The wolves leap up over platforms, twisting mid-air to allow their riders clean shots. The riders demonstrate intense focus.
I can tell that they’re ready for every twitch in their wolves’ flanks, every drop and jump and turn.
Of course, there are failures, too. Spectacular,messyfailures, just like Aldrich warned.
One wolf miscalculates a jump. I don’t know whether it was the wolf’s fault or whether its rider guided it incorrectly over the challenge before them, but the result is that the two of them tumble together through the air.
They fall, writhing for handholds that aren’t there.
The rider’s scream is piercing but cut short by his impact against the ground. His wolf lands on top of him, killing him instantly. It howls in pain, maybe because its rider has died or maybe because it’s injured itself in the fall.
Another pair visibly argues as they cross the narrow bridge above the flames. The rider shouts something aloud, and her wolf turns around and snaps at her mid-stride. The wolf’s ferocity—or maybe just its stubbornness—causes it to crash headlong into a fire pit, some of its fur catching fire and its rider shrieking with fear.
Izabel navigates the course easily, not that it’s surprising. Henrey makes it through, too, though he’s significantly slower than some of the other riders. Tomison’s time is particularly impressive.
I’m sure I’ll be hearing about it later. If I’m still alive.
Stark probably traversed this obstacle course in less than three seconds in his Trials, I think bitterly.The bastard.
My turn comes too soon. My name is barked out from the dark, and I step towards Anassa, bracing for the usual stab of pain from the wall between us. But it doesn’t come.
I look up at her as I approach and find her already staring at me, silver fur shimmering and gaze steady. She doesn’t look away. When I tentatively reach out mentally, I don’t sense the vicious scrape of claws or the icy cold of her disdain.
The wall has thinned, turned slightly glassy. It’s still cold and unforgiving, but I can almost make out flashes through the barrier. Like a wall of ice, strange distortions of impressions and instincts flickering through in a dance of light over my mind.
I mount her as smoothly as I can, very aware that every eye in the arena is on me right now.
Anassa strides forward, stalking towards the beginning of the course. The first challenge is simpler than the rest, composedof three ascending platforms, each smaller than the previous. It requires careful, precise jumps.
Not a single pair has failed this part yet, and I hope we’re not going to be the first.
I tighten my grip on Anassa’s fur, winding a bit of it around my hand to ensure that even if my body flies off of her back, I’ll still be able to hold on and scramble back up. I prepare myself for the chaos, expecting Anassa to do whatever she wants here, screw the rider she carries on her back.
Then I sense a flash. It’s brief, so quick I’m not sure it wasn’t just a panic-induced hallucination. But as Anassa’s muscles tighten and ready, I know it was real.
It felt like a vision of the future, almost. She’s shown me the exact path she means to take to climb the platforms—where she’s going to land, the rhythm of her jumps, the speed at which she’ll move through it all.
I’m ready for it when she moves, my mind seizing the information she’s given me and calculating how I need to hold myself to keep steady. I change my angle, grinding my foot into place to support my weight. When she starts to move, I lean into it.
One jump, shift my weight to the left. The second, the turnaround for this one is fast. I tense my core and grit my teeth, leaning forward to counter the lurch of motion from her ascent.
The last jump, I know she’s going to land hard. I tighten my legs and push back with my hands to counter the impact.
Anassa doesn’t stop. She hurtles on to the next obstacle, and I can sense her intention. She wants to win, to prove herself the strongest of the pack, to crush anyone who would challenge her.
For the first time since we met, our feelings align.
I want to succeed. I don’t give a shit about being Bonded, or rising through the ranks. But I want to prove myself.
No, even more than that: I want to embarrass the people who’ve dismissed me from the start. I want my victory to sting them as fiercely as my injuries do every night when Anassa refuses to heal them.
I want the power I know I have to carry me through.
The second challenge is the bridge. It’s barely wide enough for a wolf’s paws, but Anassa’s calm, predator’s mind is undaunted. She advances without hesitation, feet pounding, huffing breaths into the cold air.
Fire briefly blinds my eyes, but her mind inspires me to lean into the sting of the smoke. My ambition materializes and runs alongside her, just as vicious and determined.
This is where those predisposed to failure faltered. Their communication gave out under the pressure—the bright flames, the targets popping up at dizzying speed, the narrowness of the bridge.
