Chapter 28
“He’s coming,” Gemma says, peeking through the narrow slit in the door. She pushes Marianne back into the room and shoves an empty pail into her hands.
The healer on the low stool beside my bed stiffens.
Veronica swore her secrecy after the first trial when she stitched me up. Thea claims it was a mutual agreement, but Marianne insists it was more of a threat.
Thea leans over me and presses a hot rag to my forehead. “Are you sure this will work?”
“Yes,” Veronica bites, tightening the white apron wrapped around her waist. She tucks her greying hair behind her ears. “He has no reason to think I’d lie.”
I tug the sheets to my chin and cover the collar of my pirate shirt.
Thea bares her teeth. “You better make it convincing.”
“Quit your bickering,” I hiss.
Heavy footsteps sound from the doorway. The door swings open, and I turn my head away, closing my eyes.
“Where’s Briar?” Caelus says, voice hard.
“She’s ill, Your Highness,” Gemma says. “We were delivering clean rags.”
“And emptying the bucket,” Marianne adds.
I keep my breaths even and stop my feet from squirming at the foot of the bed. I feel his glare rake over my body. Gemma and Marianne pad to the servant’s door and slip out, Marianne sneaking a nod to me, as if to say, We’ll be waiting.
“Your Highness,” Thea says, removing the rag from my forehead. “I thought word was sent. Briar has been ill all morning. She’s only been lucid for a few moments at a time.”
“I’ve requested her presence at the second trial.”
My skin goes cold, and his booted footsteps creep closer.
“She’s unable to get out of bed,” Thea says, pressing her hand to the mattress. Like she could keep him from pulling away the covers.
“Then I think it may be time to get her up.”
His tall shadow looms over the bed, and I fight a tremble as his hand presses against my forehead. His fingers dip under the sheet. I clench my eyes shut and swallow a whimper as my heart thrashes in my chest.
“I wouldn’t do that, Your Highness,” Veronica says.
The hand disappears.
“She’s extremely contagious. In fact, you shouldn’t be in here until it’s sterilized.”
A long pause fills the room, and a bead of sweat rolls down my hairline.
Caelus’s footsteps retreat to the doorway. “Thank you, Veronica. Send word when she’s well.”
“Will do.”
The door shuts with a click, and Thea bolts from her seat, sliding the lock into place. I throw back the covers and leap from the bed, steadying my feet beneath me.
Thea shoves the boots into my hands. “Go. Don’t put them on yet. You only have five minutes.”
Swallowing, I nod to Veronica. “Thank you.”
“Thank me when you win, girl.”
I slip into the empty servant corridor. Everyone has already filtered to the streets, ready to watch the procession to the trial. I blow out a long breath and steady my pulse. On the inhale, I break into a dead sprint, my bare feet silent as the boots swing against my hip.
I count down the seconds until I’m meant to be in the east wing on the opposite side of the castle. If, for whatever reason, Gemma and Marianne didn’t make it to Harriet’s room, I’ll be a forfeit. Instantly executed by the power Caelus used to bind us to the competition.
Three more minutes.
I skid around a corner, and my heart leaps into my throat. Ahead, a pair of servants exit a room, arms piled with linens. I slink into a shallow alcove and press myself to the wall, covering my mouth with a hand.
My pulse drums in my ears.
Two minutes.
The servants pass, and their whispers echo through the hallway.
“Another missing this morning.”
My ears perk, and I hold my breath, quiet the pounding in my ears.
“Said they found a folded note in her bedroom, and—”
They disappear into the laundry room, and the swinging door cuts off their voices. I push from the wall and barrel down the corridor.
I shove a heavy oak door into the ancient east wing and sprint past unexplored hallways to the staircase at the end. My bare feet splash through stagnant water, and I slip on a worn step, the jagged edge of wood biting into my knees.
I grit my teeth and heave myself up, ignoring the searing pain shooting up my leg.
One minute.
A landing opens up and I throw myself into the musty, cobweb lined corridor. Light spills out of a doorway and my muscles ache, lungs scream, knees drip blood. I hurl myself into the room and trip over the threshold, slamming to the ground.
Gemma stretches out a hand. “Took you long enough.”
I rise, the edges of my vision blurry.
“Hurry,” Marianne whispers, eyeing the bedroom door.
Voices come from the hallway.
Gemma cups my face. “This fast, it’s going to hurt.”
Power stabs under my skin like a blade, morphing and cutting my features. My hair shortens to my shoulders and lightens to a sandy blonde. I swallow a scream as my shoulders shift and legs lengthen—muscle and bone stretching and twisting until I no longer resemble myself.
Her hands fall. “Done.”
I heave in a breath, body aching from the sudden change, and slip the boots onto my feet. The voices in the hallway grow louder. I gather my hair and secure it at my nape. “Thank you.”
Gemma nods. “My power is stretched thin, so the glamour might not last as long, but I’ll be in the stands to reinforce it.”
A knock comes from the door. Marianne wraps her hand around Gemma’s wrist and drags her to the servant’s entrance.
“Wait,” I say. “If you hear talk about where selkie tails might be hidden, listen closely. Please.”
A knock comes again. Louder this time. “Harriet? Are you in there?”
“We will,” Marianne says, pulling them into the corridor.
She shuts the door, and I stride across the room, taking one last glance at myself in the mirror. Every bit of myself is undetectable, other than the pendant shoved beneath my shirt.
I turn the knob and open the door.
Kressa scans me, paying close attention to the spot beneath my pants where the dagger rests. “Where have you been? I haven’t seen you since the trial last week.”
Behind her, the hallway swarms with competitors.
“I must have missed you at last night’s dinner.”
Her brows furrow, and she presses her tongue into her cheek. “Have you spoken to Briar? About our—”
“Alliance.” I nod. “Yes, she told me.”
She holds out a hand. “Well?”
I hesitate. I spent the small hours of the night staring at my ceiling after what she said. Selfish. Ignorant. Each of her words rang true. But with two trials standing between myself and victory, I could use an alliance. And when I win, I’ll atone for every decision I’ve made.
“As long as you don’t try to kill me again,” I say.
“I’m a woman of my word. And, well, I owe you for not killing me when you had the chance.”
“Fair enough.”
I grip her hand, and the moment our skin touches, my lungs empty. The space beyond her blurs into a vast expanse of nothing. Nothing exists but Kressa and me and my power singing below my veins, tendrils slipping from its cage.
I rip my hand away, and the power blinks out like a snuffed flame.
She rubs at her palm, gaze pinned to the lines running across it. A crease forms between her brows, and her eyes meet mine.
She shakes her head and turns away.
I pull my door shut, and the air in the crowded hallway is taut, fizzling with anticipation. I furrow my brows. There should be about two dozen of us left, but I count less than twenty.
Caelus appears at the mouth of the hallway, flanked by royal guards standing at attention. He adjusts his collar and the space silences.
“Welcome to the second trial. As you’ve likely noticed, a handful of your peers are gone. They were caught escaping the castle last night, and were executed on sight.”
Goosebumps break out over my flesh, and I sneak a glance at Kressa. Her jaw is sewn shut, hands fisted at her sides. That could have been her last night, and if she was caught, there’s nothing I could have done. No begging or bribing on my part could stop Caelus from killing her.
My chained power balks at the thought of a sword through her chest. A noose around her throat.
At the front of the crowd, Simon stands with the five others who earned immunity. He crosses his arms over his chest and shoots me a smug grin. I return it with a snarl.
“Let this be a warning to all of you,” Caelus continues. “You knew the rules when you entered this competition.”
The guards order us in two lines for the procession, and I settle in beside Kressa.
She leans closer. “Briar told me there will be selkies.”
I bite back a smile. Somewhere deep in that cold, bleak heart, Kressa genuinely wants to help Harriet. “Yes, I heard.”
She glances down at my hidden dagger. “And she told me you’ll give her a ship if you win. Thank you.”
I blink as we start our descent down the stairs. “For what?”
She averts her eyes, focusing on the treads at her feet. “She’s a good person, and she deserves freedom—to leave Sarenia behind and never look back. I wish I could give that to her, but I’m glad you can.”
The air rushes out of my lungs, and I stumble, grasping the rail so I don’t knock down the man in front of me. Questions swirl in my mind, but as Harriet, I can’t ask any of them. So, I settle on, “You’re welcome.”
We exit the castle and stride down the polished stone steps where nobles gawk, their velvety blue carriages waiting on the outskirts of the courtyard. I tilt my chin high, refusing to give them the decency of an acknowledgment.
Onlookers line the cobblestone streets, pointing and whispering amongst each other. People lean out of second story windows, cheering and waving Sky Court flags. Others simply stare like we’re exotic animals.
I clench my jaw and stare back. How much coin did they drop at our expense?
Sprinkled amongst the wealth are servants from the castle and people dressed in plain grey clothing, tight lipped as the procession passes. Ahead, a woman pushes herself from a wall, reaching out to one of the men—Damian. He pauses and mouths something, stepping out of line.
A blast of air throws him back.
“In line!” Caelus yells.
The woman flinches back and sinks into the shadowed alleyway, her eyes glistening.
Rays of sun beat down on us as the street ends, and we stop in a grassy field. In front of the tree line, a wooden, half-moon structure arcs around us. Hundreds of bodies cram the stands, wide eyed and eager for bloodshed.
Thea nods from the second row, and a weight lifts from my shoulders. Marianne and Gemma sit beside her, hands pressed into their laps. Power ripples over my body and my skin tightens. I tilt my chin at Gemma, thanking her.
The two lines of competitors fan out into a semicircle in front of the stands, and applause roars from the crowd.
I squint at the box seats that Caelus will soon fill, then the row behind it. My heart races, and I scan the rest of the audience, eyes darting from face to face as my mouth dries. No Isolde.
But Caelus raises a hand and the crowd silences, spectators leaning forward in their seats. “The second trial is simple. You have an hour to find your way back to this arena.”
My gut roils. Back from where? I brush my fingertips over my dagger and glance to the west, where the ocean spreads into the horizon. My limbs go cold.
None of us stand a chance against a rabid selkie in the water, let alone on land.
Caelus’s lips curl into a smile. “If you survive, you’ll join the six others in the third and final trial.” The wide set of doors behind him ease open, and his smile grows. “But for today’s, we have a visitor.”
A figure clad in long midnight robes emerges from the chamber, its face obscured by a hood. Long, flowing sleeves hide hands clasped at his front, and sunlight hits his body, illuminates the pallid, grey skin of the bottom half of his face.
He tracks the competitors and pauses on me. A bone chilling dread sweeps through my very core and dives into my soul. His head tilts the slightest, and his mouth twists into a smile, revealing fangs.
“A Sopor,” Kressa breathes.
“What’s that?” I whisper, but the Sopor snaps his fingers and the world goes black.