I spend my dreams drowning, and I wake to find my brandmark still glowing.
32
The final two Heirs from every court were announced last night.
Zephyr made it through, along with a boy called Eriq from the Court of Wind. Elaith couldn’t figure out her riddle and was forced to concede, which left Flint, to my delight, and Ember, to my horror. Fox and Amaryllis are the Terrathian Heirs. They say the Earth Cleaver leaped like some kind of animal from tree to tree, that he felt a tremor in their roots before the ground gave way. And as for the Aquatori, Kai swallowed several mouthfuls of water early on and almost drowned, leaving Marina and me to vie for Queen Hydra’s crown.
I have a month to prepare to fight her.
One final battle stands between me and the throne. I can’t seem to wrap my head around it. I never expected to make it this far. And now I don’t know how to feel.
Victorious – that I managed to succeed, against all odds?
Or terrified – that whatever its outcome, the third trial will shape my entire future?
Just like the first trial was designed to test our courage, it seems the second trial was designed to test our minds.Time was a factor in each, with the Ventalla facing rapidly thinning air, the Ignitia an encroaching wall of flame, the Terrathian unsteady ground and the Aquatori rising water. Each trial was difficult. Each was dangerous. The Council really knows how to play the game. But then it’s easy to play the game when you make the rules.
‘Blaze, it’s almost time.’ Spinner appears by my side, tongue between her teeth as she assesses every last detail of her handiwork. ‘I must say, I really have outdone myself.’ She shoots me an impish grin, nudging me towards the mirror.
My reflection is of a stranger. For tonight I am not Blaze the Aquatori Heir, or Blaze the Rain Singer, or even Blaze the Storm Weaver.
I am Blaze the Eye.
My eyelids, lips and cheekbones have been dusted with glittering golden powder. Elva has threaded gold beads through my curls, some of which frame my face, while the rest are piled up on top of my head in a popular Imperial style. A pair of dark-gold gloves conceals the telltale gleam of my brandmark, and as for the dress … I run a hand wonderingly over the fabric. Light as air, it ripples and flutters with every slight movement. And that’s not all. The dressglows. It’s as though I am wearing a thousand flakes of gently glimmering sunlight, each one woven together like golden scales.
Tonight is the masquerade ball. The entire palace will be in attendance. But here’s the catch: for one night, everyone – every king, queen, Heir and courtier – will be dressed in gold. It’s tradition, a display of loyalty to the future emperor, a means of showing him, showingHal, that no matter which court we belong to, the Etheri stand united under one rule andbend the knee to one leader, above all else. Yet what with their inexhaustible penchant for parties, the Imperial Court have found a way to make this show of allegiance into a pageant of their own. Namely, a ball. One that requires a disguise. Tonight, you can shed your colour and step out of yourself.
Tonight, I can be anyone I choose.
‘And now for the finishing touch,’ announces Spinner, producing an ornate golden mask and slipping it over my eyes.
It’s shaped like a dragonfly, the slender body stretching from just above my hairline to the tip of my nose. I peer at myself through small holes cut into its wings, which span the width of my head and more, each one speckled with tiny pearls, sapphires and amethysts.
It’s beautiful. More than beautiful – it’s a work of art.
‘I found it on your dressing table,’ says Spinner. ‘Along with this.’ She reaches down the front of her dress and pulls out a slightly crumpled note. It’s almost identical to the one that accompanied the burn ointment. Two words, the penmanship lazy and looping.
For you.
My heart leaps into my throat. Could it be from Hal? But then, why the secrecy? And why does he continue to send me gifts when he’s promised to another?
I feel a knot in the pit of my stomach every time I’m reminded of it.
‘He must like you very much, you know.’ Spinner winks at me before breezing past towards the door. ‘I’m off to find your brother. Flint seems in need of a goodchaperoning.’
I pretend to gag. Then I slip the note underneath my pillow and follow her.
The palace is awash with noise and excitement, and I let myself be swept along by a sea of Eyes, their faces concealed by masks: some big, some modest, some ridiculously flamboyant. One girl is wearing a golden headdress that creates the impression of a lion’s mane. Nobody gives me a second glance and I relish it, this feeling of anonymity. It’s a taste of the future I’d always planned for myself. Nameless. Free. I only wish it could last.
Spinner and I squeeze into the largest ballroom, skirting the perimeter until I catch sight of a shock of flame-red hair. Elaith looks dazzling in a skin-tight golden jumpsuit. Even in perilously high heels, she still looks tiny standing next to two others I realize upon closer inspection are Flint and Sheen, who appear to be engaged in some kind of disagreement. Kai must still be recovering from the second trial.
‘You took your time,’ says Elaith, leaning in to embrace me.
‘I’m sorry,’ I murmur into her hair. She knows I’m not referring to my lateness.
‘Don’t be,’ she whispers back. ‘It’s their loss, of course. But I’m fine, really.’
When I pull back, I can see in her eyes that she means it.
