I call for help, but no one comes. I run back to the table, pick up a knife and wedge it between the doors, but nothing happens. I kick the doors hard and then clutch my foot, wincing. The pain gives me some clarity and I return to my chair.
The wine – it was drugged. It must have been. But why? What possible reason would the Council have fordruggingus? And where is everyone?
I screw up my eyes. The fog clouding my mind reminds me of the painkiller I was given after the first trial.
Just then, a soft whisper slinks through the haze.
To you, my young friends. May you continue to shineas brightly in your second trials as you each did in your first.
No.Not now. Not like this. There’s still a week to go. A whole week. Thiscan’tbe my second trial. Can it?
As if in answer, the room starts filling with water.
Cursing, I climb on to a chair. The Aquatori might be nicknamed Fish, but that doesn’t mean we have gills. We can still drown, just like anybody else. Perhaps they plan to unleash another beast for me to fight, some kind of sea creature this time? My insides twist like snakes. If there’s any of that wine left in my system, I think I’m about to throw it up.
Think, Blaze, I order myself.Concentrate.
Water laps at the hem of my dress. It’s rising fast. Too fast. I have to stop it, and the only way is to freeze it.
Closing my eyes, I reach inwards for that cold shard of fury lodged deep inside my chest. I think of Ember tripping me up in front of everyone. I think of the Council tricking us into drinking wine laced with sleeping potion, inviting us here under false pretences. I think of Cole, his casual cruelty towards Elaith, the way she had folded in on herself, crumpled …
There’s a crackling sound as the surface of the rapidly rising water begins to solidify, a layer of ice spreading around my feet. I step up on to the table.
The water is freezing. It’s working.It’s working.
It’s not working.
The flow is increasing, fresh water breaking through the sheet of ice. I gather up my skirts and try to think. Rain won’t help, clearly. As for waves, I don’t see what use theywould be, either. Surely they would just make things worse. Unless … My eyes tilt upward. Hanging above my head is a gigantic chandelier.
I must be mad, I think, as I prepare to jump off the table.
I am mad, I think, as I jump off the table.
I plummet, crash, sink, then drag myself upward until I break the surface. The water is neither hot nor cold – it’s like it’s the same temperature as the room. No, not the room. It seems to be the same temperature as myskin. Shuddering, I flip on to my back and float for a moment, weighed down by my dress.
Happiness. I try to find it.
I think about Renly surprising me in this very banquet hall after weeks apart. About Hal kissing me under the soft glow of a miniature sun. About how, after years of drizzle and emptiness, I know what it is to feel, to have courage, to havefriends.
Small waves begin to curl and break. I twist round and tread water, still concentrating on that warm glow inside my chest, letting it wash over me. All around, the water is writhing, the waves growing stronger, rising higher. I duck beneath the surface as a gigantic wave looms over me, bracing myself as it comes crashing down. I swim up and try again. Another monstrous wave swells, but it’s not close enough for me to catch it.
The candles are starting to flicker out, the room growing steadily dimmer.
I try once more, and this time it works. The wave envelops me, the sheer force of it knocking the remaining breath from my lungs as it sweeps me upward in a great, churning arc.I ride the wave to its apex and, with a strangled scream, launch myself at the chandelier.
There is a moment in which everything hangs in the balance.
A breath, a heartbeat, and then my hand closes round solid gold.
I hold on tight, gasping at the wrenching in my shoulder joint as my arm takes the full force of my weight. The chandelier is huge, suspended from the ceiling by a thick golden chain.
I start moving in jerking motions, like a fish out of water, kicking my legs back and forth until I manage to hook one foot over the lowest tier. I dangle for a moment, panting, gathering enough strength to heave myself up.
Sitting astride the chandelier, I stare down at the rising water. Chairs and debris from the banquet table float atop its surface, lit up by the few remaining candles.
Now what?I think, pushing a dripping strand of hair off my face. I’ve bought myself time, but to what end?
That’s when I hear it.
