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I half turn to discover a Cup standing in the middle of the courtyard with a copper ring on his right thumb. The man is taller than most of the champions, with light brown skin, broad shoulders, and a mass of dark curly hair that he keeps away from his face with a woven headband of copper. He’s wearing a flowing robe of navy and teal, the design deceptively simple. I think it might be silk; it certainly moves like water itself.

He smiles at us, radiating warmth. “While I’m sure you’re all acquainted with the rules of the Tarot Trials, I hope you’ll forgive me for offering a reminder. You’re more than welcome to familiarize yourself with your respective temples, but please don’t enter any temple devoted to another god. They … dislike such trespass.”

The warning rouses my curiosity. What happens if a champion enters a temple that isn’t theirs? I assumed the Minor Court would have people stationed around the island to ensure the rules are followed, but this Cup makes it sound like the gods Themselves will enforce this particular rule.

He turns a little, easily encompassing all the champions in his speech. “Everyone must be in their god’s temple before the Sun sets. They will grant you their blessing, however much or little they feel you deserve, and then the Tarot Trials will begin. As a reminder, you must return to your temple every morning by the sixth strike and attend the events the Minor Courts have planned to celebrate you every afternoon. No violence can be enacted from sunrise to sunset. Violations of these rules are grounds for immediate expulsion from the Trials and expulsion is … violent. I do not recommend breaking the rules.” He gives a great booming laugh that invites us to laugh alongside him. No one does.

I chose to become champion of the Moon in these Trials, knowing what the rules and consequences are, and I would do it again in a heartbeat, but there’s something gross about how entertained this Cup seems to find the idea that so many of the people standing in this courtyard will die—violently.

He spreads his arms wide. “In the meantime, please enjoy the refreshments we’ve provided at your leisure.”

The archway to the Moon’s temple and the darkness within call to me. My mother walked through that door. She offered up something the Moon found worthwhile. There might still be evidence of her there, something left behind of the woman I never got a chance to know. There might be answers.

But the table the Cup indicated is piled high with more food than I’ve ever seen. More food than even twenty-two people could eat in a single sitting. Even as I tell myself not to, I drift closer to the table. The other champions range out around me, some going directly to the food and some already chatting with others. The alliances from the carriages seem like they may hold. No one has broken ranks yet.

The breeze shifts and the smells hit me hard enough that I have to fight down a whimper. My stomach is a hard knot of hunger, the grumbling so regular I’m usually able to tune it out. I’m not tuning out much of anything right now. The grumble becomes a roar.

The only thing stopping me from falling onto the available food is the knowledge that I’ll be fighting for my life in a few short hours. I can’t afford to be sick from gluttony after too long spent starving.

Old habits die hard. I can’t make myself walk up and fill a plate like some of the others are doing. Instead, I dart forward and snatch a loaf of fluffy bread and a piece of meat dripping juices. My hands shake as I dance back, fully expecting someone to yell or yank the food from my hands.

Instead, I’m met with … laughter.

I turn to find the Star watching me, her hand pressed to her mouth and her eyes dancing. “Darling, there’s no need for dramatics here. There’s plenty to go around.” Her pale gaze drifts over my body. “Though a bath wouldn’t go amiss.”

My face flames, but I fight to keep my expression composed. “See you tonight, Star.”

She laughs. “I suppose we’ll see, won’t we?” She turns back to the Chariot and says something that makes his gaze flick to me. If her attention is the buzzing of gnats, his is like being doused in ice. Cold and dangerous.

I flee. The arch of the Moon’s temple is blessedly cool, and I tuck myself into one of the nooks so I can tear through the food I grabbed. The meat—some kind of beef, I think?—is so tender it practically dissolves on my tongue. Beef is a rarity in the Dregs, and even when we get it, it’s in jerky form, preserved to be able to last an eternity. I know plenty of people who have lost teeth on the stuff. We don’t have pasturelands in Caelria, so all the meat is imported along the river from Grexium. Which means it’s expensive.

This is what the Minor Court eat while my littles starve.

That thought slows me down. I take a cautious bite of the bread, nearly moaning at how fluffy and warm it is. My stomach threatens to cramp from even this small amount of food, so I regretfully tuck the rest of the loaf under my arm to eat later. The day is more than half over, and there’s no guarantee we’ll have another feast laid out for us before the killing starts.

One last look around the courtyard shows several of the champions—including Vesper, who no doubt had a full breakfast before volunteering as the champion of the Wheel of Fortune—stepping through their respective temples’ doorways and disappearing into the shadows within. No reason to waste more time. I don’t give myself a chance to feel nerves. I simply walk through the arch and into the darkness of the temple.

I stop short almost immediately, holding myself perfectly still as I wait for my eyes to adjust. There’s no light in this relatively small space; even the afternoon Sun doesn’t seem to penetrate the shadows here. “Interesting.”

The room is perfectly circular despite the outside being square, curved walls leading up to a large arched dome with a seam at the top as if it can part. A small circular divot in the center of the room is the only break in an otherwise open space. Opposite the archway is a round table—an altar—with a pair of sickles crossed on top of it.

I walk over and examine them. They’re not shaped quite the same as sickles I’ve seen in the past, made from metal imported from Perphodia’s mines and shaped by Diamond blacksmiths before they’re shipped off to Grexium in the east. These blades are even more violently curved than the ones meant for harvest, with a slightly ridged edge that makes my muscles clench in an instinctive desire to protect my soft parts.

“There is time before the Sun sets.” The voice seems to come from everywhere and nowhere, its tone even and almost peaceful. “You may rest here in the meantime if you wish, Kestrel.”

I startle and turn a quick circle. There’s no one here. At least no one I can see. “You know me?”

“The Moon has seen your actions under Their light … and Their darkness.”

That’s not really an answer, but the small hairs rise on the back of my neck all the same. I scrub my hand over them. There’s probably a priest with a sense of theatrics hidden in a dark corner. I don’t see anyone as I survey the space, but that doesn’t mean anything. My mother told Mouse there are rooms below the main temple, so there’s more here than I can detect at first glance.

Going back out into the harsh Sun and having to meet the gazes of people I fully intend to kill once the Trials begin holds little appeal, so I move to the divot in the center of the room and sit in it, crossing my legs easily and holding the bread in my lap. It’s kind of nice in here. Dusty, yes. Neglected, definitely. But a soft peace settles more firmly over me with each deep breath I take.

“I’m here.” Inhale. Exhale. “I made it.”

The true test will start soon, but I allow myself a moment to study the temple. This is the first time I’ve occupied the same space my mother did since I was a babe in her arms. Before the Trials, we lived in a different part of the Dregs, against the east wall of the city, next to the Ruby District. After she died, Mouse moved us to the west, worried that the treason tainting her memory might mean the Wands would come looking for anyone connected to her.

There’s no evidence of her here, but that doesn’t stop me from feeling closer to her. She might have sat in this exact spot, waiting for the Sun to set, and dreamed of a better Caelria. A fairer one. A city where her daughter could grow up, safe and with the same opportunities children in the guild districts get. A chance to determine her own destiny, instead of being forced into more and more desperate actions to keep herself and her chosen family alive.