DOWN. Two, three, four.
I swallowed my nerves. I sidled up to the door, so close I could sense its menace, and waited for it to lift.Step.It hissed down behind me, the force of its slamming lifting the hair off my neck.
I ducked beneath the next. Leapt through the third.
But the fourth sent metallic fear to grip my bones. Different from the others, it opened only halfway, then slid down into the floor to bare its other half. I could crouch and roll, and risk being pinioned to the floor, or I could try to jump over the top, and risk being sliced in half. Several times, I readied myself to do one or the other, only to lose my nerve at the last second.
My eyes flitted toward the top of the mountain. Where was Gavin? How much faster than me was he moving?
An idea struck. What if I could wedge the door open? I hefted the blade hanging from my hand. I hated the idea of sacrificing a tool so early in the Ordeal, but I also had to be honest with myself. What good was a sword to me, of all people? Already, my hand cramped around the hilt and its weight dragged at my footsteps. I was frankly astonished I hadn’t cut myself on it yet.
I lifted the sword in a two-handed grip, and waited for the door to slide down. I thrust it into the gap, fitting the blade against the sliding door and the hilt against the frame. The door jerked up. I snatched my hands away. The blade shrieked, bent, and miraculously held. The door shuddered, caged. But not for long. Hurriedly, I clambered through the gap.
The blade snapped with a sound like glass breaking.
The door screamed.
I snatched my foot away. The whisper of swift metal stroked my ankle, too close for comfort.
I stood, relief making my limbs watery. But when I tried to move, I saw the hem of my gown was caught beneath the dristic door, pulling the fabric taut over my legs.
Sunder had been right.
I shouldn’t have worn a dress.
A sudden gleam of memory slapped me—Gavin tearing my favorite gown with his bare hands, me laughing like it was a great joke. I picked up a metal shard from the broken sword and sawed at the gown. It fell away in ribbons, until I stood in nothing but my stockings and bloomers. If only Oleander had made armored leggings to go along with my vest. I took a deep, grounding breath, and climbed to the next level of the mountain.
Each trial was its own flavor of misery. I shivered through a claustrophobic tunnel that inhaled and exhaled with me—when I held my breath in fear, it contracted, squeezing my ribs until I thought I would suffocate. A wall of razored rocks sliced my fingers when I tried to climb. Moving barriers shot mirrored javelins at my head and knees.
Finally, I was high enough to see how far I’d come and how far I still had to go. A flat expanse of tile stretched before me. Beyond rose a steep incline of narrow steps, and above that—nothing.I wiped sweat out of my eyes and allowed myself to hope. That had to be the top. This had to be the end.
Eagerness pushed me onto the tile. I heard the thunder of sharp footfalls. The wail of a sword leaving its scabbard. Bright sharp motion caught my peripheral vision. I ducked as a gleaming blade whistled above me. I slammed to the ground and rolled, panic twisting my vision into spirals. I struggled back up. Looked wildly for the figure who attacked.
Recognition pulsed through me. It was a statue, etched out of gleaming crystal—a soldat from the vast army Lullaby and I had seen before the Ordeals began. But she’dmoved.She’dattacked me.She wasalive.
I stared. Now that I’d stepped off the expanse of tile, the crystal soldat stood perfectly still, sword back in its sheath, gazing in the direction of where I’d been standing.
I tried to think around the fear frothing in my stomach. She’d attacked the moment she’d seen me, but had stood down when I moved outside her direct vision. Carefully, I stepped behind her, steeling myself for her to turn and attack once more. But she did nothing.
I licked my lips, and took careful stock of my surroundings. The tiles were laid out in a grid pattern. Two rows down, another fierce crystalline warrior—this time with a spear on her shoulder—faced me. And another, a few columns to the side of her, facing in a different direction. I counted more, scattered across the tile.
Understanding shuddered through me.
I had to find a safe path around these impossible warriors, without one of them catching sight of me and slaying me on the spot. Nerves twisted around my heart. I looked toward the steep staircase. I could feel how close the Relic was. But I could also feel how close Gavin was. Did I have time to solve this puzzle without sacrificing my last chance at being crowned Sun Heir?
Or did I only have time to do something incredibly stupid?
Nothing worth having was ever given … only taken.
Before I could change my mind, I hurtled onto the board. The first warrior caught sight of me immediately, unsheathing her sword and charging at me. I dashed along the row, praying I wasn’t about to meet a sharp and grisly end. I halted. Two columns down, another soldat powered up at the sight of me, her steps a growing thunder. They barreled toward me. I forced myself to stand my ground.
Three … two …one.
I threw myself into the next row, banging my hip and elbow against the tile floor. The warriors collided with a sound like the world breaking. An explosion of sharp crystals rained around me, flinging pale light and rainbow shards into my eyes. I forced myself to my feet, barely dodging the serrated gauntlet of another automaton.
I ran and dodged and ducked and spun. I led the soldats into each other’s paths with ruthless intent. Each slaughter was a firework of violence and pain. It was a dance of death, and even as the air scored my lungs and crystal splinters sliced my cheeks, its rhythm whetted my bones and put a vicious smile on my face.
Was this what war felt like?
