Still, when I reached the wooden lookout to which the rope was fastened, I hesitated. Cold sweat broke out across my brow when I accidentally looked down and Viljan stood there, his back straight and eyes on me—like they always were, because my father had asked it of him, despite what I’d just done.
“You’ve made a lot of enemies in your days here, heir.” Darcke’s breath hit my neck as I held on to the topmast when the lookout swayed in the wind. “Probably wasn’t the wisest to sever the bond with your guard.”
I savored the needles of unshaved wood that pricked my palms, using the pain to distract myself.
“He needed to know his place,” I replied, my words as hollow as my heart.
“And what place is that?” Darcke asked. “The dirt? Like the whole world was built to be trodden under your boots?”
There was something comforting—familiar—in the disgust that speared his words. I leaned into that as the wind took hold of the lookout, making the entire mast sway with its strength.
The other heirs all stood on their own lookouts, their faces varying shades of worry.
Darcke laughed darkly when I didn’t say anything else.
“Heirs,” he called, nearly jarring me off the wooden platform. “If you survive the Hird, you will lead your people into battle. These ropes symbolize the balance that responsibility will ask of you—that there is a fine line between a hero’s bravery and a fool’s drowning.” He gave me a side-eyed sneer. “Remember, courage is a choice, but recklessness is a death sentence.”
Darcke waved for his men to file out onto the lookouts of the other ships. “The exercise is also one you might face when taking on your enemies at sea. Being able to walk the ropes between ships is as important as holding your blade steady.” He nudged me forward. “The Sweengard heir has volunteered to demonstrate.”
Only days ago his wicked smile would have made me shake in my boots, but after seeing Viljan’s face earlier, I welcomed it. Darcke’s hate was my only constant, and somehow it steadied me.
“On each of these lookouts is a horn.” Darcke lifted a white horn that still held the scent of the beast who’d died for it. “Your challenge is simple. You need to cross one of these ropes and grab the horn from one of my men’s lookouts. After that you’re to return here to blow it in victory.”
I swallowed as the ropes shifted in the wind, each one whipping the air, a dark line against the gray sky above us. Beneath them was dark water and polished decks—neither of which would aid me if I fell. Bones would break either way.
“This should be easy for you,” Darcke said as he gestured for me to pull myself onto the lower rope, using the top one to guidemy hands and the bottom to shuffle my feet forward. “You’re strong enough to hold on.”
“Is that why you hate me?” I snapped, as my soul twisted and turned in dread. “Because you’re jealous of my magic?”
It went quiet for long seconds.
“No.” Darcke turned his face toward the sea. “I hate you because you keep proving me right.”
Wetness touched my cheek. At first I thought the tears I’d fought earlier had escaped me, but then I realized clouds had mounted above us. Trickling down my face were heavy raindrops, and I jolted when lightning crackled across the sky.
The strain in the air was joined by static, and my hair flew around my face as I inched out on the rope, the bottom one already slick from water and the top coarse as it scratched against my palms.
“Look at that,” Darcke said. “Your gods wish to have a little fun as well. Now go on. Show them howhonorableyou are.”
“I hate you too,” I hissed, my throat drying up as my foot slipped. “I hate you so fucking much.”
Darcke fucking patted my back. “I’m sure I’ll survive.”
I didn’t turn, but I could almost hear the deadly grin spreading over his face.
Someone beneath me gasped as a gust of wind caught in my clothing, making both me and the sail behind me shift, the loud crack in the air like a whip. My stomach turned when I did, and I had to swallow vomit that wanted to spew out of me.
More rain started pouring, and I cursed wildly as it found its way inside my leathers, drenching my hair and obscuring my vision. The gale shrieked as it tore around me, and my arms trembled from the exertion to hold on as I slipped once more, my feet dangling in the air.
“Elvara, you got this!” Ivren called.
I closed my eyes when other shouts followed.
“Or not!” someone screamed.
“Why don’t you fall and make all this easier for yourself?”
“Look at this storm! The gods are showing you that they don’t want you!”
