Chapter 34 #2
“I’m offended by how concerned you look, Callum,” Audra said. “Wilder, back me up!”
Wilder nudged her shoulder with her own. “Sparring isn’t exactly your forte, Audra. Echinacea or Forge would both be better choices.” Her tone was placating.
Suddenly, Audra was annoyed with all of them. They had no idea what she was going through right now.
Audra couldn’t explain to any of them that Echinacea’s trial presented its own unique set of challenges.
How could she possibly concoct a lifesaving elixir when her touch seemed to drain the very essence of vitality from all life incras?
She couldn’t make a life-healing potion because if any living thing drank whatever she poured her magic into, no matter the set of incras she ascribed to it, no matter how painstakingly she crafted them, it wouldn’t be alive after the first swallow.
Probably.
She had no way to test this theory of hers; she wasn’t against trapping one of the many snow hares that hopped around Holyvere’s expansive grounds with their little fluffy tails and pink noses, but the vision of the hapless hare, its delicate pink nose twitching innocently, succumbing to her concoction would haunt her dreams eternally.
No, she could not inflict such a cruel fate upon any creature, no matter how small.
Well, maybe a rat. She’d seen one once, in Central Main, right by the entrance.
It must have just run in, seeking shelter from the storm raging outside, but the moment it’d run into the building, it popped out of existence.
It was there, and then it wasn’t. Plus, how would she catch it?
She was out of luck on the rat front, so outside of convincing Noel to drink a practice potion, which was, she had to admit, tempting …
she would just have to assume the worst for everyone’s safety.
So that left … Sabre.
Her anger waned, quick as it had swelled.
Because it wasn’t their fault that she was going through all this alone, and maybe she was acting childish and needlessly stubborn by keeping them in the dark, by refusing to go to her friends for help when she so clearly needed it.
Callum and Wilder and Cersha had shown more than enough times that they could be trusted.
They wouldn’t inform on her for not turning in the fact that a demon could access Holyvere grounds by way of the foundry.
They probably wouldn’t believe her about the ghost thing …
but at least they wouldn’t tell anyone about it.
And when it came to her being the Heir …
Well, they would keep her secret. She knew it.
But the problem was, if she ever admitted any of this out loud … that would make it real. And right now, she couldn’t handle that. Not to mention, if they knew she was the Heir and didn’t report it, Zenaida would consider that treason, they might be put to death.
“It’s not like she’s a complete failure at Sabre. She kicks ass in the war games,” Wilder said kindly.
Wilder was correct. The strategy portion of Commander Renwick’s lessons?
Sure, no problem. Set up whittled pieces of wood on a pretend map and tell her to plan her assigned territories’ next plan of attack, tell what all she needs to keep safe and what she wants to gain by the end of it, and she will most every time.
But the flyer had mentioned death, and that likely wouldn’t come by way of a strategy session.
Callum ground out through clenched teeth, “That’s all fine and wonderful, but is everyone forgetting that Sabre Guild won’t be tested on strategy?
No, this will be a combat-in-arms test, a test of physical prowess, and as Commander Renwick loves to scream ‘war isn’t fair, war doesn’t have rules,’ and so her fucking beloved Sabre trial isn’t going to have rules that protect Audra.
” He slammed his hand down and recited, “Death of opponent may result in docked points.”
“I know. I’m not a child, Callum. Believe it or not, I saw the same damned poster you did.” Audra jumped to her feet, snatching up her plate and empty mug. “I guess I’ll just have to concede before I’m killed, won’t I?”
She stormed off, shoving her plate and mug in the wash bin with excessive force, before leaving the dining hall in a huff.
The only problem was that failing would increase the chances of her being carted off to the front lines—though …
Mist take her. Audra paused in the corridor as a wild, mad laugh escaped her lips.
How had she not realized …
Relief crashed over her in a rogue wave. She almost collapsed with it.
She no longer had to worry about being sent to war.
Zhaire had said she was the Heir, the ghost had immediately confirmed it … and … well, she’d suspected it for some time.
She was free.
They wouldn’t send the Heir to die. Audra need only worry about the Cycle rite—once she confirmed that the ritual didn’t involve setting her on fire or something, then she could confess.
This entire nightmare might end soon.
So, the Sabre Guild trial was a bust—she had no way of winning it, but she need not concern herself with that at all. She would concede early, to no one’s surprise, she would lose the Sabre trial, but as long as she kept her life and remained uninjured, that would be fine.
As long as she came first in the Arcane trial, she would be able to leave the grounds, explore Green Barrow, talk to the townspeople, and find any records that weren’t perfectly placed propaganda by the fae.