It’s a lie. “Why do you think Honorate Sixmen accused you of being a thief?”
Eduma shudders. “I was foolish. He found out I overheard his argument. The next thing I knew, I was in prison.” She’s sobbing now. “But I’m not a thief. I swear I’m not.”
“I know you’re not. You didn’t do anything wrong, Eduma. I’m going to make sure you get out of here. I just need you to answer one more question for me: Do you think Honorate Sixmen killed his wife?”
She shakes her head frantically. “No. No, of course not.”
Another lie. Eduma very much believes her former employer is capable of murder. After hearing how he tossed an innocent woman in prison without a second thought, so do I. Selva Sixmen is a monster. And a murderer.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
THROUGH SMOKE AND SNOW
The second trial of the Tournament of Thrones is sparsely attended. I can’t blame anyone who opted to sit this one out. The few of us whoarein attendance are shivering outside Widow’s Hall with no view of anything but snow—let alone the actual event.
My breath mists in the air as General Fain explains the parameters of the second trial. It’s a race, from the mountain’s crest back down to Widow’s Hall. The first candidate to make it to the finish line—here, where our small group of watchers waits—is the winner.
Luc and Kaidren will each receive a pickax, for the ice and snow, and a flare tied around their necks, for emergencies. The flare is to be used as a call for helponly. Set it off, and the decurio will swoop in to rescue them. But doing so is an immediate forfeit.
As soon as the General is finished outlining the event, I rush inside. Already, I’m running out of time. The decurio is currently transporting Luc and Kaidren to the top of the mountain to start the trial, but I can’t do anything about that until I have supplies.
First, I need to dress as warmly as possible. Then, I need magic.
Ten minutes later, I’m in my attic, wearing fur-lined pants, awool sweater, thick coat, and a heavy sjaal, snatching jars of my swirling red smoke and shoveling them into a bag.
I don’t hear Sef until she’s right behind me. “Mira?”
I jump, putting a hand over my heart. “Stars in hell, Sef. When did you get so light-footed?” I flash her a grin and keep stuffing jars of magic into my bag.
She shuffles around me, brows drawn. “You’re not seriously thinking of climbing to the crest by yourself?”
“I have to.”
“Mira.” Sef speaks sternly. “There’s a reason Widow’s Hall is here and not farther up the mountain. It’sdangerous. Steep, icy, and cold. If you fall—”
“I won’t.”
“Butifyou do, you’ll die.”
“I know.” Finished packing, I give her my most reassuring smile. “That won’t happen. I promise.”
The look she gives me is flat and unamused. “I’m not your brother. I’m not so easy to lie to.” She takes a breath. “And there’s something else.”
I sling my bag onto my back. “What is it?”
“Ophera is under attack.”
I stop breathing. For three seconds, I’m perfectly still. Then, “What did you just say?”
“Petruvia launched an attack on Farvelle on the eastern border.”
The same section of land that, according to the treaty, belongs to no one. “Are there any casualties?”
“I’m not sure. I only just heard about it.”
ItoldLuc to take care of this sooner rather than later, and he didnothing. My only consolation is that the eastern border is on the opposite side of where I used to live with my mother. It’s a cold comfort. Ophera—all of it—is part of me. And nowit’s being taken over by Petruvia, ruled by a king who doesn’t have a benevolent Opheran shadow flitting around behind the scenes. “Have the decurio responded yet?”
“I don’t know. I heard it from a stablehand. He said a few soldiers took greyhorns down the mountain to assess the situation. I don’t know anything else. I thought you would want to look into it.”
