There was no fanfare this time, no flourishing speech about the trials or summary of each challengers’ courageous acts. Lark simply raised her hand and conjured her shadows, speaking each name in a carefully controlled tone.
“The first challenger to pass the second trial was Nox Duma of Drakorum.” His name appeared in black wisps like ink, but there was no applause. The hall stayed silent, still wrapped in the heaviness of the evening. “Next was Rose Wolff of Feywood.”
I felt nothing at the sound of my name. No spark of pride or excitement. I just wanted it to be over.
In quick succession, shadows formed Callum’s name, then Arowyn’s, and finally, Alaric’s. There was a poignant pause when Callista’s name should have appeared last.
“After the completion of both trials, the rankings have beencombined and averaged as follows.” Slowly, the names written in shadow rearranged themselves, forming a new list.
Arowyn was still in first, her lead after the first trial enough to give her an edge even when coming in fourth this time. Callum was next. And then Nox, Alaric, and I all tied for third.
Whispers of interest swept the hall. Three of us in the same position.
I glanced at Nox, who gave me a grim smile. There was no such thing as a tie in the Decemvirate. The third and final trial always broke them, and it usually wasn’t a pleasant break.
It was a good thing we still had over two weeks to prepare. Two weeks for me to put the tournament out of my mind and focus on my other purpose: getting close to Gayl. I wasn’t sure which I was more frightened of.
As we stood to exit, voices picked back up, the solemnity of the memorial cracking. I turned toward the entrance doors and stopped.
Swishing at the floor was a familiar long, emerald cloak, the end of it barely visible as the figure strode out of the hall, his dark, shoulder-length hair fluttering when he disappeared from sight.
46
Rose
I’m ready.
My hand shook as I wrote the two little words on the back of the parchment Gayl had sent the evening of the challenger’s feast.
Conflicting emotions warred within me. Wrath at him for what he’d put me through, yearning for more of my father’s past, curiosity about the magic he’d learned. And in the mix of it all, guilt. Both for the secrets I was harboring, even if it was to keep Leo safe, and for my own desires. No matter how much I ignored it, part of mewantedthese meetings with Gayl. As much as I despised the man, he represented a piece I’d been missing for twenty years. He possessed a magic that drew me in, that sang to the darkest parts of my soul. A magic that said “you’re not alone.”
Within seconds of setting the paper on my bed, it burst into flames and vanished. I gasped and jolted backward, barely having time to recover before a second note appeared in thin air, the ends smoking. I caught it and winced at the slight heat. Gayl’s response was penned in black, the ink still wet.
Meet me where you once found me in half an hour. Our blood reveals the entrance.
-T.G.
Nervous anticipation wound around my gut as I waited a few minutes, then collected my dagger, pouch of herbs, and hand drawn map of the palace. Horace was instantly at my side when I stepped out the door, but I held up a hand to stop him from following me.
“I need to do this alone, Horace.”
I could tell it went against his very nature to acquiesce and watch me head off toward uncertain danger, but he knew this was Rissa’s request. It was for the Sentinels.
That’s what I told myself, anyway.
The journey down two flights and to the northern end was quick and quiet. Hardly anyone loitered in the corridors, as most people were likely eating dinner or in bed at this hour.
I came upon the familiar hallway, and to my surprise, the usual slew of guards was nowhere to be found. Striding to the end and standing before the same wall as before, I examined my surroundings, first feeling along the edges of the two lit sconces, then kneeling and swiping a hand at the bottom of the stone wall. Nothing was out of the ordinary. No mechanism that triggered the opening of a door, no hole or button or switch. The only thing left was the painting of the fountain in the center.
I crossed my arms and stared at it, willing it to show me the answer. With a sigh, I ran a finger along the golden frame and the outline of the garden surrounding the fountain, gliding my thumb across the pool of crystalline, blue water.
A sharp sting sliced through the pad of my thumb. Jerking my hand back, I saw a bead of blood blooming at the tip and stuck it in my mouth to soothe the ache. When I looked back up at the portrait, my eyes widened.
From the center, dark red oozed over the blue, turning thewater in the fountain the color of my blood. The ripples and whorls deepened, trickling over the side of the fountain. I watched in half amazement, half disgust as the blood bubbled down the painting and began to shimmer. Not just the blood—the entire portrait was flickering, like some sort of mirage.
When I blinked, a door stood in its place.
It opened soundlessly when I pulled on the handle. Before me stood the same narrow, cold corridor I’d encountered the first time. The hallway seemed to extend forever, with closed doors lining the sides and only a handful of dimly lit sconces gracing the stone walls. Slowly, I made my way to the door in the center, the one I’d seen Gayl stop at the day he caught me spying.
