My legs still feel unsteady, my breathing uneven. A headache pulses behind my eyes, like something clawing from the inside.
“Come on,” Nadya whispers, her hand already closing around mine.
She pulls me gently through the dispersing crowd. I’m dimly aware of familiar faces—the Ironshields, the courtiers in dark red and black—but none of them see me, not really. They see the princess who stayed perfectly still while the king’s son proved his worth.
Not the woman who bled from her nose and nearly passed out trying to keep him alive.
We slip through a narrow passage flanked with faded tapestries, until Nadya pushes open a door and leads us into a dim, unusedlounge—its walls lined with empty display shelves and tall windows veiled in dust-smeared glass. The light is soft in here, scattered. Quiet.
As soon as the door closes behind us, Nadya rounds on me.
“Celeste,” she says, her voice low but urgent, “what happened out there?”
I lean against the nearest column and slide slowly to the floor. “I… I don’t know.”
She kneels beside me, her hands fluttering, clearly unsure whether to hold my arm or just give me space. “Was it your magic?”
I shake my head, but not in denial. In disbelief. “It was beyond my control. I needed to help him. I just… thought it. Willed it. I called out his name in my head, and he turned. Then again, later—when he slipped—I pushed… something. I felt it leave me.”
“Like when you chased me with the flower petals?”
I start to tremble. “Yes, but much… wilder. Like I had no control over it.”
She straightens and goes to one of the windows, as if making sure no one is looking for us. “Do you think you’re developing your uncle’s power? The telepathy?” Nadya’s voice is kept a whisper. “It would make sense, since it’s in your family.”
“Fae aren’t supposed to have more than one special power.” The strength, speed, and healing nature of fae is part of our race, but each fae usually develops a singular power that rises above all that. “How could I have telepathy too?”
Nadya’s brows pull tight. “And the nosebleed? That’s never happened before.”
Before I can answer, Ezra steps into the room, his robes gathered in his fists, his brows furrowed as he studies me. “There you are. I’ve been looking for you,” he says, shutting the door behind him. “Are you all right?”
“No,” Nadya says quickly, standing near me and folding her arms. “She is not all right. She’s bleeding from the nose and barely able to stand.”
“I’m fine,” I say. My physical turmoil has nothing on the mentalanguish troubling me. “Ezra, what the hell was that? A fucking trial? Did you know they were going to make Dante go through that?”
“Not exactly, no.” Ezra steps closer to me. “As I mentioned, there hasn’t been a legitimization tour in over a century. The trails are a very old custom, a way for a bastard making a claim for his place in line for the throne to prove his worth. The realms took these claims seriously centuries ago, knowing anyone worthy of a royal title could simplyaskto be legitimized; they had to earn it. The trials were created as a way to measure one’s worth, as well as to deter those who were not up to the challenge.”
It makes sense, in a cruel sort of way. “Did Dante know he was going to have to go through all this?” He hadn’t mentioned anything about it to me, but maybe he didn’t want me to worry. Or maybe he believed the realms wouldn’t carry out this old tradition.
“I don’t believe he did. Not until they brought him out into the arena, that is. But luckily, it seems he passed the test.”
“Yes.” I swallow hard. “About that…”
Ezra narrows his eyes. “Tell me exactly what happened.”
I take a deep breath before I push myself up to stand before him. “At first, I just saw the danger. The platform Dante was about to jump to—it was loose, ready to fall. I was thinkinggo leftso hard, it felt like I was screaming it in my own head.” My voice thins with the memory. “Then he looked toward me. He turned, just for a second, as if hearing me. And then he jumped the other way.”
Ezra exhales slowly, blinking at me. “So… you didn’t speak the words aloud?”
I shake my head.
“And he responded? As if he’d heard you?”
“I don’t know,” I say again, weaker now. “It could’ve been coincidence. But then when he slipped, I felt panic rise like a tide, and I just shoved the energy out. Like I did when we practiced with the magnolia petals. Except I don’t think I even meant to. It was just a reaction. The energy burst forward before I could question it.”
Nadya looks at me for a long, still moment, her expressionunreadable.
Ezra paces back and forth for a bit, tapping his bearded chin with his finger. “Telepathy runs in your family. Your uncle.”
