“And if it’s a test you can only fail?”
“Then everything will be a lot more clear, won’t it?”
“This isn’t a joke, Mirage.”
“Sorry.” I put a hand on his arm, and tried to articulate all the thoughts that had plagued me since my fight with Sunder. “I just meant, I’m not afraid of what’s going to happen. I asked for this—in a way, it’s the first thing I’ve done right in a long time. I’ve made too many wrong decisions lately. I don’t know if I’m the true Sun Heir or not, but I’m tired of arguing about it. Maybe it’s right to let the magic of the Relics decide.”
“What do you mean?”
“When I first came to the palais,” I began, “I believed I was owed something. I believed the accident of my birth meant I deserved a place in this glittering world. And when that dream turned into a nightmare, I blamed everyone else, never considering that perhaps I was the one at fault. But I finally feel like I have a path towardearningwhat I was born to do. I don’t want it given to me. I want to work for it. I want to be tested. It will make the winning all the sweeter.”
“Spoken like a true Sabourin.” Dowser folded me into a brief, gruff hug. I inhaled the aggressive perfume of tabak smoke and old leather; ink-splattered robes and too much worry. He stood, wiping at his brow and heading for the door. “Prepare yourself, Mirage. I have a feeling the next few days are going to get complicated.”
I watched him go, then slowly pulled my ambric Relic from the bodice of my dress. Its familiar planes glowed skin-warm and sun-hot, and I stared at it for a long, curious moment. Much as I’d tried to think of it as I always had—as a slightly ugly antique with mysterious origins—I’d begun to attribute thoughts,intentionsto the hunk of ambric. Did it want me to face Gavin in the Ordeals? Did it want me to reunite it with its fellow Relics and win my place as Sun Heir? Or was it simply a tool, a vessel—for unknown magic, for power untold?
I slipped it back into my dress. I didn’t think the next few days were going to be complicated at all.
Beat Gavin in the Ordeals. Win the Relics. Earn my place as Sun Heir.
Or walk away from this world—thisimpossibledream—forever.
The day of the first Ordeal arrived with a glossy, effervescent sort of calm.
I posted myself beside an arching window looking out over the rear courtyard of the palais, to watch the crowds file in through the dungeons, stamping careless feet down new-built ladders and through artificially braced doors. Dowser told me they’d held a lottery throughout the city for the limited space in the Oubliettes—apparently there’d been so many entries, Sunder’s already overtaxed wolves had had to wheel them up to the palais in wagons. The official list had been posted yesterday, and now what looked like hundreds of people filed in through the Échelles gate, of all ages, genders, skin colors, and styles of clothing.
“The first—and last—time any of us will ever see so many people willingly walking into a dungeon,” lilted a high, sophisticated voice.
I turned to see Oleander, Lullaby, and Sunder lingering near the door. I gaped, for a moment—I thought it was also the first and last time I’d see these three willingly spending time with one another.
“You found me.” I sounded a little breathless.
“How are you feeling?” Lullaby asked.
“Strange,” I admitted.
“So, normal,” Oleander said, without inflection.
I laughed. Something giddy was rising up inside me—pale effortless wings lifting me toward an inevitable hour. Sunder’s cool-burn eyes touched my face, but I forced myself not to look at him. We hadn’t spoken privately since our fight. His brusque, businesslike demeanor and cold haughty mask made me think we never would.
I tried not to think too hard about how that made me feel.
“I brought you this.” Oleander stepped forward and held out a top of some kind. “It’s armor.”
“Sort ofarmor,” Sunder clarified.
“Sort ofarmor,” Oleander agreed, with a roll of her eyes. “Belsyre women all learn weaponry, but I could never stand that horrid dristic chain mail the Loup-Garou wear under their uniforms. It chafed my skin and hid my lovely figure. So I designed this.”
I ran my fingers over the long-sleeved jacket. It was tooled in rigid leather the color of midnight. It didn’t look like any armor I’d ever seen.
“The first Ordeal is kembric—Head.I’m not sure I need—”
“Wear it,” Lullaby commanded. Sunder inclined his bright head in agreement.
“Fine,” I grumbled, and Oleander helped me into it. It was surprisingly soft and light, with snug sleeves and a tapered cut.
“It’s reinforced throughout.” Oleander fastened a series of straps across my bust and waist. “But it’s lightweight enough to move in. See?”
Swiftly, she punched me in the gut. Reflexively, I doubled over, but it took me only a moment to realize I wasn’t in any pain. I’d felt the impact of her fist, but distantly—diffuse.
