“Turns out he’s not married.”
The sentence only made sense to Calla, who promptly burst into giggles. I shoved Quinn with my shoulder, and he rolled his eyes and tucked me up under his arm again.
“It’s going to take forever for us all to be tested,” Calla said, stretching her arms overhead and yawning. She wore a sleeveless top stitched from scraps of vivid pink and gold, paired with deep purple trousers tucked into battered boots. She twirled, as graceful and light on her feet as if she might lift into the air at any moment. “And wasn’t that serpent shadow this morning the freakiest thing?”
I nodded, thoughterrifyingfelt more apt. “What do you think the trial is going to be?”
Her mouth curved in a grin that was half mischief, half dare. “Whatever it is, I can’t wait.”
“I’m more afraid of sparring with her again than this test,” Quinn said, his voice laced with dry amusement.
I smothered a smile.
“It has to start soon,” Quinn went on, shielding his eyes to squint at the sun. “It’s almost noon. If they keep us standing heremuch longer, someone’s going to start a riot.” He shot Calla a look. “Probably you.”
She chuckled, like the idea pleased her.
It was the last thing I heard before the Arena, and all the calamity around it, vanished.
—
I stood alone.
Craning my neck, I took in the cavern around me, the air thick with heat and laced with something ancient. The chamber seemed to stretch endlessly, its vaulted ceiling lost in darkness.
“Hello?”
My voice went nowhere. I tried to sing or shout or scream—nothing.
Flame?
She couldn’t hear me—or if she could, she couldn’t respond.
I breathed slowly, trying to keep the fear from stealing my focus.
There is light in every darkness.I sought Edith’s familiar words as I stepped deeper into the endless chamber.
Before me, an enormous cauldron appeared, boiling over a roaring inferno, its surface bubbling with something thick and acrid. The scent was a sharp mix of charred metal and the unmistakable tang of blood.
The iron sides of the cauldron bore two words:RemorseandResolve.
Underneath the words, symbols flickered across the metal, appearing and vanishing like phantoms. I watched, transfixed, as a story unfolded in the molten glow. Shapeshifters shifted between flesh and fur, tygers reared in battle, a phoenix erupted into flames before twisting into the form of a dragon, a tortoise intertwined with a serpent.
A voice, deep and resonant, thundered through the chamber.
Behold your past. Embrace it if you dare.
Then, slowly, the iron went blank. A shudder ran through me. Did others see their past reflected here? Their triumphs and sins?
For me, the iron held no history. No name. No past.
There were no instructions given, only the sudden pressing need to touch the cauldron. To place my hand against the burning metal and brand my skin.
The whispers began. Ghostly, fragmented voices pressed against my mind, curling around the edges of my thoughts like smoke.
I couldn’t hear what they were saying. But I could feel.
I had loved. And I had been loved.
