The gargoyle inhales sharply, the growl returning to his voice. “It’s less dangerous than my home. Crossing the border is the only way to keep my daughter safe. The threat of elves is nothing compared to…”
His head snaps up. He spins to the mouth of the cave, nostrils flaring. “An elf comes. I will kill him.”
“No, don’t. I’ll make him go away. Stay here.”
I race to the entrance, seeking the source of movement. I strain to hear anything, impressed by the gargoyle’s senses. It must have heard me traipsing through the snow for ages before I arrived.
A figure appears at the far end of the clearing holding a lamp—the opposite side to the one I arrived through. I half turn back to the gargoyle, lifting my hand. I’m not exactly sure what I’m gesturing. Definitely to stay put. Possibly goodbye. I’m not ready to leave, but it might be the only way to draw the elf away.
I take a deep breath and stride forward, leaving the cave behind, closing the distance to the newcomer as quickly as I can. “Identify yourself.”
He pauses and holds the lamp up to reveal his face. “It’s Jasper Grace, Princess. Forgive me, I didn’t mean to startle you.”
I retort. “You’ll have to ask the Elven Command for forgiveness. We aren’t meant to cross paths.”
He drops his eyes, but lifts them again. “Possibly Princess, but I follow Commander Rath first and the Elven Command second.”
I frown and advance on him. “You do, huh? And what did Commander Rath tell you?”
“Not to let you out of my sight. I’ve failed that task for the last two hours. I won’t fail again.”
I glance backward, sensing the air shift. The gargoyle won’t tolerate the male elf’s presence any longer.
“Well, now you’ve found me. I’ve lost my lamp, so you’ll have to lead the way. Let’s go.” I stride toward Jasper, deliberately lifting my arms, making myself wide, to force him to turn back the way he came. He backpedals to avoid touching me, spins, and strides along the path, glancing back to make sure I’m following him.
I shouldn’t look back to the cave but I can’t help it. The Elyria webs are invisible again because of the lamp’s light but I imagine I can see the gargoyle’s silhouette against the far stone, quickly disappearing from view as I push forward. I rub my shoulder where he touched me. I have to shake it off. “Where are the other elves?”
“They’re all further ahead than us. We have a lot of catching up to do.”
Relief floods me that the gargoyles are safe. Now I can focus on beating this trial.
As we follow the pathway between rocks, Jasper continues. “The night will determine who makes it to the peak tomorrow. Anyone who sleeps will lose.”
I hear all the questions in his voice: am I tired? Will I need to rest? How much will I slow him down?
Half the champions are only here to prove a point—to rank themselves against each other: to score points, especially those from minor Houses. The other half want the prestige that comes from sharing the power of the storm. Only a handful are actually interested in me. Or perhaps… there’s only one who is truly interested in me.
I grit my teeth against the annoyance and distrust that rises inside me as I follow Jasper along the rocky pathway. If it wasn’t for his actions earlier and Bae’s signal to him, I wouldn’t even believe him right now.
I snap, “Commander Rath may have asked you to look out for me, but that doesn’t mean he thinks I’m fragile. Don’t make that mistake, Jasper Grace.”
We come to a crossroads between pathways. Jasper holds the lamp high, studying each path before he turns to me. His jaw is set, his eyebrows drawn down. He doesn’t wear fine-spun clothing like I do—his jacket is knitted and his pants and boots are standard issue. It strikes me that he must be cold but he hasn’t said anything about it.
Without warning, he kills the light in his lantern, leaving us in darkness. A bright spot remains in my vision. I can’t see, but his voice suddenly consumes my senses.
“I know exactly who you are, Marbella Mercy. You come from the same place I do. Scrubbing floors for the major Houses. Mucking out stables, feeding their pigs, taking the brunt of their bad tempers and wayward whips. We’re supposed to accept it because we’re full ofmercy, full ofgrace. There are many stories about the night you became the Princess, but there’s only one that I believe.”
I wait for him to tell me which story it is, but he doesn’t. As my eyes adjust, his silhouette becomes clear against the moonlight. He stands taller in the dark, shoulders back, feet planted firmly despite the uneven ground. Somehow, he’s transformed by the absence of light.
He points, his arm steady. “This is the way, but we need to run. We can’t rely on the lamp, only on our senses. There are predators in the rocks and trees, and ice will settle on us before the sun rises. We have to make it over this peak, through the valley, and then up again. Are you with me?”
I swallow my surprise. “I’m with you.”
