“Maines will know what to do,” Oak says. “It doesn’t seem to be spreading, so maybe it will go away, or you have a cool new marking, Briar!”
No one laughs. Silas continues to stare at me, concern written across his face. His gaze does nothing to ease my nerves.
“We need to get back to the castle. I can only imagine what Thatcher is telling the others about this trial,” I groan, not wanting to face what’s before us. Silas bends down and plants a kiss on my head, a gentleness behind his hard eyes.
Rohhit and Oak share a look.
“Anything you two need to tell us?” Oak snorts.
My cheeks redden as Silas slaps his knees, standing in a huff. “Let’s get going,” he commands.
Stepping off the soft grass and onto the filthy cobblestone streets, the air feels different, foul, like doom hangs over the kingdom. The streets that once held memories of a virtuouskingdom now only seem to absorb sorrow and darkness from the people walking these paths. No townspeople congratulate us as we pass—they only gasp at our appearance.
I can only imagine what we look like. Oak is covered in mud and grass, with minor cuts all over his handsome face. Silas’s hair is wild and muddy, and exhaustion hangs over him. I glance down at my own body, and I fear I look the worst. Rohhit’s limp is still visible. Thick, dried blood coats our clothing, and minor cuts are scattered on my cheeks from the branches assaulting my face.
When we near the castle, the tall, black iron gates tower over us like shadows. The left gate is slightly propped open, allowing anyone to step through. A few guards stand watch as they stare, letting us enter easily, as our presence isn’t unwelcome. As we make our way back to the grounds, the castle courtyard is empty, a true ghost town.
Maines bounds through the door, her eyes wide and wild. “Holy Gods,” she gasps. “You all look awful!” She wraps her arms around me, squeezing tight, and a shooting pain travels through my sore body. “You smell worse than you look, which is saying something.”
Maines scans Silas and Rohhit from head to toe, checking to see if they are okay when her gaze lands on Oak standing behind them. She pauses for a moment, catching her breath before springing forward and wrapping her arms around his neck. Oak returns the tight embrace, nuzzling his face into the curve of her neck. Relief glimmers in her panicked eyes as she pulls back, her cheeks flushing a bright pink.
“I’m happy to see you, too, Maines.” Oak flashes a grin.
“Is everyone okay? What the fuck happened?” she asks.
“We are okay but have much to fill you in on,” I quickly add.
Silas is immediately beside me, placing his hand on a small part of my back. The unexpected touch startles me. Hisprotective behavior is impossible to ignore. Maine’s eyebrows shoot up. “Looks like we might have a few things to discuss.”
We step into the stone walls of the castle. The overwhelming sensation of being trapped once again washes over me, but I feel less frightened with my friends surrounding me like a protective shield—my family. Maines turns the corner, guiding us down the winding halls toward the throne room. “Everyone has been waiting for you all.”
The men enter the throne room without hesitation, ready to face my father and their mentors.
Maines snatches me back, not letting me cross the threshold just yet. “Briar, something changed last night. Your father is different, looks different even. Talk around the kingdom is a ritual that was held while you were away. It shook the entire town.”
“Do you know what it was?”
“No, thankfully, I was at the House of Hedro. My father, though, is also affected. You’ll see. Something is off.”
I nod, readying myself to enter the throne room. I cross the threshold, wishing I wasn’t covered in dried blood. The air is thick as a sense of dread looms through the crowd standing before my father. He looks worn, almost drained, and I can’t help but think of my mother the night she died in a similar state.
“Briar! Welcome,” he says from the throne.
Guards line the walls, and the mentors stand around him as if they are a part of his court. “Congratulations are in order for our returning competitors. We’ve waited patiently for your return.”
The small crowd claps as Thatcher huffs. A few members of the staff part for me to make my way to my father.
“Thatcher Madden is our obvious winner once more! However, we will honor our fallen, the Thornfield family.” My father glances at Calia, her hand placed on his shoulder as ifholding him down. “Calia, your boys were brave and risked their lives for the betterment of this kingdom. They deserve to be recognized for that bravery.”
She nods, making direct eye contact with me in the crowd, and slightly rubs my father’s shoulder in thanks. No emotion shows behind her dark eyes, and something seems off about her as well. She leans to whisper something in my father’s ear as he straightens.
I approach my father and notice the difference Maines mentioned. Cheerful insanity lurks behind his eyes, and his mannerisms are off—fidgety—as though something is trying to break through his skin. A foul smell hits my nose, making my stomach churn. I wonder if the others notice.
Keeping my hands behind my back, I bow before him, standing beside Silas. The others—Elrod and Thatcher included—remain behind, surrounded by their mentors.
“Thatcher told me of your bravery during the third trial, Briar. Quick thinking saved Prince Rohhit from dying. A ritual was performed to save him!” The small crowd claps in my honor. “Without your bravery, Princess, we would no longer have the Prince of Eddris, and that would be such a shame. I know you will do great things in your life.” His eyes snap to Rohhit.
I move my hands from behind my back, and my father’s attention shifts from the prince to my markings.
