I gasped against the wave of mixed emotions thundering through me. “I don’t think—”
“The poison on that necklace was hemlock. Powerful, and illegal. Someone’s trying very hard to kill you.” She shrugged. “It’s probably best if I act as a second bodyguard from now on. I’ll taste your food, test your jewelry. That kind of thing.”
I climbed to my feet, my breathing ragged. “Won’t that hurt you?”
“I’m immune.” It was true—already the effects of the poison were nearly indiscernible. Only a faint shadow remained around her eyes. “Hemlock, joie, even alcohol. None of it affects me—it just makes me stronger.”
She turned for the door. I waited until her hand was on the knob before daring to ask the question burning holes in my heart.
“Why?” I managed.
“Why what?”
“Why offer yourself as my bodyguard? Oleander, why would you do that for me?”
She hesitated. When she finally turned, the look she leveled over her shoulder was unfathomable.
“My brother fancies himself in love with you. So I suppose that makes us something like—something like sisters.”
A whiff of her ice-wine perfume trailed her like snowflakes as she swept from the room.
I bathed. Then I wept, until my chest was hollow and my eyelids scratched my eyes. Finally, I slid open Sunder’s door and climbed between sheets that reeked of genévrier and scorched ice. But I found his bed cold and empty as a long-forgotten dusk.
When I eventually found sleep, I dreamed of star-shine soldats in the blurred dusk beyond the violet edge of Midnight. Their eyes were wide with fear and their lips were parted in warning. And each face wasmyface—a reverberation in space, like the sound of a bell in an echoing chamber. And I suddenly knew—knew down to my diamond bones—that I woulddie in this darkness.
The Matin of the second Ordeal came too soon, shrouded in a cold red fog that filled my lungs with bad memories and worse doubts. I dressed and ate quickly, but anxiety made my fine clothes feel like sandpaper against my skin. The tasty fruits and pastries sat like ash in my stomach. So I stole out of Belsyre Wing without anyone seeing me, and made my way to the Oubliettes alone.
After the first Ordeal, the central cavern had reverted to its original appearance—echoing and dark, save for my bloom of illusory light. I lofted the glow, and stared around. Hard to imagine that just a few days ago, it had been incandescent with false sunlight; a playground of kembric puzzles and midnight riddles. Those eerie words stamped heavy on my heart, reminding me of the friends I’d lost, the mistakes I’d made, the monstrous specter of misplaced love I couldn’t bear to look at.
I paced that room. I paced its still, silent floor as though it might give me a hint, a clue as to what I was about to face. What ordeal I was soon to live through. Because if Gavin was right about one thing, I knew it was this:
This Ordeal would be unlike anything I’d faced before. And I was frightened.
But the Oubliettes remained stubbornly silent, and if there was a Scion, he had little interest in my prayers.
I paced until the crowds began to file in, laughing and shouting and drinking and gambling. I lingered near the entrance, hoping and dreading that each footfall would bring Gavin and Arsenault and the moment of my apprehension that much closer.
My friends found me first.
“I told you she’d be down here,” Oleander snapped at Lullaby. Brusquely, she adjusted the straps of the armored shirt she’d made me. This time, I had a feeling I might need it.
“I applaud your ability to predict her every movement,” Lullaby hissed at the towering blond, before putting a soothing hand over mine. “I’m sure you’re going to do great.”
I glanced away from their bickering to see Sunder examining me from the shadows. Heat burst along the column of my neck. Had he been sober enough to remember what he’d said to me the other Nocturne? “What?”
“You’re wearing a dress.” Disapproval was written on his face.
I was—it was one of Oleander’s gowns, a silk manteau rippling with sky-lit colors: amethyst and topaz glittering against a sapphire twilight. Let Gavin play out his Sun Heir spectacle. With my ultramarine armored jacket, I was just as striking as the Duskland Dauphine.
“Would you rather she go in her underthings?” Oleander made a face like she’d forgotten who she was talking to. “Never mind.”
Sunder flushed dark. “I meant, wouldn’t trousers be more appropriate for the physical Ordeal?”
“Why does everyone assume the Hand Ordeal is physical?” I snarled. “There are other kinds of strength, you know. And I’m perfectly capable of moving in a dress.”
“Preach,” said Lullaby.
“And if she’s anything like me, she can also run in heels.” Oleander quirked an eyebrow. “On second thought, that probably means she can’t.”
