Finally, there was only one warrior remaining. She blocked the staircase at the end of the mountain. Adrenaline pulsed through my veins, making me invincible.
I could do this.
I bent, retrieving a crystal spear that had survived its owner’s demise intact. It was heavy—so heavy it pulled at my biceps and cranked my elbow. But I just grinned, wrapped my hand around its shaft, and stepped into the last diamond warrior’s path.
Her head snapped up. Her twin swords flew off her back. She plowed toward me.
I planted the spear’s butt on the tile. But both were slick—the javelin slid backward, dragging my arm as its tip dipped. I tried to release it, to step out of the path of the charging soldat, but it was like my hand had melded to the crystal weapon. Terror spangled through me, chasing away my bravado. I stared into her blind eyes, glittering and unfeeling, closer … closer …closer.
Nothing worth having was ever given.
I bit down a scream, planted my foot against the shaft of the spear, and hauled the sharp point up with both hands. The warrior launched herself at me. The blade shrieked against her breastplate, skittering on the surface. It plunged through her throat. Both spearhead and warrior head exploded.
Diamond shards sliced my face and neck. The heavy crystalline body kept careening forward. It caught my side and dragged me down, slamming me against the tile. My shoulder dislocated with a sick wet pop. I screamed. A wave of blackness threatened to carry me away. I bit into my cheek, trying to focus on the sharp metal taste of my own blood. I heaved at the dead weight on top of me and managed to slide out from under it. Blood slicked my fingertips. I stared at my right arm hanging limp and useless at my side.
I choked on a sob, pulled myself into a crouch. The staircase loomed beyond, too steep and too high, lined in shining mirror glass. I was never going to make it.
Nothing worth having …
I gritted my teeth. One-handed, I unbuckled two of the straps on Oleander’s armored vest, and shoved my limp, aching wrist into the gap. I cinched it tight, lashing my bad arm across my chest.
And then I climbed.
Every step was tortured, each step its own mountain. I struggled up the mirrored staircase, and as the panes of reflective glass passed me by, I saw the faces of everyone I’d ever hurt. Horror flared in my chest when I met their accusing eyes, and their whispers followed me up the stairs long after I passed them by.
Luca, with assassination on his breath.An empress’s crown is death and corruption. How could you think you’re any different?
Lullaby, tearstained, her fingers fractured at each knuckle.You left me behind when I needed you the most.
Thibo, broken and empty.You let me go.
Sunder,Sunder. Bloody lines climbed his throat like vines, choking him with pain.The thing that hurts the most isyou.
I closed my eyes, tried to close my ears. This wasn’t real. The Oubliettes were trying to distract me from my end goal, the thing I’d been fighting for—the dristic Relic. Nothing it showed me was true. I slogged upward, one step at a time, the curses of old friends and new enemies ringing false in my ears.
At last, I stood before one final mirror. No, not a mirror—it was a window, its surface reflective enough to see my own face swimming before me, but transparent enough that I could see through it. Out … anddown.
Dismay and sick fear roiled in my stomach. The mountain of obstacles hadn’t led me up to the dais, as I’d thought—it had led me to a cliff above it. I leaned my head against the glass, trying to estimate the drop. Twenty feet, at least. Maybe more. I looked up. A twin cliff stared back at me from across the dais, and Gavin was climbing down it.
No.Horror pushed me away from the glass, and I glimpsed my own reflection. Disheveled hair around a lacerated face. The remnants of a ripped skirt over stained petticoats. A dislocated shoulder shoved haphazardly into shredded armor. I watched my eyes narrow, my mouth harden.
I’d given too much to this Ordeal to watch him win without a fight.
I slammed my fist against the glass, shoved at its boundaries. There had to be a way through—it had to be some kind of door. Frustration boiled within me, and I shouted as I pushed and kicked and—
I am not without strength, mocked a silken voice. I froze. The words were mine, but the voice was not. Scorn dripped from every ringing syllable. Slowly, I returned my gaze to the mirror. It wasn’t my reflection anymore. My ashen lips were red, my dark hair was auburn, my blue eyes were violet.
It was Severine.
I squeezed my eyes shut and pounded a fist against the glass. “This isn’t happening. This isn’t real. This is just an illusion.”
But when I opened my eyes, she was still there.
Tell me, little sister, she purred.Are you pleased to have resurrected this archaic death match? You must have known—it wasn’t designed for runts to win.
“She’s not really there,” I snarled at myself, running my fingertips along the edge of the window, looking for a latch or mechanism to set me free. Outside, I could see Gavin making his painstaking descent down the cliff, his muscles flexing and his armor shining. “Just get through the door before it’s too late.”
You should have let me relieve this burden for you, as I did the others, Severine mused.
