Chapter 24
Talisa
Aurelian Trials, Day One
Opening Day of the Aurelian Trials dawned clear and cold, as if the weather itself had been arranged by Chatelaine Lirelle to ensure optimal visibility from every tier of the amphitheater’s stone benches.
The pale marble columns glowed in the winter sunlight, and the air tasted of frost and anticipation.
Mira, Juno, and I walked in lockstep through the grand entrance arch of the amphitheater, Elio a half-step behind us. The twins looked pale, with dark circles under their eyes, as if their nights had been as sleepless as mine.
“Don’t look so scared,” Juno whispered, reaching for my hand. Her fingers were icy. “You’re the one who’s supposed to be reassuring us, remember?”
I squeezed back. “I’m not terrified. I’m, ah, appropriately vigilant.”
“Appropriately terrified,” Mira corrected, and the two of them exchanged identical grins.
As we passed through the archway and into the amphitheater proper, I saw that the sand-covered oval of the arena floor had been transformed.
Twenty elaborate magical stations now stood arranged in a perfect circle.
Each one was housed under a shimmering dome of translucent wards, the protective barriers glowing with the faint blue-white light that meant serious, academy-grade enchantment.
Some stations held suspended tangles of what looked like living vines, dormant and knotted.
Others featured complex lattices of faceted crystal that refracted the morning light into rainbow streaks across the sand.
Several stations contained fountains or basins filled with water.
And furthest away from where I was seated, I spotted a pair of giant lockbox puzzles, more complex versions of the ones Mage-Instructor Mundise had trained us on.
High above the stations, a glowing clock hovered. It would count down the minutes and seconds of the timed rounds.
“Mother’s mercy,” Elio breathed beside me. “I’m glad I went to Mundise’s prep sessions.”
I nodded. “I can’t imagine competing here without some idea of what to expect.”
We found seats in the competitors’ section—a reserved block of benches in the rows closest to the arena floor where we could see everything.
I spotted Lukhan FitzMurad and Damien Corvellan seated one row down and to our left. As if sensing my presence behind him, Lukhan turned and caught my eye for one brief, poisonous moment. Then he turned away to say something to Damien that made Damien’s mouth curl in a smile I didn’t like.
The members of the Circle of the Open Hand were scattered throughout the commoner sections in the upper tiers. Looking around, I saw familiar faces waving at me or nodding encouragement.
Only Alara was missing. Much to her disappointment, Assistant Chatelaine Julissa had refused to give our young friend any time off from her assigned cleaning duties.
Dante Santinus lifted a hand and gave us an encouraging smile. Mavia, seated beside him, gave me a thumbs-up.
“Nervous?” Elio asked, his voice low.
“Yes,” I admitted. I hadn’t been able to choke down more than a bite or two of bread at breakfast.
“Good. Me too.” He grinned. “As Father likes to tell me, if you aren’t nervous, you’ve misjudged the situation.”
Despite the sick churn of nerves in my stomach, I laughed.
Around us, the amphitheater was filling with students. It seemed like the entire population of the academy was packed into the tiers of curved stone.
As usual, the aristocratic students had claimed the lower rows. The commoner students obediently settled into the upper sections, where the view was worse.
Directly opposite the competitors’ section was the dignitaries’ box. There, the faculty and academy administrators had arranged themselves in cushioned chairs that looked much more comfortable than the hard marble benches in the rest of the amphitheater.
I spotted Mage-Instructor Mundise there, along with my other mage-instructors. There were also several strangers seated in the box, wearing dark-blue imperial service livery, and three or four others wearing military uniforms and medals.
A hush fell over the crowd as Chatelaine Lirelle emerged from the arena’s eastern entrance, flanked by her six assistant chatelaines.
As usual, she wore an academic gown in the imperial hue of sapphire blue trimmed with gold thread at the collar and sleeves.
Her gold chatelaine’s badge, set with pearls and diamonds, glittered over her left breast. Her glossy dark hair was pulled up and twisted into a severe knot that emphasized the clean lines of her face.
As she walked onto the low dais set in the center of the arena floor, the crowd fell completely silent.
“Students and staff of the Imperial Academy, and honored guests,” she began, her voice magically amplified. “Welcome to the two hundred and seventy-third annual Aurelian Trials.”
A ripple of applause moved through the stands. I didn’t join in. My hands were too busy clenching my academic gown. My bodice suddenly felt two sizes too small, making it hard to breathe.
“Today marks the beginning of five days of competition that will test our students’ magical knowledge, their practical skills, and their capacity for creative problem-solving under pressure.
” Her gaze swept across the amphitheater, lingering for a fraction of a second on the competitors’ section.
“I expect all the teams competing in this year’s tournament to comport themselves with the dignity and discipline this institution deserves.
Remember, you represent the most promising magical talent at the academy. ”
She paused. The silence stretched.
“Round One of the Aurelian Trials, the Foundations Round, will begin shortly. Twenty teams will compete in the first heat. Our competition heralds will now draw the names of these teams. The remaining teams will compete in the second heat.”
Two academy officials in formal blue robes stepped forward, one carrying a large ceramic urn decorated with the Imperial Academy’s gilded crest, and the other a small wooden table with slender, elegantly turned legs.
They set the table down in front of Chatelaine Lirelle, then put the urn on the table.
My throat went dry. Beside me, Mira’s breathing had gone shallow. Juno had her eyes fixed on the urn with the intensity of someone trying to set it on fire through sheer willpower.
The herald reached into the urn and drew out a slip of parchment.
“First team for Heat One of Round One,” he called, his voice carrying to the uppermost benches. “The Misses Juno and Mira of Bernswick, Station One.”
The twins sprang eagerly to their feet.
I caught Juno’s wrist as she passed me. “Remember what Dante said. The panic bells—”
“We know,” she said. “We practiced, remember? We’ll be fine.”
“Air first if it’s the Crystal Sequence,” I hissed. “Not Water. Air.”
Mira leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to my cheek. “Stop worrying. We’ve got this.”
Then they were gone, descending the stone steps with their backs straight and their heads high, two petite figures in black gowns moving toward the floor of the arena where twenty puzzles awaited them.
That was when I saw what kind of puzzle they had been assigned. A dozen additional warnings and pieces of advice zig-zagged through my head.
I was out of my seat before I’d decided to move.
“Where are you going? They haven’t drawn our name yet.” Elio sounded puzzled.
“There’s something else I need to tell them,” I told him.
“Talisa—” Elio grabbed my arm, hard. “Don’t. You’ll get them disqualified. And us, too.”
“I don’t care.”
Elio didn’t let go. “Yes, you do. We need to win this thing. And we can’t do that if we’re disqualified before we even get the chance to compete. Sit down, Talisa.”
I’d never heard him sound so commanding. I looked down at him and saw no trace of his usual light-hearted expression. He looked surprisingly stern.
The shock of it brought me back to my senses. I’d almost let my emotions control me… and that was something I absolutely couldn’t afford to do when the stakes were so high.
I let out a long breath and collapsed back down on the hard marble bench. “You’re right,” I acknowledged. In a small voice, I added, “Thank you.”
Elio released my wrist and caught my hand as I settled next to him. His fingers felt warm and solid around mine.
“They’ll do fine,” he said.
I nodded. “I know. I’m just worried.”
The heralds kept drawing names.
“Second team: Lord Lukhan FitzMurad and Mr. Damien Corvellan. Station Two.”
A murmur of approval rippled through the noble sections. I watched Lukhan rise from his seat with unhurried grace and descend to the arena floor, Damien following a half-step behind him.
“Third team: Lady Eliana Vernay and Lady Thessa de Mont. Station Three.”
Two fourth-year noblewomen stood and made their way to the arena floor with confident strides.
“Fourth team: Mr. Varen Santinus and Miss Amalia Kassel. Station Four.”
I recognized this team as Dante’s older brother and Mavia’s cousin. Both third-years, both commoners, both wearing the determined expressions of people who had something to prove.
The names kept coming. Fifth team, sixth, seventh. Each time the herald’s hand dipped into the urn, my stomach performed a complicated maneuver that involved several organs I hadn’t known could participate in anxiety.
Elio and I weren’t called.
By the time the herald announced the twentieth and last team for Heat One, dismay washed through me.
The twenty selected teams assembled in the center of the arena floor.
From this distance, Mira and Juno looked heartbreakingly tiny, their black gowns hanging loose on their narrow frames, their postures identical in the way only twins could manage—shoulders back, chins lifted, hands clasped in front of them.
Chatelaine Lirelle raised her hands. The amphitheater fell silent.
“Round One of the Aurelian Trials, the Foundations Round, evaluates raw magical talent, teamwork, and theoretical knowledge.”