Page 301 of The Mortal Trials

Beside me, August watches himself play, and then looks at his mother.

She folded forward, fixed on every word. When he missed a chord, she blinked but quickly fell back under his spell.

A deep crease gradually spread between his mother’s brows.

I haven’t seen his father yet, but he has some of his mother’s features. Most prominently, her blue eyes. Hers are more glacial, but she gave him the depth and hue.

He finished the song and waited for her response. What do you think? his eyes asked.

She carefully put her embroidery on the table, then dragged tears from beneath her eyes. And finally, when she collected herself, told him, “It’s beautiful.”

“Thanks,” he breathed.

“August?” Her quavering voice cracked. His eyes rose to hers. “You can never sing that again.”

August’s head ticked back in surprise.

“Never again, August.” She stood and with a shuddering breath, left the room.

We follow her into the kitchen.

She poured a glass of water and stared out the window into the woods, one hand braced on the counter.

Her fear is a living thing. Even in this mirage, the emotion of that day is real.

A flood of quetzals shriek overhead, flying into the forest.

“We need to run!” August presses.

We leave his mother and home behind, starting down the trail that leads away from the house. As soon as we reach the pines, the scenery changes. Now we’re on the battlefield. In the middle of a bloody war.

I grip my spear. “Get your sword ready, just in case. I don’t trust them not to trick us.”

We’ve been through two mirages so far, but that doesn’t mean this is one.

I see myself in the distance. August freezes when he sees me, too.

I was fighting like hell with a dark-haired young man whose back was to us. He was physically bigger and stronger than me but his arms were weary. Every swing of his sword was slower than the last.

I remember thinking that I just needed to push him harder and get him to make a mistake. Find a way to end this fight so I could reach Niall.

My lover called for help again across the field.

“Why don’t you just give up? You’ve already lost the war!” the guy sneered.

My mouth falls open…because I know that voice. “Elias,” I breathe, jogging to where we grapple.

I try to block one of my blows to defend him from the strike warrior Callalie is about to make, but the spear does nothing.

In the next instant, I thrusted my battle sword into his body just under the breastbone where his silver scar lays.

Elias gasped as I pulled the blade out, his amber eyes wide.

And as blood poured from the wound, blossoming red over his stomach, Elias watched me run across the field, screaming Niall’s name.

Not even a moment later, a horn blew in the distance and I looked up to see Morrigan waving her white flag to concede. A single moment’s difference and I would have stopped fighting Elias, and I wouldn’t have hurt him at all.

The rules of war state that when the white flag flies, you put down your weapons.