“What do you mean?” I ask, tilting my head.
He stands, rubbing the back of his neck. “When you healed me, electricity traveled through my body. I knew from theritual's workings that this was something else—something that seemed to linger, screaming at me to avoid you.”
I stare at him for a moment, unsure how to continue. “Look, I know this sounds insane, but we are really going to need your…”
Before I can finish, he responds, “I’m in. But you are going to have to loop in Nolan. He can help.”
Hesitation travels through the room. “I don’t think it’s a good idea to get anyone else involved,” Silas says harshly. “It already puts us at risk telling you.”
The animosity between Rohhit and Silas makes the room feel cramped, each ready to strike at any second, although I can tell Rohhit is trying not to play Silas’s game.
“What’s the plan?” Rohhit asks, cutting his eyes from Silas.
“We aren’t sure yet since we don’t know what the fourth trial is. Maines thinks it’s a duel of some sort. The main goal is to stop Thatcher from going through with the last ritual. My father is going to throw everything at us, knowing he’s this close to winning,” I explain.
Rohhit glances between me and Silas, his stare burning a hole in my chest. “So, I’ll ask again. What’s going on between the two of you?” he raises an eyebrow.
Silas steps forward, immediate defense taking over his body. “What about us, prince?”
“Well, to me and everyone around, it seems as if our Princess has chosen her match. I can sense the connection between you two from miles away.”
My face reddens as there is no denying what’s going on between me and Silas. “I don’t think my love life is any of your concern,” I snap.
He chuckles. “Well, in case you forgot, we are technically fighting for your hand in marriage. What will you do if this competition continues and you are to marry another, Briar?”
Silas’s eyes darken. “I’ll die before I let that happen.”
“Oh, it very well may happen, Prince! We are still choosing to compete in these trials, and if at the end of it you aren’t the one standing victorious, Silas, she will marry someone else. On the spot, if I’m not mistaken. You mustn’t forget the promise she made her father.”
Silas shifts forward, inches from Rohhit’s face, pinning him against the wall. “You best hold your tongue. We have larger things in the works here that you have no idea about. Briar will choose her future, not you or her father.” He steps back, dusting off his shirt. “It seems as if someone isn’t used to losing, huh, Prince?” Silas mutters under his breath.
“Will you two stop?” I demand. “You two are acting as if I’m not standing right here. The reason we all continue to fight in these trials is because it’s bringing us one step closer to figuring everything outandstopping my father from committing a horrible act. If we stop now, we lose! I am marrying no one—end of discussion. Stop acting like children!” Their gazes travel to mine, and I move toward them, grabbing Silas’s arm. “We need to focus on what’s ahead of us, and you two fighting isn’t going to solve anything.”
Silas moves a few paces away, giving Rohhit space to step forward. He dusts off his shirt.
Rohhit glares at Silas, “Briar is right. If we don’t work together, none of us may make it out of this competition alive.”
Silas nods in agreement but refuses to peel his eyes off Rohhit as if waiting for another fight to break out.
I step back, gathering everyone back into a circle. “Now that almost everyone is looped in, can we please focus? We are to be in the throne room shortly, and we need a plan.”
Clouds drift slowly in the mid-morning sky, blocking the sun from chasing away the shadows and the heavy feeling of darkness that hangs thick in the air. My resentment toward my father feels like a distant background noise amid the chaos of my life, leaving a familiar sensation burning a hole in my chest. We enter the throne room together as a force—like fog gliding over water—paving a path for the future and those who will lead it. The remaining mentors stand near my father on the throne, anticipation weaving through the room.
He sits with Calia, her hand resting on his shoulder, and I take him in, struck by the sight of his weakened state. Dark circles lie beneath his usually intense eyes, appearing gaunt as if he has been slowly drained of life over the past few weeks. There’s still a darkness surrounding him that sends a shiver down my spine. I can’t help but wonder what he has told them—what lies he has fed them about the reasoning for this competition and his desperation to marry off his ‘lonely’ daughter. Thatcher stands before them—hands tucked behind his back—waiting for us to enter and line up. Oak, Rohhit, and Silas let me take the lead as I position myself furthest from Thatcher, with Oak bridging the gap between us. Maines lingers back toward the exit but remains clearly in sight. Oak made sure to prepare an exit plan for her in case things go awry. I glance over my shoulder, giving Maines a nod.
The King of Daramveer stands on deteriorating legs. “This has been a long road we have all traveled. A few brave heartshave fallen, and I regret to inform you that the true challenges are only beginning.” His voice booms but is broken by a cough. “The fourth trial is upon us, and you will duel against a fellow competitor. The person responsible for the final blow will be crowned our winner and move on to fight in the final round against a common enemy.”
Maines was right—all he needs is a duel amidst the flames to finish what he started. I resist the urge to turn toward her to see her reaction.
My father continues, “Understand?” We all nod in response. “Very well. The Princes of Eddris and Andorwood, Thatcher Madden of Daramveer, and the Princess of Daramveer will compete in a duel. The order will be announced at the time of the trial. Winners will win the Princess’s hand in marriage and more than you could ever dream of.”
A wide grin forms on Thatcher’s face. I shift my eyes down the line of competitors, all looking as confused as I am.
“Ah, yes, I’ve forgotten someone, haven’t I? It was brought to my attention that one of the competitors' hearts is not here for my daughter, as he has fallen for another.” My father’s voice claps like thunder.
I swallow hard, the noise echoing through the silent room. Oak Hombern’s name leaves the king’s mouth as my heart thunders. Everyone is frozen as the King of Daramveer continues, “The longer you stand before me is just insulting—I hope Miss Madden was worth the embarrassment you’ve caused your family. You are hereby sentenced to death.”
My eyes dart to Thatcher, who sports a wicked grin, nodding his head and gazing directly at the back of the room. I don’t have to turn my head to know who is standing there. Maines’s entire body trembles, and I can sense the fear radiating from her body.
