The man before me had undeniably made the world darker, colder, more power-hungry. I wished for a better future, of course. A future where our worth as people didn’t dwell in our magic, where we could live harmoniously asVeridiansinstead of defined by the power in our blood.
But as I watched Emperor Gayl command the entire chamberwith his mere presence, and as I felt that Alchemist power radiating from him and stirring something in my magic, it was difficult not to be impressed.Envious, even. That he could have this control in the palm of his hand, the ability to twist the world to his will and break it apart with a thought.
If Lark was right,thiswas the man who had started the Somnivae curse.Thiswas the man I had to stand against.
My jaw tightened as my hands clenched at my sides. He was the reason Uncle Ragnar was lying in an infirmary. The reason I was forced into this position in the first place. The reason thousands of families were suffering and mourning, that hatred among provinces abounded, that children couldn’t safely cross from one forest to another without fear of an attack.
I met Lark’s gaze as she stepped to the side, and the edge of her lips curled ever so slightly. Resolve pounded in my bones. I’d already agreed to help her, but I think we both realized in that moment that each of us would do whatever it took to bring him down. We were on the same side.
And once this tournament began, there was no turning back.
10
Rose
“Thank you to Miss Everest for her work implementing the Decemvirate this year,” Emperor Gayl began. All eyes instantly locked on him. His voice was the kind of low, quiet strength that demanded you hold your breath and will your heart to pause, if only to hear it linger in the air.
Lark dipped her head in acknowledgement, and he settled his attention over the crowd.
“Every ten years, this empire asks its citizens to prove themselves. To show themselves worthy of power, and to take that which is theirs.” He extended a fist and clenched his hand, which was gloved in thick, black leather. “Six of you have answered the call, and for that, I commend you. But this is only the beginning. These trials are designed to show who among you is greatest, who among you deserves the magic from our land, and what you are willing to do in order to gain it.” He paused, eyes sweeping over the crowd. “I have a feeling this will be a Decemvirate to remember,” he finished softly.
The room was silent, save for the quiet echo of his words. The atmosphere grew thick with challenge. His gaze raked over us one more time before he turned away, his emerald cloak swishing athis heels as he exited the chamber. Two guards followed swiftly. Excited whispers began as soon as the door shut.
“Well, he isexactlyas I thought he would be,” a sultry voice said from a few steps behind me. My hand inched toward my satchel as I twisted to find the same man who’d caught my attention before Lark spoke, the one with wavy blonde hair and a matching beard.
I was immediately on my guard. Anyone that handsome knewexactlywhat they were doing.
His dark blue eyes flecked with silver gleamed as he caught my movement, and hetsked. “Such nimble fingers, darling. Save that for the tournament.”
“Who are you?” I snapped.
“You can call me Nox.”
“Well, Nox. Thanks for the advice.” Stepping around him, I made my way to the nearest refreshment table, eyeing a cream pastry with melted chocolate drizzled on top.
A rough hand littered with glittering rings enveloped my upper arm and pulled me back. Instinctively, I reached for the dagger at my belt and whirled to press the blade against my assailant’s wrist.
“Nimble fingers, remember?” I taunted darkly. The humor on Nox’s face grated on me, making me push a little harder than necessary.
“You’re a viper, aren’t you?” he said with a chuckle. He held his hands in the air in a sign of peace. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
I rolled my eyes and lowered my dagger. “Has anyone ever told you not to go around grabbing strangers?”
“Oh, some of them don’t mind,” he said, his gaze roving over a few of the nearby guests. The ones closest eyed us warily, but within seconds were back to mingling and drinking. I supposed it wasn’t so unusual for two challengers to already be at each other’s throats during the Decemvirate. At least, Iassumedhe was a challenger.
“What province are you?” I asked sharply, tipping my chin at him.
He reached to a table and grabbed a flute of gray liquid. “Drakorum. At your service.”
Drakorum.Shifters. My eyes narrowed, a white hot flash of anger pulsing through me. Before he could take a sip of wine, my hand shot out to grip his arm.
“Did you send your people to attack my family last night?” I hissed.
The confusion was evident on his face—creased brow, parted lips. This close to him, I could tell he wasn’t quite as young as I first thought. Small wrinkles graced the skin around his eyes and forehead. He couldn’t be more than eight years older than me, although his spirit seemed much younger.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he responded. When I only squeezed harder, he lowered his voice, keeping our conversation from drawing more attention. “I swear to you, I know nothing of any attack.”
I searched his face for another moment. The mischievous glint from earlier was replaced by genuine concern. I didn’t know if he was telling the truth, but there wasn’t much I could do about it in this crowded hall. Releasing his arm, I pushed away.
