“Rothy. Call me Rothy.” I nodded my thanks as she led me out the back door and to a little paddock fence where two horses grazed. I checked my map and mounted the white and brown speckled mare, which Rothy called Colette, adjusting to her tall frame and grabbing the reins.
I took off through the opening of the fence, barely hearing Rothy call out behind me, “Oh, and don’t get too close to that potion when you use it!”
Tucking the vial into one of my pockets, I snapped the reins and followed my gut to the west.
20
Rose
Irode hard out of the central sector, passing lively villages and crowded streets until I entered the less populated, more forested west sector. Lush trees lined the path, the rushing sound of the nearby Scarre River reaching my ears. I looked back over my shoulder a handful of times to see the tips of the tall, circular palace spires shrinking in the distance. Slowing Colette so I could check the map and be sure I was still heading in the right direction to the memorial, we eventually crossed a wide bridge across the Scarre River, my destination and hope growing closer with every step.
After another five minutes, the smooth stone path became interrupted with large thickets, the leaping waters of the river now muffled by the grassy undergrowth and copse of trees surrounding me. If I didn’t have the ticking clock of this trial hanging over my head, it would be peaceful. Quiet. Only the sound of wind whistling through leaves and Colette’s hooves tromping through kept me company.
Until—
A few yards behind me, another pair of hooves clicked over stone.
My head snapped around, Colette veering slightly to the right at the motion.
And just like at the mausoleum, there was nothing there.
I sighed in frustration, turning Colette back to the main path. “Fates, Rose, get your?—”
Colette reared up, causing my words to catch in my throat as she almost threw me off her back. In the middle of the road, mere feet from her nose, was an enormous dark gray stallion.
With a smirking Callum perched atop.
“Fancy meeting you here, Feywood.”
I cursed. “What are you doing? Are youfollowingme?”
“I don’t need to follow you. I have eyes and ears everywhere,” he said smugly. “Spend a year preparing for this tournament, and you make some friends. But you wouldn’t know that, would you?”
Anger burned in my core. His ego was so large, I wasn’t sure how his head didn’t blow clean off his shoulders. People like him who got off on making others feel inferior made me want to lash out irrationally.
I acted as if I was tightening my hold on the reins as I reached for my pouch of herbs. “Be careful, Callum. If you get too distracted, you won’t be able to hold onto Iluze’s precious champion title.” Nudging Colette with my thighs, we trotted forward. “Now get out of my way.”
He drifted even closer, as I knew he would. Before he had time to respond, the henbane was on my tongue and I whispered a hurried, “Phyxie.”
But instead of gasping desperately for air as all the breath escaped his lungs, Callum’s smirk widened. His form rippled like waves on water.
A wicked laugh came from behind me. “Neat trick,” he said as I whirled to face him. “But I won’t fall for that again.”
I flashed him a smile, the faint licorice taste of the angelica I’d grabbed mixing with the acrid one of henbane still on my lips. “Didn’t expect you to.Incendar.”
This time, he wasn’t prepared.
Flames burst at his wrist, quickly encasing his arm. He cried out in alarm and leapt from his horse, crashing to the ground. I watched with a sneer as he rolled on the grass to try and quell the blaze.
My energy was waning again. I could feel it, like a cavity in my chest hollowing out. I’d used more magic today than normal, but glaring down at him at the feet of my horse, I couldn’t find it in me to care.
It was like the fire was a part of me. It licked at his clothes, his skin, tasting him and spitting him out like ash. His cries and heaving breaths against the smoke were music to my ears, a sweet melody of retribution.
Dismounting, I stalked toward him, not entirely sure what I was doing. When I blinked, I saw another image of a different man lying before a fireplace covered in blood. Panic clawed up my throat before I shook the memory away.
Illusionists. Callum was the same as the people who murdered my father. I’d never see those two men again, but the one before me…he would do just fine.
“Feywood—please—” Callum choked, still thrashing at the flames that couldn’t be quenched. It spread to his legs, burning away the fabric and revealing dark skin beneath.
