Chapter 47
Chapter Forty-Seven
Trying to ignore my exhaustion, I weave through the palace hallways to the Royal Archives. Between this morning’s training session and too many late nights to count, I’m so tired that several minutes pass before I realize the weight dragging behind me is from my wings.
With a shrug, I banish them and reach for the handle of the heavy door that protects our kingdom’s history and knowledge.
Illumination glows from every chandelier, as well as the scattered ever-lights. A page naps in the corner on a little stool.
At the first desk between the rows of bookcases, I find the subject of my search.
Bastian’s hands tremble as he closes another ancient text, dust puffing from its pages in a tired cloud. Only a stub remains of the candle beside him, the wax pooling on the table like congealed blood.
Before I get a chance to speak, Leesa waves me over. “Earlier, Rose’s flame familiar showed us something. In the section of the archives we hadn’t reached yet.”
I straighten, my fatigue momentarily forgotten. “Tell me it’s good news.”
She hesitates, pushing her dark golden blond waves behind her ears as she leans closer. “It’s…interesting. But we’re running out of time.”
Leesa’s gaze shifts to the far wall where we use charcoal to mark the days with harsh, vertical slashes. Seven days remain until the wedding ceremonies begin and the world pours into Tirene. The day after is the Champions Match.
Because nothing says honeymoon quite like squaring off with your new spouse in a fight to the death. “What did Rose’s familiar show you?”
“Ancient binding protocol. The gods must follow certain rules when using champions.” She pushes a thin yellowed scroll toward Bastian. “We’re not sure what it means yet. Rose is with Knox, who’s trying to make sense of it.”
Bastian nods, pulling the scroll closer. “I’ll add it to the pile of ‘might save us, might not.’”
On any other occasion, Bastian’s attempt to lighten a shitty situation would draw a laugh, but I can only muster a weak smile.
The door creaks open again, admitting Agnar. His coppery hair is wind-tossed and sweat-dampened, his battle-scarred face lined with exhaustion. Dust coats his boots and the lower half of his trousers, evidence of his day’s work.
While Sterling and I spent the better part of the day training separately, Agnar helped to set up the arena for the match. We agreed on using the vast stretch of land on the West Coast near the Storm Cliffs, the most uninhabited section of Tirene. Nowhere near the palace or the dragons.
I squeeze his arm as he strolls by. “Everything went well?”
“It works, but I had to use every bit of my power.” Agnar drops into a chair, his broad shoulders slumping. “The earth magic barriers will hold during the match, but if there’s any sort of attack beforehand…”
He doesn’t finish the sentence. He doesn’t need to. We all understand what’s at stake.
When the windows rattle, I spin to inspect them. For days, strange shifting clouds have slowly formed around Tirene. “Glad the weather didn’t render your task impossible. Those clouds, or whatever they are, keep getting closer.”
The oddities move with too much unnatural purpose to be real storm clouds and circle like cautious predators.
“Knox said to tell you he’s training again.
Against fire, wind, and earth.” Rose issues the announcement from the doorway.
Her blond hair reflects the fading light, and the flame sprite that accompanies her throbs with an anxious amber glow above her right shoulder.
The child’s blue eyes are far too serious for her young face. “The gods are watching.”
“Thanks, Rosie.” Agnar’s expression softens. “Let them watch. You come give your uncle a hug.”
The little girl races over and throws herself into his arms as her familiar casts dancing shadows on the marble floors. “Kin showed me things. In the old books. About rules.”
Helene bursts in, her cheeks flushed with exertion. “Southern temples in Meridia just sent word. They’re with us. Except for the lead priest. The Devoted got to him first.”
Dammit.
“Thanks, Helene. Not as good as we hoped, but better than we expected.” The temples going against the lead priest is yet another sign of the growing division in all the kingdoms.
“You realize, if this fails, we’re not just risking ourselves.” Bastian gestures at the room’s occupants. “We’re risking everyone who’s helped us. The whole world.”
I shrug, even that tiny movement almost too much for me to handle after hours of grueling training. “The whole world is already at risk.”
Bastian grimaces. “It’ll be worse for those involved in the planning.”
So basically, everyone in this room and the people we recruited will be tortured by the gods if we fail.
Such an uplifting thought.
Leesa wraps her arms around Bastian from behind his chair and leans forward to kiss his temple. “That’s why we won’t fail.”
Exactly. Because when the alternative is unthinkable, failure isn’t an option.