magic of the Oubliettes is …” Dowser searched for the right word. “Old. Listen, after yesterday’s Congrès, Barthet and I visited the libraries at Unitas to look for clues about the Ordeals, the Oubliettes, the Heirs—everything. What little we found was disturbing.”
Unease tripped down my spine. “How so?”
“Meridian might have existed,” Dowser said. “But whether he was a god, a king, or a man whose legend outgrew him, no one really knows. His children, the Heirs of the Scion, are equally shrouded in myth—your progenitor, Sébastien Sabourin, included. Were they really children of Meridian? Did they truly inherit these Relics from him? There is little actualhistoryabout your ancestors until just a few hundred tides ago. But the legends tell of a family with arcane,powerfulmagic—magic they would do almost anything to protect.”
I frowned. “I don’t understand.”
“The château that stood where Coeur d’Or stands now—in the lore, it’s referred to as La Citadelle. The texts speak of armies laying siege, hoping to loot its riches, only to find its gates wide open. The soldats who went inside never came out again. There are legends of monsters, of madness, of deathless magic. One author even suggested that the old château was not filled in and built over to make way for a new, bigger palais, but … tohidea place that couldn’t be allowed to exist any longer.”
I made myself laugh. “That sounds like a bedtime story for naughty children.”
“Does it?” Dowser pinned me with canny eyes. “You’re the only person I know who’s been down there.”
I suppressed a shudder against images of bloodstained sunbursts and moonlit diamond armies and the echoing voices of long-dead Heirs.
“As ridiculous as it sounds,” Dowser went on, “Arsenault seemed to think no two Ordeals are the same. That the Oubliettes would tailor each Ordeal to you and Gavin.”
“So?”
“So I want you to know … if you decide to give up, I won’t blame you.”
“What?”
Dowser shook his head. “I know you are proud. I know you never listen, not when you’ve set yourself against something. But my conscience will not be easy unless I tell you—you’ve gone far enough.”
“I thought you believed in my claim to the Amber Throne. I thought you wanted to see me as empress.”
“Your claim is true, Mirage,” Dowser said. “I know better than anyone—you are Sylvain’s daughter, and therefore dauphine and heir. But none of that matters if you’re mad or dead.” Dowser surged to his feet and paced to the wall and back. “These Ordeals are dangerous, Mirage. The first Ordeal is predicated on skills of thehead—intelligence, problem solving, intuition—but the second Ordeal will test the physical. Strength, agility, resilience. You know you are no warrior, child.”
“Not all forms of strength are physical,” I pointed out, my voice chilly. “There is strength in beauty, agility in the mind, resilience in peace. I am not without my own power.”
“I know that.” Dowser sat back down, uneasy. “I just meant that the Oubliettes will test you.”
I thought about Sunder, about Lullaby, about all the ways I’d failed my friends. “Perhaps I deserve to be tested.”
