As if he could read my thoughts, he suddenly smiled. Chills cascaded across my skin.
There was something so…familiarin that smile.
“Congratulations to our six challengers for successfully completing the first trial.” Applause went around the hall at Lark’s words.Horace nudged my shoulder, and I finally ripped my eyes away from Gayl, bringing my hands together in a lackluster attempt at celebration.
“In a moment, we will reveal the current standings of the tournament. After today our challengers will have six days of rest before the second trial begins.” Lark brushed a mass of black curls away from her face. Her loose hair sprung around her face in tight coils, free of its thick plaits. “The evening before the second trial, Emperor Gayl and I would like to invite all of the challengers to a feast in honor of finishing the first task. You will receive more information later. And yes, Arowyn”—Lark shot a knowing look to the white-haired figure with her arms crossed—”itismandatory.”
Lark clapped her hands. “And now, for the rankings.” Shadows appeared in her palms, tendrils of darkness rising and twisting through the air. The candlelight in the hall flared brightly as her power formed above our heads. Positioned directly in front of Lark were two women and one man, each with their heads buried in pieces of parchment. Their fingers flew as they scribed every word the head architect said, readying to deliver the news of the first trial far and wide.
“Each challenger was tasked with locating and retrieving an artifact related to their magic. They were required to solve a riddle leading them to a position in Veridia City, where they faced obstacles along the way. The first person to find their artifact and return to the palace before the stroke of midnight was Arowyn Garrolas of Celestria.” Shadows formed Arowyn’s name in thin letters, hanging in midair. “Arowyn located the golden key, a symbol of knowledge and success in her province of Celestria, in the mountains of the north sector. Congratulations to Arowyn for her excellent use of magic and intellect in the face of fear.” A round of applause sounded at the sight.
For some reason, this surprised me. I’d anticipated Callum being in first, given how confident he acted when we fought. I snuck a glance at Arowyn, who appeared as bored as ever. The onlyindication she was paying attention was the way her shrewd eyes scanned over the crowd.
“In second place, who expertly uncovered the Cloak of Shadows in the ancient ruins where our capital’s jewel mines once stood, is Alaric Rinehart of Tenebra.” New shadows appeared below Arowyn’s name, spelling out the Shadow Wielder’s. The spectators clapped, some of the members of the Royal Guard patting Alaric on the shoulder. He raised his hand in a polite wave and nodded in thanks. I took a deep breath and let it out slowly, my exhale transforming into a growl at the end. Alaric caught my eyes and smiled feebly.
At least he had the sense to look ashamed for what he did to me.
“Next, the third challenger to complete his task was Callum Orlox of Iluze. The Illusionist found the gilded mirror, which appears on the crest of Iluze, hidden in the great Veridia Theater.”
I rolled my eyes at the smug expression on Callum’s face as his name appeared in shadows. Hatred surged inside of me when he raised his eyebrow at me in challenge, flicking the metal piercing at his bottom lip with his tongue.
“Callista Greyhound of Emberfell claimed fourth place.” Lark’s shadows forged Callista’s name in the air beneath the other three. “With grace and power, she found the crystal pearl, an object representing a myth of her people. She traversed the High Temple in the central sector to retrieve it.”
The cheering was exponentially heightened for her, even though she was in fourth place, and she beamed at her admirers. A blush graced her cheeks. The perfect picture of a humble, thankful challenger. But her eyes gave her away. At the last second, I saw her turn a piercing glare toward Callum, the venom in that single look making me smirk.
It seemed I wasn’t the only one out for blood.
“Rose Wolff of Feywood.”
I jerked at the sound of my name, watching slithering shadows form the letters.
“In fifth place, but not for lack of strength. She solved a puzzle in a battlefield memorial, leading her to a crystal of great spiritual magic.”
I knew I’d be toward the bottom, but the sight of those four names before mine was a kick to my pride. I nodded tightly at the polite applause that followed, pointedly avoiding Callum’s haughty face and Alaric’s uncomfortable expression. If it weren’t for them, I would’ve reached the memorial faster. Who knows how high of a rank I could’ve had? Climbing back from the bottom would be almost impossible.
“Remember what you’re here for,” Horace muttered, too quiet for anyone else to hear. I twisted my neck to see his dark, beady eyes trained on mine, one bushy eyebrow slightly raised.
“I know,” I whispered back. He was right. This wasn’t about winning the tournament. Not in the end.
“Finally, Nox Duma of Drakorum.”
Murmurs swept across the hall. Drakorum hadneverfallen to last place—not in recent history, at least. By all accounts, Nox should be leading the pack. Shifters and Illusionists were notoriously the strongest. Seeing a Strider at the top of the rankings was shocking, to say the least.
“Nox braved the wild forests of the south, retrieving a replica of the talisman of the dragon, an artifact Drakorum holds dear,” Lark finished, waving a hand at the six names written in shadow. They pulsed and writhed in the air, but didn’t dissipate.
“Well, there you have it. The end of the first trial.” She clapped her hands once. “This is shaping up to be quite the interesting Decemvirate.”
25
Leo
My mother’s hand felt so small in mine. It had been over a decade, and I still hadn’t gotten used to seeing her like this. The hands that were once larger than life, that once tucked me into bed at night or tenderly held me through my nightmares, now frail and fragile in my own.
I took in her graying hair from the light of the moon coming in the window, a bit of her vibrant blonde peeking through the strands. The same blonde as my sister. The wrinkles on her gaunt face were slightly less defined when she slept. Her thin chest moved up and down slowly with her breaths, the only indication she was still alive.
It was late, and with my rare night off from Sentinel duties, I should be sleeping. But I often came to her room when I couldn’t get my mind to quiet. I would sit here in silence and hold her hand, or, in the times she was actually awake, I would read to her. Rissa and I kept a collection of her favorite books on her bedside table. Sometimes, I would simply talk. Ten years ago, she was still responsive enough to respond. I would sit and tell her of mine and Rissa’s recent escapades while she slowly knitted or wrote in her journal, stinted conversation taking place until she became too tired.
Over time, those kinds of visits were few and far between. Her hands shook too violently to hold her needles, so we’d sit by the fire in the living room instead. When sitting straight for long periods of time became too difficult, we held her hand in her bed. Our stories earned us smiles and nods, an occasional whisper of encouragement.
