Chapter 11
ISI
Nia and the other wardens strode out of the archways, where they must’ve been waiting for Malcolm’s signal.
Her mouse bobbed on her shoulder, clinging to her blue tunic with its tiny claws, its gray fur blending with her shoulder-length hair.
The tiny beast’s whiskers twitched as its black eyes swept over the recruits trying not to look as terrified as they felt.
The scent of fear-sweat mixed with the lingering breakfast smells clinging to our clothing, and the bread and cheese I’d eaten sat heavy in my belly.
Nia stopped in front of our group, her attention falling briefly on me with what I swore was a speculative lift of her brow. Did she know about what happened last night? The body was gone this morning, and I wasn’t going to ask who’d disposed of it.
“Eight groups,” Nia said, her voice carrying the kind of authority that would not stand for argument. “Follow your assigned guide, which is me. Stay with your team. Do not deviate from the route.”
Each word dropped into the silence like a blade finding flesh.
Bryson stepped forward, his broad shoulders squared in the posture of a man accustomed to command, his dark shaved head gleaming in the torchlight.
“Can you give us more details about what we can expect in the trial? Any guidance on terrain, duration, or the specific challenges we might face? My prior commander experience suggests—”
Nia’s gray eyes fixed on him with the kind of look that could freeze blood in the heat of summer. Her mouse’s whiskers stopped twitching, as if even the tiny creature scented the danger in the air.
“Get back with the others.”
Her dismissal cut through Bryson’s stern demeanor. His jaw tightened, the muscle jumping beneath his skin. For a heartbeat, I saw the man who’d led troops and expected his questions to be answered with respect. But that man held no power here.
He retreated to our cluster, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides.
“So much for gathering intelligence,” one of my teammates, Maddox, muttered, his voice carrying far enough for a few people in the group next to ours to hear and look his way.
The sharp crack of his knuckles punctuated each word, a nervous habit that seemed to have gotten worse since we arrived at the castle.
His sandy hair fell across his forehead as he studied me with intense brown eyes, as if he was searching for something he expected to find but hadn’t quite grasped yet. The small scar through his left eyebrow gave his face a permanent expression of skepticism.
“Do not try my patience.” Nia pivoted and strode through an archway, taking a left this time instead of a right.
We trailed behind her into a stone-arched corridor that was no different from the one we’d walked through to our dormitory.
Torches flickered in iron sconces, our boots echoing like a funeral march. The corridors sloped steadily downward, tapestries giving way to bare stone, then moss and thick vines clawing through cracked walls.
Water dripped somewhere ahead, each hollow ping marking time until we reached whatever waited below. The air tasted like earth and decay.
One of my teammates, Kerralyn, walked beside me, her auburn braid swinging as she matched my pace. Her violet eyes held the same nervous brightness they had last night when she’d sat on her bed, furiously scribbling in a leather journal by torchlight.
I’d wondered what she was recording, what patterns she might believe she’d found in our first day among these people who called magic a blessing instead of a curse.
“Are you afraid?” she whispered.
“I am.” From the shaky hands and spiraling eyes of my group, I suspected we all were.
“Me too, but I’ve been watching. There’s a pattern to everything here.”
She reminded me of Addie when my sister was younger, before life taught her that kindness often claimed a blood price.
She hugged her journal. “I’m determined to think this through. Logic, analysis, and careful observation will be enough. I notice things.”
“Such as?”
“You’re different from the rest.”
The word lodged in my throat like a boulder.
“You’re always watching everyone else,” she added quietly. “Like you’re afraid to slip. That’s not fear of the trial. That’s survival.”
My insides stilled. She saw too much.
“I believe it’s your way,” she hurried to say. “For me, it’s books. I read everything I can. Then I sit and think about it. Apply what I’ve learned from my observations, recording every bit of that in my journal.”
“What do you plan to do with all you write down?”
“Maybe write my own books for someone else to study.”
What else had she written in that journal? I forced a smile and pretended her words didn’t feel like knives poking at every weakness I’d tried to hide.
“Sorry,” she said, her cheeks flushing. “My mother keeps telling me to hold my observations to myself. She gave me my first journal, told me to write them down rather than be so frank with others or I’d never have friends.
” She stared forward, a wistful expression on her face.
“She’s wrong about that. These books are my best friends. ”
She couldn’t know, couldn’t have guessed the truth about me. The lie I lived itched beneath my skin, tighter than the collar of my tunic.
We rounded a corner and started down another hallway, her keeping pace, though she walked closer to me, flinching when one of the vines reached out toward her.
“I think you’ve suffered a lot of loss,” she finally said. “You keep it buried inside where it doesn’t hurt you.”
This woman might appear na?ve, but she was actually quite savvy.
A cinderhawk passed overhead with a whisper of wings, slicing through the torchlight before landing ahead on a piece of stone jutting out from the wall.
Not just any old bird. Trew’s cinderhawk. What was it doing here?
Tilting its head, it watched us follow Nia, seeming to pay particular attention to me.
“Do the creatures communicate with their people?” I asked Lexie who was striding directly behind me with Derren.
She scoffed. “They’re animals, not mind-readers.” But her expression shifted as she spoke, a frown creasing her skin. “Although… My grandmother used to say something about bonds. That they were wonderful things to be treasured and protected. That silence held its own kind of voice.”
She kicked a loose stone, sending it past Nia, skittering into the growing darkness.
Nia didn’t flinch or even appear to notice.
“Back then,” Lexie said, “I was too little to understand what she meant. I thought she was talking about my grandfather. He’d died the winter before, and she’d sit for hours staring at his empty chair, having conversations with someone who wasn’t there.”
As we walked beneath it, the hawk’s gaze burned through me. I could almost feel him on the other side of those eyes, Trew watching, measuring, ensuring I survived.
Maybe that subtle thread of magic inside me was taking hold, driving me mad. Or I was conceited, me thinking he might care enough to watch me, to make sure I was safe.
Kerralyn followed our stares. “Cinderhawks are extraordinarily rare. I studied flora and fauna for a time, and my research indicated they only bond with those of exceptional magical strength and unshakeable will. For one to choose our king…” A touch of awe widened her eyes. “It’s considered a great honor.”
“Tell me more about the bonds.”
Color flooded her face. “I don’t know much about it. They’re…companions. We’ve all seen that already.”
“What else do you know?” Lexie asked, walking closer behind us.
“That they’re a blessing.”
“Or a burden,” Jaxon said from behind Lexie, his high-pitched laugh echoing off the damp walls. He fidgeted with the worn leather bracelet around his wrist, spinning it around and around.
She looked back at him. “Do you truly believe that?”
Color flooded his face at her attention. “Well, no.”
The hawk’s head swiveled toward him, and Jaxon stumbled backward, into his brother with a sharp intake of breath.
“Easy there,” Maddox said, steadying him. His calculating gaze fell on me. “Funny how some people seem to attract attention wherever they go.” He shook his head, making his sandy hair sway across his shoulders. “Even if it seems they’re trying not to get close.”
I held myself apart from the others for a solid reason. I wasn’t from around here, and the last thing I wanted to do was give that away. But to finish my mission, I needed to blend in.
“You went out into the hallway last night,” he said in a twisted way that could only mean one thing.
“I had to go to the bathroom. Nothing new about that.”
“You wouldn’t happen to have run into someone while you were there, would you?”
“Spying, Maddox?” Lexie jeered. “If you’re interested in a girl, just say so.”
He swiped his hand my way. “Who’d want to be with her?”
“The feeling’s mutual,” I said.
Lexie chuckled. “See?” She prodded his shoulder with one finger hard enough he winced and rubbed the sore spot. “You’ll have to look for romance elsewhere.” Her tone came out light, but the edge of warning hung in the air.
“Fuck you,” he snarled.
Derren shoved Maddox against the wall. “Fucking leave my girlfriend alone.”
“Now, now.” Fara hurried forward, her melodic laugh ringing out as she thrust herself between us and Maddox. “Look at all of you, squabbling already. We should be supporting each other, not picking fights before we even reach the trial.”
“Take some.” She pulled a small packet of dried fruit and nuts from her pocket, dumping pieces into our reluctantly held-out hands. “Eat. You’ll feel better.” The gesture was so purely Fara, nurturing, optimistic, and determined to drive light into every interaction.
“Are you finished?” Nia barked out from quite a distance ahead, making me realize we’d come to a stop. “I’m only passing this way once.”
We hurried to catch up, me stuffing the fruit and nuts into my mouth, chewing while the hawk soared over us to land on another stone beyond Nia.