“Oleander,” I growled.
“Pardon me for trying to lighten the mood.” She threw up her hands. “I’m going to find a seat while I still have a head that hasn’t been bitten off.”
“Honestly.” Lullaby gripped my hand tighter as Oleander flounced off. “Are you going to be all right?”
“I don’t know.” I could hear how grim I sounded, so I fought for a note of levity. “Is Arsenault going to hand us both a sword and make us fight to the death?”
“You can do this,” she whispered. “The Oubliettes wouldn’t set you an Ordeal you couldn’t survive.”
I returned her wan smile. But as she walked away after Oleander, I didn’t think either of us believed her words. I stared at her receding back, unwilling—or unable—to face Sunder once more.
“Mirage.” His hand whispered around my wrist. His bittersweet touch was a lure pulling me toward him. He twisted me into the shadows, away from prying eyes, and kissed me—swiftly, fiercely. His lips were flint to my tinder, and I sparked.
“Mirage,” he said again, intent. “You have to forfeit this Ordeal.”
“What?” I pulled away from him. Regret warred with vicious worry on his stark features, and I suddenly wished I could slow time, reel it in like a spool of thread and spin it backward. Stop it, in the moment our lips still touched, so I never had to hear his doubt.
“These Ordeals are dangerous.” He spoke quickly, as though he wanted to get all the words out before I had the chance to interrupt. “They’re cursed, like everything else the Sabourins touch. Forfeit, before Gavin has the chance to win. Or worse—youwin, and become just like them.”
“You know it’s too late for that.”
“It’s not,” he insisted. “Run away with me. We can go anywhere. Belsyre, if you like. Or the Sousine, with Lullaby.Anywhere but here.”
“Sunder—” My voice cracked. “I can’t.”
“Don’t do this.” Desperation clung to the edges of his voice. “I could barely watch the first Ordeal. I fear the second will kill me.”
I would not be his pain.
I drew away, stiff. “Then don’t watch.”
“Please. I’mbeggingyou—”
“Don’t.” I gripped his bicep, flexed through the material of his uniform. “Don’t drag me back into the dusk.”
He stilled at my touch. His harsh regard was a blade tempered from ice, or a diamond forged not from pressure, but from pain. I cringed away from it.
“You have always stood in the light, demoiselle.” He scraped jagged hair off his face and bowed, tightly. “Conquer the dusk and breathe light into shadow. Remind them who you are.”
And then he was gone. I stared after him, tallying my doubts and regretting my words.
“Are you ready?”
I spun. Dowser emerged from the shadows of the Oubliettes, grave and severe.
“I like to think I am. What are you doing here?”
“I’ll be mediating this Ordeal.”
“Good.”
“You know I won’t be able to do anything, if—” He swallowed. “If—”
“Don’t jinx it!” I forced a laugh. I stood on my tiptoes and brushed a kiss against his smooth cheek. “I’ll be fine.”
He smiled at me, but the expression didn’t reach his eyes, which were clogged with dread. I looked away, not wanting to see my own fear reflected onto his face.
Gavin strode out of the shadows, blazing like the Scion. We marched into the main cavern together, and this time the applause was so thunderous my head felt like it might split in half. I chose to believe they were cheering for both of us, but I knew in my heart it was Gavin they loved, Gavin they admired, Gavin they wanted to win. He waved, buoyant with his recent victory, the crown Relic at his belt once more.
