Chapter 11
Sharp voices drag me out of the deepest sleep I’ve ever known. My body is heavy, reluctant to wake, but the world refuses to let me linger.
Last night, the moment my head touched the pillow, I was gone so completely that I have no memory of Eva and Peonica leaving. Now, a sliver of sunlight slips through the shadows in my bedroom, brushing against the edges of my awareness. It’s too early for such an abrupt awakening.
“She’ll wake when she wakes.” Peonica’s irritated voice cuts through the door.
“She’ll sleep when she wins, girl.”
Kaelzar’s words, edged with menace, snap me fully awake. My stomach knots.
Nothing provokes Peonica’s fury faster than being called a girl. She guards the title of young woman as if it were a crown, and anyone who dares suggest otherwise usually earns a black eye for their trouble.
I lurch from the bed, snatch my robe, and throw it over my shoulders. Dread tightens in my chest as I reach for the door, but hesitate, expecting to be locked from the outside, as it is every morning. My duenna’s thoroughness has always ensured that.
Then I remember that Eleanor is gone, and my fingers curl around the handle. It gives way. Relief surges through me, only to vanish a heartbeat later when I see them.
Peonica and Kaelzar, facing each other.
She’s wearing a shapeless sleep smock sewn from what looks like quilt scraps and dyed wool, so oversized it hangs off her like a curtain.
She stands rigid before Kaelzar, her bony finger pressed against his chest, a defiant act, a violation of every natural order. The very air seems to bristle at the audacity of it. Shadows ripple along the walls, like a still lake disturbed by the sudden, violent dart of unseen fish.
And Peonica—gods spare her—pokes him.
The creak of the door snaps their attention to me. Silence crashes over the receiving room.
Kaelzar’s gaze latches onto me, dragging over every inch. While Peonica’s brows lift, as if annoyed I’ve interrupted their conversation, apparently one that doesn’t concern me in the slightest.
I’ve always admired her fearlessness. It’s sharpened by survival.
Whether standing up to drunken men in Viele’s alleys, where any scrawny girl would be seen as easy prey or facing down a towering Godbeast who could crush her without effort, Peonica never wavers.
It’s as if she thrives on the edge of danger, where others would falter.
I step between them, fixing Kaelzar with a glare. “Before either of you explains what’s going on, I’ll warn you,” my voice is steady and firm, “if you so much as breathe wrong in her direction, I’ll gut you with my bare hand.”
“Or maybe just stop breathing altogether,” Peonica chimes in, peeking around my shoulder with a smirk.
I spin on her, exasperated. “Will you settle?”
She huffs but takes a step back, arms crossing over her chest. “I was minding my own business outside your door,” she says, voice edged with practical frustration rather than reckless fury. “And then this one,” she shoots Kaelzar a glare, “storms in like he owns the place.”
Kaelzar’s expression remains stony, but there’s something darker in his eyes. “I was here to wake you.” His voice is rough. “You’re supposed to be training your magic, not lazing about. Instead, I find her lurking like a guard dog.”
Peonica snorts, clearly unimpressed, but the tension in her stance eases. “Lurking? I was making sure Raylane wasn’t disturbed. Rightfully so. You barging in like a raging bull isn’t exactly what I’d call respectful.”
A sigh pulls from my chest, frustration creeping in. I pinch the bridge of my nose.
“Enough. Both of you.” My voice cuts through their bickering. I turn to Peonica first. “You should be home, not camping out in my chambers. I—” I falter. “After what I did yesterday, we don’t know the consequences with the crown and Church. It might not be safe to be near me right now.”
She shrugs, but there’s no defiance in it this time. “Figured I’d stick around anyway.”
Then, my gaze snaps to Kaelzar. “And you! One moment you vanish, the next you storm in here acting like you get to decide when I wake up and what I do the moment I roll out of bed?”
Kaelzar’s jaw tenses. “If you had any sense at all, you’d do exactly as I say. In bed or not.”
“Well, that’s certainly one way to motivate her,” Peonica mumbles, more to herself than anyone else, and heads to the sofa.
Heat creeps up my neck, but I refuse to react.
Instead, I fix Kaelzar with a level stare. “I have more important things to do.” My voice is firm, though my thoughts are already racing. I need to speak with Ryker.
Kaelzar steps closer, his presence looming, shadows curling at the edges of his cloak. “What could possibly be more important than the Spectra Judicium?”
My mouth opens, but I hesitate. The truth is, I don’t know everything about the Trial. I can learn how to fight. I can endure. But the intricate rules, the hidden dangers—those are what might undo me. Not strength. Not skill. Ignorance.
Kaelzar studies my silence. “Preparation is key, Trouble.”
I grit my teeth. I hate that he’s right. “I know,” I bite out. “But barging in here and barking orders isn’t helpful.”
Something flickers across his face. Annoyance? Amusement? I can’t tell. “Next time, I’ll send a formal invitation,” he says.
Peonica makes a noise of mock approval from the sofa. I resist the urge to groan.
“Fine,” I snap. “Give me a moment to get ready, and we’ll discuss what needs to be done.”
Kaelzar inclines his head and moves toward the window. “Don’t keep me waiting.”
His cloak shifts as he walks, the black fabric rippling like liquid shadow, alive with something unnatural. The soft clink of chains trails after each step, which serves as a quiet reminder of everything I still don’t know about him.
I stop my mind from wandering, and usher Peonica toward my bedroom, careful not to touch her skin with my ungloved hands as the door clicks shut behind us.
Coming up short on anything remotely suitable for physical training, I settle on the simplest gown I own, a light brown one, gloves, and a pair of closed-toe sandals I once wore during my lessons with Eleanor.
They were meant for brides learning to walk in rhythm during a wedding ceremony, part of the preparation she’d arranged for a marriage that will never happen.
The small bells at the straps chime with every step as I move toward the door, and Peonica nearly collapses with laughter at the noise. I promise through gritted teeth that I’ll see to a proper wardrobe for training soon enough.
When I fling the door open, ready to rush out, I collide head-on with a wall of something black and unyielding.
Kaelzar’s back. He must have been standing a hair’s breadth from the door, his broad frame blocking it completely.
“What is it?” I hiss, poking him to move out of the way.
Peonica, slick as always, slips around me and ducks beneath Kaelzar’s arm before I can stop her. She launches forward, clearly intent on confronting whatever danger is lurking outside.
Kaelzar catches her mid-stride, one massive arm hooking around her waist and hauling her back against him. The movement opens a narrow gap beside them, just enough for me to step through.
Beyond him, four guards stand in formation, their hulking figures encased in armor of fused metal and seamless stone, likely conjured by Zyrel’s transformation magic to make the stone light enough to wear.
“You’ll let them take her?” Peonica’s voice snaps from behind me, as I face the four men. Her question is followed by a heavy stomp and Kaelzar’s low grunt of pain—she must have stepped on his foot.
“She’s my Champion. The stars could try taking her from me, and they’d fail,” he mutters, voice low enough to suggest he’d rather I didn’t hear. “But something tells me she’d be slightly pissed if I made four men disappear before she even tries to handle them herself.”
I exhale, shaking my head, because all of us—including said four men—can hear every word of their ever-so-charming exchange.
“What is the meaning of this?” I ask the guards, forcing myself to keep my chin high.
“We’re to follow you at all times,” one of them answers.
I wait for more, but nothing comes. So they’re not here to take me away. Ryker’s finally come up with an appropriate containment plan for my unpredictable magic. For me.
I take a closer look at the group. Their armor is intentional: no exposed skin, mostly solid, lifeless stone, immune to my Decay. Technically, there’s no rule against Champions imbuing objects with magic before the Sovereign God or Goddess is named, as long as no one is harmed.
But Ryker’s choice to use Zyrel’s magic, to place his touch between me and the world, cracks something in me. Like a fracture in the glass through which I’d always seen him. And now, no matter how I look, his reflection will always carry that break.
“So be it,” I say, making it sound like an order, as if I’m the one choosing this. “But I suggest you stay far enough away—” I glance at Kaelzar, who finally releases my friend, earning himself a heated curse from her, “—because I should warn you, this beastie bites.”
After a series of coaxing, bribing, and finally, threats to have Kaelzar carry her home over his shoulder, Peonica at last relented and left me to my training, muttering something about sparing the poor Godbeast the indignity of having to try.
Once she’s gone, Kaelzar leads me toward the southern edge of the Birch Forest that stretches for miles along the borders of Viele.
The guards follow until the tree line, stating flatly that since I’m moving farther from the population, their orders end here.
They’ll wait until I return, and this is where I’m to exit when my training is done.
What they’d do if my magic spiraled out of control, I don’t know. But something tells me those peculiar suits of armor hold more than just decorative enchantments.