“Advisors step back. You may not assist your champions.”
They’re talking to all the advisors, which means it’s not just me that’s been affected by what we just drank from the silver goblet. Whatever was in that drink has left me light-headed and woozy.
I find my seat and the world stops swimming as soon as I sit down, but that’s not going to help me because I still can’t see what’s inside the cups to know how to choose.Curses.
I rest my chin on the table and peer hard at each goblet. From the brief glimpse I had from the top, the two objects were both circular, but different, so I can’t simply choose between left and right. I need to know what’s inside the cups and I can’t tilt them toward me because that would mean lifting them.
I remember the speech I gave Jasper on the mountain when I thought he was belittling me. I’d told him not to make the mistake of thinking I was fragile. Which means I have to stand up and work through the pain. Baelen and Jasper would too.
Gripping the table, I brace myself against the oncoming dizziness. I see inside only one of the cups before the world spins so hard I have to sit down again. It was a coin.
I brace and go again. This time the nausea is worse and I barely make it up far enough to glimpse the second cup’s contents: a miniature rose.
I thud back into my chair, closing my eyes and waiting for the world to stop spinning. A choice between a rose or a coin is a choice between beauty or wealth. Two vices that could define an elf’s motivations.
Unless… the rose isn’t a symbol of beauty but of something more personal. Jasper told me that his sister made roses from silk. On top of that, Baelen was the only one who came from a major House and enjoyed the benefits of wealth—yet he’d turned his back on it to disappear for three years.
I drink from the cup with the rose in it and once again, the sugary syrup lines my mouth. I swallow as little as I can this time and wait for the chime.
Once again, there’s silence.
Osian Valor claps his hands.
Two new cups appear. My vision blurs as I try to focus on them, but the distinction is clear enough I don’t need to examine them that carefully: one is large and one is small. I swallow a laugh and reach for the small one. Maybe it’s not a reference to my height—I’m sure there must be some deeper meaning, like the large cup representing gluttony or something like that—but the small one is the one for me.
I take the smallest sip and the Elven Command is definitely not happy. But neither is my head. Up might be down for all I know right now. After drinking from that cup, the table warps at the edges and the figures of the Elven Command bend and sway in the distance like grass in a gentle breeze. Osian Valor’s head looks like a fleshy blob on his shoulders and his robe appears to melt into the floor. Whatever, they’re giving us to drink, it’s definitely messing with my head.
Two more cups later, Osian Valor claps his hands and the sound thuds through my head like drums. I swear, if that male claps his hands one more time… I’d like to believe I’d leap up and make him stop, but actually, probably what I’ll do is hurl. Every sound, even the quiet scuffle of feet, thrums through my head like a sledgehammer.
As two new cups appear, I can barely focus.
I slide from my chair, resting my chin on the table to try to see what’s in front of me. If this is how Baelen felt at the compatibility test, it’s no wonder he needed help finding the door. I squeeze my eyes shut, open them, and give everything to the effort to focus.
Each of these new cups has an image engraved on it, but both engravings are faint, fine, and hard to see.
As I focus on the one on the right, the image lifts off the surface of the cup, coming alive. It’s a rope, twisting and twirling. No, not a rope, something more elegant, more precious. It’s a ribbon, swirling loose in the air, floating away before I can catch it. It’s a blue ribbon stolen by the wind.
I reach for that cup, dragging it from the table as I slide to the floor. I take a sip before I hit the ground, lying on my side, shutting my eyes and hugging the cup close, not caring that the liquid makes a puddle on the floor beside me.
The bell chimes.
My eyes shoot open. The chime means someone chose differently, but… who?
I refocus on the cup I’m holding.
Oh, no…It’s not a ribbon. It’s a… fish hook?
I drag myself upright, clinging to the table, focusing on the other cup before Osian Valor can clap his hands and make it disappear. The other goblet is etched with three wavy lines curling at the end like waves in the sea or… no, it’s a representation of wind in the clouds. I drop my head into my hands. The other cup had a symbol of the storm. Baelen and Jasper would have chosen that one because it represents me.
I chose the wrong one.
I’m eliminated.
I’m out of the trials.
