“Are you finished?” Nia barked out from quite a distance ahead, making me realize we’d come to a stop. “I’m only passing this way once.”
We hurried to catch up, me stuffing the fruit and nuts into my mouth, chewing while the hawk soared over us to land on another stone beyond Nia.
The corridor curved, and Nia led us through an archway where the last pretense of civilization fell away. Roots burst through cracked walls in grasping fingers, covered in twisted gray bark. Mushrooms glowed with pale blue light in the crevices, the luminescencepainting our faces. The scent of damp earth and flowers made my nose itch and my eyes water.
“This isn’t natural,” Kerralyn said, stooping down to study one of the vines. “It feels…” Her breath jerked in, and her hands shook. “Alright, it feels hungry. I know that sounds odd. And the growth patterns, the way the stone has been systematically broken and reformed. I’ve never read about anything like it.”
“Magic.” Unease crept through Derren’s voice. He slid an arm across Lexie’s shoulders, tugging her away from where Kerralyn was poking a vine with her pencil. “Wouldn’t play with those if I was you.” He dragged Kerralyn back, and the vine twitched. She paled and hurried to keep up.
A vine flung out toward Nia, and her hand snapped out, her palm impacting with the thing gouging toward her. Her other hand lifted, striking with a lightning blade that could’ve only been crafted by magic. She neatly sliced the vine from its base, then continued walking.
The vine lay on the floor, twitching as we passed, and when its sickly-sweet scent hit me, I bolted, catching up to walk close behind Nia.
She sent me a smirk but kept moving.
Finally, our torturous journey was over—or just beginning. Nia stopped at a metal door that vaguely shimmered with white light, and we crowded behind her. Heavy locks ran down the length of the panel, metal vertebrae, each one etched with symbols I couldn’t make out in the dim light.
Nia pulled a ring of keys from her belt and inserted one at a time into each lock.
Click. Snap. Clank. Each lock opened like a wound.
Nia’s mouse watched, its tail flicking back and forth, hitting her nape with each twitch.
When the final lock gave way, Nia pressed her shoulder against the door and pushed. Hinges groaned, metal gouging against itself.
Sunlight burst through the gap, blinding me, making my eyes stream with tears.
Nia poked her finger toward the opening, undulating it. “Out.”
We passed her, stepping from the hallway into a broad, grassy meadow with thick woods beyond. Lush vegetation of every color coated the ground. The treetops scraped toward the murky greenish-blue sky above.
I sucked in a breath of fresh air mixed with the cloying sweet scent of flowers left too long in a tomb. Bird calls drifted from the forest ahead, melodic and beautiful yet somehow fundamentally wrong, as if they were mimicking the sounds without understanding their meaning.
Nia slammed the door shut behind us hard enough to vibrate my bones. Six locks clicked in rapid succession, each one sealing us away from any hope of retreat.
“Well,” Fara said, her voice bright with cheer that couldn’t quite mask the tremor underneath. “There’ll be no going back now.”
Seven other shimmering doors banged closed with the same finality in the wall nearby. Seven other groups of eight recruits, all of us trapped in this meadow together with whatever lay ahead. Sixty-four people facing a trial that had been designed to winnow our numbers down to something more manageable.
The space was gorgeous in the way that dangerous things often were, beautiful enough to lure you in before it sprang a trap. Rolling green grass dotted with wildflowers stretched toward a line of trees that rose like a green wall.
Tables laden with supplies sat in neat rows near the forest’s edge, their surfaces groaning under the weight of their bounty.
Weapons glinted, swords and knives and axes that promised swift death to whatever might come at the wielder. Packs bulged with provisions, their leather sides stretched tight over unseen treasures. Tools of every description lay arranged on another table.
It was perfect. Too tempting.
And that was the problem.
Three of the groups broke into sprints toward the tables, their shouts of excitement carrying across the meadow like battle cries. I watched them run, these people who saw opportunity where I saw bait, and cold settled deep in my stomach.
“Stay back,” I barked, my voice cutting through my team’s forward momentum.
The authority in my voice surprised even me. For years, I’d been the dutiful daughter, the perfect Lady of Mercy who followed orders and smiled prettily. But here, with death lurking in every shadow, I was finally becoming who I was meant to be.
Daring. Decisive. Deadly.
Seven pairs of eyes turned to me with varying degrees of surprise and irritation. Bryson’s scarred face showed the first hint of respect I’d seen from him. Kerralyn clutched her journal tighter, her eyes bright with curiosity. Fara took a half-step closer to me, her nurturing instincts recognizing the authority in my tone even if she didn’t understand why.
