I kick a stone at the edge of the tunnel, watching as it tumbles down to thud into the grass below. Will it be another land-based Trial? Now I gaze at those rolling hills, it seems certain that it is. But who or what enemy we must fight is unclear. Soturi’s death has haunted me this past week, his drake crying out over and over across Highborn. I curled up in a ball and picked at my food for two days and nights. Mourning the loss of my freedom, my old way of life, the people I loved who are gone.
But then I rose. And I reminded myself that it’s not over. I’m still alive. Kell is still alive and so is Agnes. Our hearts still beat in their cage of a palace and the ruling council has not broken us yet. I must stare down death one final time.
The ruling council has a last trick to test us – that’s clear from the serene scene of the arena. To see who will triumph, who will fall, and decide on the narrative they will write to suit their own ends. If I succeed, I will be their champion, proving the strength of the ruling council. If I fail, I will be dead, symbolising the fall of the isles and how they have brought us all to heel. They will use me like the pawn I am to them, to suit their own ends. But we have our own plans. Our own allies in this Trial.
We’re led down to the arena, the guards escorting us as a group to the very middle. I look around, ignoring the crowd, taking in the terrain. There are very few places to hide. We’re mostly exposed. Wind whistles throughthe space, stirring my hair, and I bend low, placing my hand on the grass. All real. There is no spellwork here.
Sember sidles over, leaning in to murmur in my ear. ‘She’s in the crowd. She’s watching.’
I grow still, blood beating hot through my veins. Agnes is here. They’ve brought her to the Trials again. ‘Where?’
‘East of us, ten o’clock. She’s in a balcony box with the ruling council. Her bruises have faded, but she’s tried escaping multiple times, so I’ve been told. Her guards have been rotated out; they refuse to guard her.’
‘Why?’ I ask, forcing myself not to look. Not to seek her out just yet.
‘She bites.’
I chuckle, low in my throat. ‘That’s my girl.’
‘We have a plan, and you have to trust us. But, first, we need to get through the Trial, to survive it.’
‘To win it, you mean,’ I say, side-eyeing her. After today, I’ll know if she’s been able to stick to her word, to our deal. That she might actually have got Agnes out of here. I’ve fought against trusting her, but, despite all that has happened and the betrayals I have faced, I do. I really do trust her. Perhaps I just trusted the wrong people before, like Seth. But maybe I shouldn’t close the door on trusting others completely. We need her today. I need her to come through for us.
She inclines her head. ‘That too. Winning is for Heath. I promise that if you’d met his father you would understand.’
‘We have a deal, Sember Lockswift,’ I say, turning to her. ‘You’re saving Agnes’s, Kell’s and my life today by helping us escape. That’s all I need to understand. Thank you. Can you share any of your plan?’
She winces. ‘If I do, and it doesn’t work, then it implicates those I am working with. For now, we need them to seem loyal to the ruling council. You will learn who your true allies are soon enough.’
‘All right.’ I sigh softly, willing myself to just trust, as I trusted my people on Rosevear before all this. As I trusted the others in the seven I swam out with on the rope, with my life. Every time, as natural as breath.
Sember nods, ending the discussion, and turns back to the arena. ‘I’ve heard they’ve saved the worst until last.’
‘Predictable.’
‘Indeed.’
I take a moment then to survey the crowd, gaze lingering on the eastern stands. My stomach drops when I see Agnes, everything else falling away. She’s unmistakable, her wild red hair, her pale face, her eyes burning with hate. I fix her in my mind, the simmering rage, ever present, burning in my heart. They thought they could capture us and bend us to their will. They were wrong. We will never be theirs, in our hearts, in our souls.
‘Contenders!’ a voice projects over the arena. ‘Welcome to the third and final Trial. Your objective this time is simple. Survive.’
The gong sounds, the crowd cheers, and the six of us exchange glances in confusion. We pull out our weapons, ready for what is to come. Silence stretches across the massive space. Even the crowd is growing still. What are we meant to survive?
‘I don’t like this,’ Kell whispers, readying an arrow in his bow. ‘If we all survive, what then? We all win?’
‘I imagine this Trial is so awful that they’re expecting to scrape what’s left of most of us off this finely clipped grass. That, or watch us forfeit like cowards,’ Heath remarks, drawing his sword. ‘I suggest we put aside our differences. Fight the common enemy.’
‘Agreed,’ says Fey, also palming a sword. I haven’t seen her since the last Trial, and her eyes are hollowed out and raw. My heart bleeds for her. For Soturi. For her loss. ‘We can worry about victory later. I don’t like the feel of this.’
A drake cry sounds from somewhere to the west and she breathes a name, which sounds something likeJavilick. She swallows, turning to us. ‘That was my drake, that was his warning cry! For—’
Then the sky shatters all around us.
I flinch as the sky, once pale blue, is now crowded with something else, something other.
Fey spits on the ground. ‘Wyvern.’
Panic engulfs me and I have to force myself to count them, to control my breathing. Five, six, seven, eight, nine. There are nine wyvern in the sky, moving swiftly towards us. In all the previous Trials Hira had listed andresearched, none mentioned wyvern. I look across to the ruling council, lounging in their seats, watching on idly. Do they want a spectacle today, or a massacre?
