‘He’ll never have you,’I told the sword silently, clutching her hilt.‘Even if I win, I’ll never give you up.’
I felt the answering hum of agreement ripple through her.
‘He wouldn’t be the first to think he could wield my power simply by winning the Arcane Trials,’she said.‘I choose my bonded. And I chose you.’
The words filled me with a fierce pride, like warm fire surging through my chest.
But Valkaryn wasn’t finished.
‘That being said, I wouldn’t rush to any conclusions on Kaelric Morvain. You have no idea what he’s dealing with.’
Morvain. She knew his last name? I scoffed and stepped back into the cabin, slipping under the covers with my back to the door.‘And you do?’
‘Yes. Unfortunately, I do.’
Confusion prickled beneath my skin.‘Then tell me. What’s he dealing with?’
‘He’ll tell you when he’s ready.’
That was the last thing she said before the door clicked again, and Kaelric stepped back into the room.
I kept my back to him, staring at the wall, every part of me tense.
Kaelric Morvain was a cocky, lying bastard, clearly plotting something. He wanted my sword, and he’d do anything to get it. I was about to enter the most dangerous competition of my life with someone I knew was against me. My stomach turned, and I swallowed back the nausea.
Kaelric’s voice came from behind me, low and unreadable: “Why is your heart rate up?”
I stiffened, pulse hammering faster. “Nightmare,” I mumbled.
It wasn’t that far from the truth.
Because the real nightmare… it was realizing that I was in this alone. Just me and Valkaryn. I couldn’t rely on Kaelric for anything.
Chapter Thirteen
The train landed in Steel Valley at the base of Steel Mountain, where the Arcane Trials were held. The locals were all miners and magicless, and didn’t seem to care about us as we unloaded from the train cars. The trials were held every five years. They were used to the charade for a few weeks, then everyone went back home, and they got back to their mining.
I peered up at the giant mountain in the distance, its jagged peak clawing at the heavens. It was said to be the birthplace of the Elite, the place where the Creator invented his most stunning creation.Magic. And every five years, it bloomed with another gift for whoever won the Arcane Trials, one lucky winner and their family.
I prayed that was me.
“A blossom for the radiant lady?” The flower seller, a wrinkled woman with silver-threaded braids and a crooked smile, sidled up beside Kaelric. She extended a single virellin bloom, its petals shimmering faintly like dew-kissed velvet, and motioned toward me.
Kaelric peered at me, reaching into his pocket as if he were about to pay for the bloom, and I scoffed.
“No, thank you,” I spat.
Kaelric glanced at me with an unreadable expression and handed the woman some coin anyway. “For you, my lady.” He bowed slightly to her, and she gave him a gap-toothed grin with several teeth missing.
What a phony. He pretended to be chivalrous, all while he was plotting to take my weapon by any means necessary.
We traveled by horse-drawn carriage to the arena, and when I stepped down onto the packed earth, I stood frozen, staring.
The stadium looming before me, massive and ancient, was carved directly into the foot of the mountain. Arched stone walls rose in layered tiers, each rimmed with jagged spires that caught the light like teeth. Weathered flags snapped in the wind from blackened iron poles, bearing the crests of fallen champions and long-dead houses.
The air smelled of dust and old magic, likesomething sacred and blood-soaked lingered here. I could almost hear echoes of screams.
The arena wasn’t warning us. Only one pair of us was walking out of here.
