“Your Majesty,” they say. “Before you depart, you must choose the one Champion whose gift displeased you.”
Ryker doesn’t hesitate. “Seraphina,” he barks, not even looking in our direction. He’s already walking away before the final syllable leaves his mouth.
I’ve won.
But a strange sadness washes over me as I look to the pillar beside mine.
Seraphina sinks to her knees, her chin dropping to her chest. Her arms hang limp at her sides. It’s as if all the strength drains from her body. And for a moment, she doesn’t look like a warrior at all. Just a girl who tried too hard to be everything her parents wanted her to be.
I climb down slowly. Kaelzar’s strong hands reach up to help me, and the moment my feet touch the ground, I stumble into him, straight into his chest.
The chains are fully gone, already pulled back into their ink-like form. I press into him hard, wrapping my arms around his broad shoulders. My body trembles with a strange mix of relief and dread. I don’t know what comes next, but for this moment, I’m safe.
His arms hold me tight, and his warm breath brushes against the top of my head.
“You’ve won, Trouble,” he murmurs, low and steady. “You’ve won.” Then, even softer, “Even if it didn’t feel like it.”
Leavingthe arena is far harder than entering it. The Sibyls pull me and Zyrel in opposite directions, and I lose sight of Seraphina almost instantly. My steps quicken as we near the open exit doors, until I see the crowd.
Dozens—no, hundreds—of people wait just beyond the threshold. Red scarves and pieces of material flash in the sun as they’re whipped from necks and arms, flung high into the air like ribbons of flame. They scream my name.
“Our ray of light! To the future!”
“To the future!”
“To the future!”
The chant rises around me. Not as eerily synchronized as the Sibyls, but somehow more powerful.
I swallow hard and my steps falter. Magic swells in my chest, thrumming beneath my skin, as if it recognizes something familiar. As if it knows these people are the reason it grows stronger. I scan the faces as we walk, spotting Micheline, who lingers behind the crowd, a red band around her head.
Her presence steadies me, and I eagerly search the people around her, but see no more familiar faces. Peonica would’ve teased me about the scarves, maybe cried a little and denied it afterward. I hope she’swatching through the Divinity Gazes. I hope she saw me win.
“Being worshipped suits you,” Kaelzar says beside me, grinning like a wolf.
“Apparently not enough to makeyouone of the worshippers,” I blurt out. And gods, it sounds worse out loud. “I meant with all your critiques of my skills and the constant brooding over how I should stop fearing my magic,” I mumble quickly.
His grin only deepens, ignoring everything except the part that amused him. “If worshipping is what my Champion requires, it is my duty?—”
I jab my elbow into his ribs. “How do we get through?” I nod toward the wall of bodies, the crowd pressing closer.
Kaelzar bows with theatrical flair. “As I was saying, your wish is my command.”
Ten blobs of shadow rise from the ground at his words, undulating and shifting until they take form: reptilian birds, as large as dogs, their shapes unstable but clearly dangerous. Beaks snap. Wings spike. The crowd gasps and begins to part.
Before I can panic, Kaelzar leans close. His breath brushes my ear, hot and teasing. “They won’t hurt anyone, Trouble,” he murmurs. “They’re yours to command. Just as I am.”
A shiver dances down my spine. I bite my lip, heat slamming into my face.
Gods, why does he always say things like that when I’m least prepared? There’s no hiding it, not with the sun so high and my face on fire.
I open my mouth to respond, maybe something clever, but all that comes out is a tiny, strangled laugh that sounds more like a hiccup. I clamp my mouth shut and look away, mortified.
True to his word, the shadow birds lower their heads as they gently herd people aside. Some back away in fear. Others reach out. Their fingers pass through the shadows, leaving curling wisps in the air.
I reach for Kaelzar’s hand, and he takes mine without hesitation. Together, we walk through the crowd. My crowd. Their cheers are deafening, their smiles radiant. Their hope, blinding. And somehow,it’s for me.
A cautious joy sparks in my chest, then flares into something wild and impossible to contain. I lift my hand and wave. I reach out and brush their palms. They aren’t afraid. Not of my blackened fingers, not of my red-streaked hair, or even Kaelzar’s shadows. We are their salvation.
