My lungs are close to bursting as I sprint towards the only hope I have left. I must get in. That’s all there is to it. I’ll work out how to survive the trials – without magic – once I’m chosen. Because Iwillbe chosen.
Mindful of the other man’s mistake, I slow my feet as they hit the thin, icy surface of the moat. Dangerously thin.
Fuck!This time I swallow the curse, biting my lip to keep any sound from slipping out. Panic thrums through me with every breath. Even my paltry weight will likely be too much for the ice, but I have no choice but to keep moving forward.
I’m halfway there. Halfway to safety. Halfway to death.
A loud crack sounds, followed by a quieter one, and then I’m plunged into freezing water up to my neck. Shock tears my breath from me – a blessing in disguise as my scream dies in my throat. If the Retterheld has swimming in it, I’m screwed. It’s not that I can’t swim; it’s just that as soon as I know I’m out of my depth, a primal fear takes hold of my limbsand mind and leaves me flailing hopelessly. I steady my feet against the stony bottom of the moat, trying to calm my breathing ever so slightly.
The water is agonisingly cold, but while the jolt bites deep, it doesn’t break me.I’ve no doubt the other nobles would be crippled by the shock. They may live in a cold climate, but they dress in thick furs and live in magically warmed rooms. They don’t know what it’s like to wake with your fingers and toes turning blue, ice crystals threading along your headboard, and the only drinkable water hidden beneath six inches of ice.
But I do.
So, ignoring the numbing cold that swirls around me, I wade through the still waters, clenching my jaw to stop the sound of my chattering teeth from escaping.Gods, I am so close.
Relief floods me when I reach the other side, though the feeling is short-lived. All that water soaking into my pitiful shoes has lessened their purchase. Considerably. Still, I have no choice. If I stay here, I’ll die. It’s that simple.
With my hands on the rough-hewn temple walls, I manoeuvre myself so that my foot is anchored and push myself upward. There’s just about enough friction to get another precarious foothold, and then the next. My thighs burn as I force all my power through them, every muscle stretching as I reach for the thin metal frame of the open window above.
The pain that sears through my palm is enough to make me gasp, the sound echoing in the silence. The metal frame must have a jagged edge that has now sliced through several layers of skin, if not more.
That brew of mine might cover a lot of scents from the dire wolves, but I seriously doubt it’s going to mask this much blood. I need to hurry.
I reach up again, and this time, I look up as well, placing my right hand carefully on the metal.
Haste makes waste,my mother’s voice chides me from my memories.
A shout erupts. ‘There! Over by the window!’
Fuck!There’s a thunder of feet on the drawbridge and I know I’m down to my last seconds of opportunity.
Groaning aloud, I heave myself up on bloody fingers until my torso is level with the window, but it’s not enough. I need to be higher to avoid tumbling headfirst through the opening. There’s a ten-foot drop on the other side and I’m pretty sure arriving with a concussion will not impress the Goddess. I cannot screw this up now. Not when I’m so fucking close!
A metallic tang floods my tongue as I bite down on the inside of my cheek, but I pay neither the pain nor the taste any mind. Instead, I forcemyself to give one last push, heaving my body up that extra foot and opening the window fully.
With panting breaths, I block out the shouts of the guards below and draw my legs up beneath me to balance my feet on the sharp ledge. Then, without giving myself time to hesitate, I jump downwards.
My boots slam against the marble floor and I stagger, but pride and practice keep me on my feet. I’m quickly aware of the sensation of my limbs prickling with the heat of the temple.
I smile with satisfaction as a furious wolf howl cuts through the silence of the night, but my expression falters as I lift my head and take in the sight before me.
It feels like a punch to the heart.
It’s not the mesmerising crystal chandeliers, each holding a thousand flickering candles, that steal my breath. Nor the vaulted, painted ceilings. Nor even the white marble pillars that gleam like sun-bleached bone.
It’s my memories.
Memories of my family. Of our lost magic.
And it’s almost enough to undo me. To make me falter. To forget why I came.
Almost.
Chapter 2
The last time I was in this temple, I wasn’t wearing torn rags and shoes with soles so thin a cross look could pierce them – I was dressed in silk. It was forest green, displaying the type of magic I once possessed, and paired with a rich stole of soft wolf fur.
It is the memories of the good old days that guided me here, that summoned my feet to Etta’s temple, and now I must use them to make an offering. A gift to show her I’m worthy of the chance of a lifetime. That I have the reason, the desire, and the will to fight in the Retterheld until death or the end of the trials, whichever comes first.
