As we got closer, my ears popped as if I’d climbed a steep hill. The temperature dropped further, and frost began to form on the stone below our feet.
“What is this place?” Kerralyn whispered, her curiosity warring with fear.
“I believe it’s the final test,” I said.
As we approached the main entrance, the front door swung open. Darkness lay beyond the threshold.
We came to a stop, looking at each other for direction.
“Is it over?” Lexie asked by my side.
Chills wracked my frame. I suspected whatever lay inside would test us in ways the jungle, desert, and courtyard never could. I’d bet anything this wasn’t about physical survival anymore.
I shook my head. “No, I thinkthisis where we bleed.”
“Who goes first?” Kerralyn asked, her voice barely a whisper.
Maddox gave me a mocking bow, but something else lurked inhis expression. Anticipation, maybe. Or hunger. “I believe our leader should make this sacrifice.”
I lifted my chin and met his gaze with steel in my spine.
I’d come too far to hesitate now. I would handle whatever they might throw at us inside. Fear had latched onto my bones, but instead of cowering, I let it sharpen me.
Addie was counting on me.
The stolen children were waiting for me to rescue them.
Without another word, I strode through the open doorway and into the darkness beyond.
20
TREW
Istood behind the magical screen high above the arena, watching the crowd settle into their places. The vast circular area gleamed, its crystalline structure catching sunlight from the open ceiling many stories above. Stone benches filled with observers from every corner of Syllavar stood in front of long benches, current magic-wielders and warriors in their distinctive robes, others retired and wearing less formal clothing. Everyone had brought their bonded creatures. Court officials and commoners who’d earned the right to witness this event stood in front of the lower benches.
They hadn’t seen me yet. For a short time, I could observe them without being noticed.
Sunlight cut through the arena in slanted beams, glinting off the ceremonial armor of the guards positioned at every entrance. Banners representing the five elemental guilds fluttered from the high rafters.
The arena held centuries of history. It was a place of triumph. Tragedy. Transformation.
The air thrummed with ancient magic, carrying the tang ofpower and the faint sweetness of incense. The collective anticipation of at least a thousand spectators charged the atmosphere until it felt difficult to breathe, like the moment before a storm breaks.
Horns echoed off the arena walls. The audience shifted, their clothing rustling.
My advisors entered first, striding to the raised box where they would sit with me. Grayson led them, his white owl perched on his shoulder, her head swiveling to scan the arena with unblinking amber eyes.
Coralee followed, her spine rigid and her chin lifted with the exact amount of pride required for such an event. Not a fraction more or less. My aunt had mastered the art of calculated movement long before I was born. Her ermine companion draped across the back of her neck, his bushy tail swishing, his calculating gaze missing nothing.
Then came Kira, her vivid red hair a shock of color down the back of her cream-colored robe. She took her position in front of the seat to the right of my throne, while Grayson stood in front of the one on the left, Coralee on his other side. Kira’s jaw tightened as her gaze flicked to where I remained hidden before she focused on the right-hand gate, where the beasts would soon emerge.
The death adder coiled around her wrist twitched, her blood-red scales catching the light. I remembered when she’d bonded with it, after her first, more ambitious attempt had failed. The arena had been quiet that day too, holding its breath.
Just shy of seven months ago, I’d appointed her to my advisor team after one of the members died.
The trumpets blared again, and I stepped through the magical screen, the barrier parting around me only to reseal once I’d passed. The crowd erupted in cheers. I lifted a hand, acknowledging them with a wave that had become second nature over the sixteen years of my reign. When I reached the railing at the top of the slope leading to the royal viewing box, I bowed. I may rule, but it was my duty as king to serve them.
I strode down the slope to my throne, positioned to give the best view of the arena below. My great-grandfather had commissioned this throne, and a master artisan had carved it from a single piece of silver-veined stone. No cushion.
