‘He wanted me to wish you luck, too.’
It’s like a punch to the throat. That even now, on the most important day of my life, my father cannot bring himself towrite, let alone be in the same room as me. I glance atSpinner, who’s pretending not to listen as she weaves my curls into two intricate braids. My hair is my mother’s hair, thick and dark. She always wore hers unbound and that’s why I began braiding mine back in the weeks following her death, so as to avoid the agony in my father’s eyes. But I’ve realized that it doesn’t matter how I style my hair, nor that I am forever dressed in blue instead of red, because he will never be able to look at me and not seeher. Just as he will never be able to look at his youngest child and not see her blood on his hands. We are painful for him, Renly and I. And I’m tired of it.
I can’t help that I remind him of my mother. I can’t help that I look like her. Iwantto look like her.
‘Leave it down,’ I say suddenly. ‘My hair.’
Spinner nods, shaking my hair free from its braids until it frames my face.
Flint smiles. ‘There she is,’ he says, squeezing my shoulder.
The Imperial Guard are stationed around the Heirs’ tents. We cannot leave to watch the trials, we must stay here until we are called for our own. I sit in my tent with Grandmother and River, not saying much, listening to the roar of the crowd. Minutes trickle by, each one stealing a part of me – my nerve, my ability to breathe, the feeling in my legs.
This time there are no beasts to defeat, no riddles to solve. The third trial is one of combat, a battle between the two remaining Heirs from each court. The battle ends only when one of the Heirs concedes, or is too incapacitated to go on.
The Ventalla are up first. Zephyr and Eriq fight for a long time, and after what feels like hours the emperor’svoice booms out across the stands, freakishly amplified, announcing Zeph as the winner. I remember what Queen Hydra said about the Ventalla having a means of travel similar to water portals, only using the air.Flitting, she had called it. I wonder if Zeph has mastered this particular skill, whether King Balen had taught him.
It’s not long before the Terrathian Heirs are called.
There’s a scuffling noise over to my right and I turn to find Spinner crawling under the bottom of the tent on her stomach.
‘You don’t want to miss this,’ she says, panting. ‘Come on.’
I glance at Grandmother and River.
My trainer half smiles. ‘We didn’t see anything.’
‘Be careful,’ Grandmother adds, as I let my chaperone drag me unceremoniously underneath the tent.
‘Take this,’ says Spinner, draping a golden shawl over my hair like a headscarf. ‘We have to stay out of sight.’
I follow her into the stands, which are so impossibly large they seem to climb high into the clouds. The base of the amphitheatre in the centre is crammed with onlookers standing shoulder to shoulder, jostling one another for a better view. Everyone seems far too preoccupied with the first Terrathian Heir’s arrival to give either Spinner or me a second glance as we elbow our way through them towards the front.
Amaryllis is smiling and waving at the crowd, but I’m close enough to see that her legs are trembling. It’s little wonder really, given who she’s about to fight.
He takes his time. He knows how to make an entrance, I’ll give him that, and when he does stride out into the amphitheatre, the crowd goes wild.
Fox smiles lazily, and it’s alarming the way I can no longer find any trace of the boy who offered me a basketful of kittens for my little brother, or who so carefully tended to Elva while asking for nothing in return. No, that boy is long gone. He has been replaced with a boy I know all too well – one who is arrogant and violent and cruel.
The Earth Cleaver.
I watch as he circles Amaryllis, sizing her up. I lift my head to where Hal, his father and the Crowned Council are sitting apart from the crowd on golden thrones.
The emperor gets slowly to his feet. ‘Terrathian Heirs, let the third trial begin.’
Immediately Amaryllis springs to life. She raises her arms, and small pebbles in the grass begin to grow into boulders the size of cannonballs. One by one, they launch themselves through the air directly at Fox. It’s almost amusing – the careless way he sidesteps them. Amaryllis tries again and again, and each time Fox avoids the stones with ease, the crowd erupting in delight.
Abandoning the boulders, Amaryllis chooses her next weapon. The grass around Fox grows as high as his head, concealing him from sight. I gasp, convinced she’s managed to entangle him, but barely a moment later the thick blades fall into a limp pile, as though somebody has sliced them in half with a scythe.
‘Why isn’t he fighting back?’ I whisper to Spinner.
But then I realize. He’s toying with her. Letting her lay all her cards out on the table in full view, waiting for the right moment to break the table in two.
Fox delicately picks a blade of grass off his shoulder andlets it fall to the ground just as Amaryllis makes her next move. Spinner grabs hold of my arm as Fox is surrounded by an impenetrable wall of thorned branches, each one twisted and lethal.
All of a sudden the branches begin to quiver then snap. Thorns as long as my finger fly through the air and Amaryllis screams in pain as they meet their mark. Blood streams down her cheeks like tears.
Fox holds out his arms and brings them slowly upward. The crowd gasp as two gigantic trees erupt out of the earth.
