Chapter 25
Derian
“She’s doing well,” Cal says from beside me, his voice rougher than normal, a clear indication of his frustration.
Unlike the previous trial, which took place solely within their minds, we can actually look down into the maze this time. I’m not sure if that’s better or worse, though.
I’ve barely moved since it started, barely even breathed. And I haven’t bothered being discreet about where my attention lies.
“Who’s left?” I ask, entirely unable to look away for long enough to assess the standing of the others myself.
“Seraphina, Alexandria, Elise, and Mara.”
And Huntyr, but he doesn’t need to tell me that.
She’s been smart so far. She handled the vines effortlessly, has stuck to the shadows so expertly that she’s avoided the attention of any of the Fae, and has only been using her orb in small bursts to light the path ahead of her.
Even just now, when the maze started closing in around her, she hardly flinched, just ran forward and rolled at the last minute when it looked as if she might be locked into those walls forever.
Something’s changed about her, though.
Ever since she put the Mortal girl out of her misery, it’s as if a shadow has fallen over her features. Her eyes have hardened into something firmer. Colder. Like twin forms of unbreakable ice.
“She is indeed impressive.”
“Too impressive,” he reminds me pointedly, leaning forward over the rail and matching my stance. I can feel his tension like waves falling over me.
She’s just about to reach the center of the maze.
I look ahead to the fountain that lies in the direct center of the web and nearly choke.
Seraphina is circling the blonde Mortal.
I recognize the viciousness of her smile.
The blonde, Alexandria I think, stares at Seraphina, her posture firm and alert. She must be terrified. Even I would be off balance if Seraphina looked at me that way. But the Mortal just grasps the blade in her hand with deadly force, her knuckles white.
Seraphina’s eyes flicker towards the blade before she sends an orb of fire soaring forward with nothing more than a flick of her wrist. The fire singes Alexandria’s fingers, and she drops the weapon with a hiss. Fear flashes across her features.
“She’s going to play with her,” Cal says disapprovingly, with an irritated shake of his head. “She’s always been wicked that way.”
Yes, she has.
The battle isn’t quick. If you can even go so far as to call it a battle. Seraphina lets it drag out like a cat toying with a mouse. We all know she could kill the Mortal with a simple wave of her palm, but she takes her time, beating the girl bloody, until she’s nearly unrecognizable.
Seraphina looks up to the audience, a glint in her eyes. She’s enjoying every second of this. She’s putting on a show and reveling in being everyone’s favorite entertainer.
The crowd roars for her as she shoves the girl face first into the fountain and her magic sparks. The water boils rapidly, and the Mortal’s body thrashes, splashing water all around them. Even underwater, I can hear her screams.
Eventually, she stops kicking.
It’s gruesome. Disgusting.
My fingers curl around the edges of the banister, gripping tightly to steady myself.
“That is why your brother didn’t want you to marry her,” Cal says, irritation thick in his voice. “You’re going to make her the next princess of this land. Gods, she’ll be in the line of succession.”
The thought turns my stomach sour, but I can’t respond, can’t move, can’t think, because Huntyr is getting too fucking close to that fountain and Seraphina is still there.
And Gods help me, I don’t think I can stand by and watch her do that to Huntyr.
Storm clouds thicken above us, humidity rising in the air so suddenly that it’s nearly suffocating.
Cal tracks my gaze, putting a warning hand on my shoulder.
“You can’t intervene,” he reminds me under his breath, careful of who might overhear.
“I know that,” I hiss, even as magic pounds through me, angry and wild.
Demanding.
Primal.
Huntyr’s beast sits outside the maze, staring at the high shrubs as if she can see right through the magic. Slowly, she turns her feline eyes to me, as if she’s challenging me to do just that.
To intervene.
To blow a gust of wind towards Huntyr, or to send a crack of lightning ahead of her in a magical warning.
I shouldn’t. It goes against every ancient rule of the Conclave.
But I don’t know if I can stop myself.
The rising tide of magic in my veins is almost painful.
I’ve never felt my power respond to another person this strongly.
My stomach clenches.
My fingers twitch.
And then—
Seraphina grabs Alexandria’s orb of light and leaves before Huntyr finds herself in the clearing.
Before I’m faced with the choice of what I’m supposed to do and what I feel like I must do.
I relax as much as I can while she’s still trapped in that death maze.