Chapter 18
18
I struggled to walk across the forest path from Ashguard to the Saltspire Palace. Shifting back to being a human from the panther form had left me feeling boneless and sweaty. And knowing we were headed to see the King? My nerves were fried.
Callum didn’t walk by my side. He strode silently at the front of the line of prisoners, speaking to no one. Was he angry with me? Worried? All I knew for sure was that the rush of that power had been intoxicating—even if it was putting my life at risk to try and wield it.
The only person missing from the line of prisoners was Tristen. I still hadn’t seen him since the second trial. Was he injured? Rachelle had said he had killed more guards. Was he truly so bloodthirsty that he continued to fall prey to his violent nature?
Soon, we were cresting the bend of the dirt trail that gave way to the soft salt path that crunched gently underneath our feet as we passed the sentries of the palace and continued through the gates. The afternoon sun was hidden behind billowing clouds. A soft sea breeze tickled my lips as the scent of salts from the palace and the sea met my senses.
We were once again brought through the main hall of swooping staircases and to the looming doors of the throne room. A hush fell over the prisoners as we we were led through those huge doors.
Inside the throne room, beaten and bloody in the center—was Tristen. The Shadowfire Assassin, his clothes torn and gashes ripped open on his body as he stood, surrounded by guards with swords at the ready. But he still held himself with a haughty confidence. His shoulders back and his head held high as he leveled a death glare at the King.
Tristen’s gaze whipped around as we were ushered around him in the semicircle. His eyes met mine and I couldn’t tear my gaze away. He gave me a wolfish smirk, blood dotting the edge of his lips.
“I see you’ve brought me an audience,” Tristen said, turning back to the King. “How kind.”
Underneath the King stood a line of guards, and I noticed now that they were holding three men. The three men all wore leather fighting gear, and bore bloody injuries almost as gruesome as Tristen’s.
At their feet—at Tristen’s feet—lay Sophos, the King’s mindweavyr who had forced me to drink the elixir before the second trial. Sophos was clearly dead by the looks of the blood on him. Had Tristen killed him?
“Contestants,” King West bellowed, ignoring Tristen. “The Isle of Embermere seeks to protect its inhabitants. And protect, it does. These three rebel soldiers were caught trying to dock on the island—in what we pieced together was a rescue attempt to recover the Shadowfire Assassin. They came in here and killed my mindweavyr, crippling our abilities to demand answers from them.”
Mutters filled the throne room, some of the courtiers and the King’s guards sliding sideways gazes toward Tristen and the three men.
But Tristen just cocked his head. “If I didn’t want to be here, you wouldn’t be able to stop me from leaving,” he said, low and deadly.
The King leaned forward with an amused grin on his face. “Big talk for an Assassin who has been rotting away in Ashguard. Not so strong now that you got caught, are you?”
Tristen shrugged. “I have my reasons for being here.”
The King’s eyes narrowed. He looked up at the contestants. “The arrogance of Stormgard’s rebel forces knows no bounds. This is what we’re fighting against. Those who don’t blink at claiming the lives of our people, who seek to slaughter us and send bloodthirsty killers after us and into all of the kingdoms. Luminaria will not be safe until we have eradicated this rebel threat.”
Cheers broke out in the throne room and I felt my heart jump into my throat. What had we been brought here to witness, exactly? I searched for Callum, but his gaze was stony, focused only on the King.
“Even as a King leading a war, I can show mercy,” King West said as the throne room hushed. “Tristen, oh Shadowfire Assassin , I have a simple offer for you. Tell me why these rebels are here and what they’re after, what their plans are. I’ll even remove your iron bands so you can break into their minds if you need to dig a little for the truth. In giving over their plans, I’ll set you free. You’ll receive a full pardon and can live out the rest of your life comfortably in exchange for this information. And you can even walk away from these trials—a sure death sentence for everyone in this room save one.”
Freedom . The King was offering Tristen freedom. Would he take it?
But Tristen just looked bored. Calm. As if he was a placid body of water, untouched by the King’s words. Smooth and steady.
Tristen brushed his gaze over the rebels in front of him, one of whom he gave a small incline of his head, lowering his eyes as if in… apology?
Was he about to give up his friends?
Tristen rolled his shoulders back and stared down the King. “I decline your offer. I am exactly where I am meant to be.”
The throne room roared in chaos, courtiers hurling their shouts at him.
“ Rebel scum !”
“ Murderer !”
“ Kill him !”
I stared at Tristen, and those stunning obsidian eyes slid to mine once more. Drinking me in. He was still his handsome self, but he looked so… exhausted. As if he had been tortured for days on end. I wondered how much of his aloof nature was an act. There was so much blood on him…
The throne doors flew open. I scented the electric zing of magic in the air as I felt the mystical breeze that had blown open the doors. Then, the dark power coming from behind me nearly threw me to my knees. Not just in its power—which rivaled Tristen’s—but in the ugly heaviness of it.
Every eye in the throne room turned to her. Cassandra . She was vibrating with power, and three of her hooded acolytes followed her, their eyes replaced by glowing orbs. It was as if they had been caught mid-ritual, and Cassandra and her priestesses were being imbued with a power that carried a heaviness to it.
Cassandra walked to the front of the throne room as the crowd parted for her. She stopped in front of Tristen, her lips parting into a smile that looked too soft. Too sweet.
“Oh, Tristen. Why can you never simply behave?”
Tristen’s eyes were blazing, and I saw his hand twitch as if it were going for a dagger that was not sheathed on his belt.
“Cassandra,” he spat out. “Still bowing to the King’s orders, I see.”
Cassandra ignored him, turning to the rest of us. “Illumia be with you all,” Cassandra said, her voice lilting over the echoing room.
“ Illumia be with you ,” the chamber murmured back.
“Justice, Cassandra,” King West said. “That’s what we’ve called you away from your full moon ritual for today. These are three of Stormgard Rebels. We only need one to question.”
“Don’t you dare,” Tristen said, his voice low and deadly. “You touch them and I’ll see that you die ten times over before the light claims you.”
Cassandra’s gaze lit up at Tristen’s threats. “Such violence. But the rules are the rules. No one sets foot on this island if they aren't invited. It’s not the gods’ will.”
Several guards crept up behind Tristen, and I realized what was happening. The rebels bowed their heads, just as Tristen was grabbed by the guards. He cried out, shouting for them to stop.
Cassandra lifted her arms and tipped her head back to the sky beyond the vaulted ceiling of the throne room. She started whispering words that I could feel in my bones. Ancient, heavy words. Words that were imbued with threads of magic.
Suddenly, a lightning bolt shot from above, and there were screams and the smell of burning flesh as a crack of thunder boomed through the massive throne room.
Tristen’s voice was rough and angry, cursing out Cassandra, and the guards held him back as he strained to lunge for her and tear her apart.
Behind her, two of the rebels were nothing more than piles of ash.
“Take the rabid dog back to his cell,” King West said, and it took five more guards to haul Tristen away. He turned back to address us. “Let this be a warning to the rest of you—your fate is decided if you defy the rules of these trials.”
I clutched the edges of my breeches, my palms sweaty and my heart pounding.
Cassandra turned to address us prisoners. “See you all at the next trial. It will be a delight to host you.” She curtseyed and then walked out the way she came, the crowd in the throne room giving her and her acolytes even more berth than before.
My mouth went dry. I turned and spotted Callum, but his eyes were far away. Stony. He was unseeing, as if he were in battle with his interior demons.
This was the King he served? Whose armies he led?
Maybe I was missing something. Maybe my blank slate of a mind had failed to grasp something basic. But everything felt wrong . I needed answers. Different ones. I needed to know what the rebels were planning—to know Tristen’s secrets.
As the guards started to funnel us back to their cells, I stumbled in front of Callum, and he snapped out of his reverie to grab me.
“T-thank you,” I murmured, sliding my hand down his body.
“Keep it steady,” Callum said softly, a gaze flicking up to where the King was discussing something low and urgent with his advisors as the third surviving rebel was hauled away to the bowels of the palace.
I just nodded, playing the part of the dumb maiden as I followed the rest of the prisoners out of the throne room.
Callum didn’t even notice that his keys were missing.