“I’ll take none less.”
He snapped his fingers and turned away. He disappeared into his study and emerged with a glowing purple object in hand. It was one of the crystals that lit the citadel, but much smaller than any I’d seen before. He extended it to me, palm up. “This light will not go out.”
I picked up the crystal between my index finger and thumb and held it before my eyes. “How?”
“Its power comes from the magic inherent to our realm. And there’s no dearth of that.”
I gazed past the crystal to him. “So I can see at night.”
His lips twitched an acknowledgment, even as his eyes scanned the room. Tonight he was so thorough, so prepared—a contrast to the last trial. And only now did I realize how fully he had expected us to die.
Now, he had hope. Or at least desire. And that knowledge gave me resolve.
I fit the crystal into my belt pouch. “Thank you.”
“Show me your sword.” His hand came out for it.
I unsheathed my sword and passed it to him. He inspected it, holding the blade flat before his eyes. His thumb ran down its edge.He tested its weight and swing. In his hand it was small, and it whistled as it cut the air.
He gave one nod. “None worse for the wear.”
After that he inspected my arrows, my quiver, my bow, and finally my knife. He spent a few minutes in his study with a small whetstone, sharpening the blade. The same blade I’d tried to kill him with.
I stood in the doorway. Some part of me wanted to object, and another part of me took pleasure in watching a man sharpen my blade like it was his own. He was doing everything he could. As would I.
Finally, it was time. We walked side by side through the hallway to the throne room. Just before we came onto the grand staircase, Dorian turned to me. His breath had quickened. “Eury…”
I waited, watching his agitation.
His hand came to rest on the balcony’s wooden edge. He closed his eyes and took a breath. “For what I did that night, when we attacked your kingdom, I didn’t…”
His breath seemed to die out. Or his will.
I held the silence, waited for him to continue, but he only turned away.
If we had been in the Eldermaze under that round moon, I would have asked him. I would speak. But he would not answer here, with Rhiannon below, with the citadel tight around us and a trial waiting.
So I remained silent.
Truth was, I didn’t know if I would ever forgive Dorian for what he’d done that night in the southern district. For stealing me away here. A part of me still hated him. But a part of me was his partner.
And it was that part of me who would match his step tonight.
When he’d collected himself, he gave a single nod and I fell in beside him. We moved in silence down those stairs toward the court’s crowds and its feral queen.
Dorian wasright about the spectacle. We stood amidst the whole of the Sylvanwild Court—more, even, than had been present at the start of the first trial—and every gaze seemed to scrape across me. Conversation and murmurs and whispers filled the room.
I was first out of the Eldermaze. The human who was supposed to be dead by now.
Those fae who’d lived through the maze didn’t look like the bright-eyed challengers I remembered from the night before the first trial. That night they’d stood straight, chests out, their eyes dancing over the crowd. Tonight, most of them stared vacant or hard-edged. One of the tall, bulky men had lost an ear and wore a bandage blotched dark where it used to be. One woman had cut her hair fully off and shaved her head until her scalp shone.
How many of them would be standing here now without the spiritstag’s intervention? I wondered how many would have lived at all. I wondered if, like Rhiannon, they suspected my role. I’d rather they call me pettifey than feel some obligation to gratitude.
On the dais, Rhiannon’s eyes were elsewhere. She stared ahead, that same gnarled scepter in hand. She’d wrapped herself in thick gray fur tied off at the waist with a belt, leaving flashes of her ample chest and thighs. She tapped the scepter three times quickly, and the room fell to silence.
“Welcome, Sylvanwild. And welcome to our young Sylvanwild fae—and human—returned from the maze.” Her hand swept out toward us. Now she graced us with her gaze. “Eighteen of you live to enter our second trial, which begins this night. I have visited the grove, and the spiritstag has told me its second challenge. It bid me gather you all for what comes next.”
For what comes…That phrase never lifted the heart. Apparentlynot among fae, either; renewed murmurs broke out, most of them with a downtilt to their voices.
