A flicker of pain passes across her face. ‘I did.’
‘Was she afraid?’
‘Yes. But I told her that true courage is born from great fear.’
‘And what about you?’ I say. ‘Were you afraid, Grandmother?’
She smiles slightly. ‘Terrified.’
Suddenly there’s a clattering in the reception room and Spinner comes racing through the doors. ‘Sorry I’m la– Oh. Hello. I mean, good morning, Lady Harglade.’
Grandmother gives her a curt nod. ‘Your services are not required today. I will ready my granddaughter for her trial.’
Spinner blinks, stooping into an awkward half-bow before shuffling out.
‘Incompetent girl,’ Grandmother mutters.
‘Harsh,’ I say. ‘Spinner’s nice. Not the best at timekeeping perhaps, but nice. Even you have to admire her taste.’ I gesture towards the rack of dresses but Grandmother pays them no attention.
‘Niceor not, Blaze, she’s still an Eye. I warned you about the Eyes before you left Harglade Hall.’
I take a sip of water, remembering her words.
The Eyes live by a code of secrecy and deceit. Why do you think they only wear Imperial gold and not their gift colour? It’s a disguise. And it is this act of concealing their powers that makes them dangerous.
Not for the first time, I find myself wondering which brandmark is concealed beneath Spinner’s golden glove, which element she secretly wields.
Grandmother reaches for her stick and stands, whipping back the bedsheets. ‘Up.’
Dread gnaws at me as I rise, wash and dress. There’s no such thing as coaxing with Grandmother – she practically shovels a bowl of oats down my throat before sitting me infront of the dressing table and braiding my hair back from my face.
‘Can’t you just tell them I’ve got the flu or something?’ I ask hopefully.
A hairpin jabbing into my scalp is the only response I get.
I gaze out at Cor Caval sprawling beneath me, glittering in the sunlight. Far beyond in the distance, the Rift gapes wide and empty, encircling it all.
‘Did you give your name to the Riftkeeper?’ I ask Grandmother.
She straightens the collar of my tunic. ‘I didn’t need to. He knows it well.’
Rather than taking me to the entrance hall, Grandmother leads me down into the very depths of the palace. I want to ask where we’re going but my throat feels as though it’s collapsed in on itself, my voice box reduced to rubble. Torches in brackets along the walls illuminate the winding passageways, each one burning more fiercely as Grandmother passes by.
Eventually I hear voices up ahead. Grandmother clasps my shoulder, turning me round to face her. She’s surprisingly strong for somebody who requires a stick to walk.
‘Listen to me,’ she says. ‘You can do this. You can.’ She takes my hand, lifts my chin. ‘Stand up straight, my darling one.’
Then she’s gone, disappearing back the way we came.
Alator is waiting with the rest of the Heirs at the end of the passageway. I count them as I approach. Four Ignitia. Four Ventalla. And as of now, four Aquatori. Only three Terrathian. With or without the missing Heir, the Choosing is going ahead. Whoever they are, it appears they’re too late.
When I reach the group, Alator explains that we’re making our way to the Keep through the ancient evacuation tunnels used when the palace was under siege. I watch in astonishment as a concealed door swings open at the touch of his hand.
Several of the Heirs make attempts at conversation, but most remain silent. Elaith mutters quietly to herself as we walk, and even Cole seems uncertain, last night’s bravado replaced by a clenched jaw. Flint meanwhile looks positively carefree, his arms swinging loosely at his sides. As for me, I’m just trying to hold on to the contents of my stomach.
Kai falls into step beside me. ‘How’re you feeling?’
Like I’m going to throw up on your shoes.
