Chapter 14
The Benevolent takes the stage, and the entire arena cheers.
The throne he sat in when I last saw him swallowed him, but here he seems bigger somehow.
He stops to wave, cupping his hands and cheering right back at them.
We, the contestants, are dead silent. Once he settles the audience, he takes his place at the podium, then gestures at a door opposite the arena from the way we came.
Caelus enters.
The audience leaps to their feet, stomping, whistling, some screaming the prince’s name.
Faces light with excitement as thunderous clapping roars through the arena like a storm.
The cheers for the Benevolent were whispers compared to this.
I search the Benevolent for some hint of jealousy, but the ruler of Ethyria extends his hand to his son, unflinching.
“My son, your prince, Caelus Altair,” he says.
Caelus is dressed finely, finer than I’ve seen him before, with tall leather boots and a deep blue coat sewn with a fist holding a heart. His long white hair is neatly tied back. He waves once at the masses before making his way to the chair beside his father on the dais.
Two Mercyenforcers stand on either side of him. Caelus’s smile, once steady, flickers—too tight, held too long. The creases do not reach his eyes. He sits back in the chair, then leans forward a bit, his shoulders rising before sinking, as if he can’t get comfortable.
Something’s wrong.
He skims the contestants’ faces but purposely avoids mine.
I shrink in my seat, trying to slow my skittering pulse.
“Thank you all.” The Benevolent’s voice echoes around the steel walls, and the entire place quiets.
“Welcome to the capstone of our decennial celebration—the Tournament of Hearts, commemorating fifty years of peace in Ethyria.”
Fifty? There have been five Tournaments of Hearts, one every ten years for the last half a century. But the Redwake happened five years before the last one. He’s just going to glaze over that part of history and the thousands who died.
The crowd chants again, “Courage, loyalty, strength.” No one corrects him. It’s his island. He can say what he wants. While people starve, Skyborn are oblivious, misinformed, or maybe they don’t care. I’m not convinced any of those are actually different.
I watch Caelus for some hint of what’s going on, why he seems so nervous, but he stares down at his lap. I scan for the exits with a reckless urge to bolt out of here. If we are discovered…
The thought chokes me.
“Many of you were too young to remember the last tournament,” the Benevolent says.
“But it was a glorious exhibition of Ethyrian courage, loyalty, and strength. As it was then, a breeding pair, that is—two of you—will prove yourselves the same way and embrace love freely as a Skyborn.” He turns to his son.
“But before we review the rules, some words from your loyal prince.”
Caelus takes the podium, still refusing to look at me. A sheen of sweat gathers at his hairline under the bright lights.
“Citizens of Ethyria,” he says. “We have all heard whispers of the old world—of its wild, reckless ‘freedom,’ but you must know real history.” He clears his throat and recites the history I’ve read a thousand times in the books.
“The island of Ethyria was a land with rich potential before my forefathers landed on its shores and established order. It was known as a place plagued with despair. A place where people wandered the streets woefully, where suffering was everywhere, as well as violent disorder and unregulated love. Until my forefathers conquered this natural paradise, rescuing it from a decade-long oppression, ushering it into this sublime Golden Age.”
The arena erupts in applause.
The stories I was told about when the Benevolent’s ancestors arrived in Ethyria blamed the chaos on the king at the time, who suspected his queen of falling in love with a lowborn.
That former king slaughtered the queen’s entire family and the village where they were born.
Then, he ruled all expressions of love and affection across the island outlawed.
Until one of the Benevolent’s ancestors conquered the country and reinstated love and affection just for Skyborn.
But that’s what is whispered in the streets, not written in the books.
The Benevolent would never want anyone to know a royal was ever in love with a lowborn.
Regardless—I can’t help but agree that being in love with someone, like the king and queen were, like Lucent and that girl were, could never be worth its high cost. It always ends badly.
“Now we are the envy of the Sapphire Seas, where everyone has a purpose,” Caelus continues, louder.
“Where everyone knows which cog they are in the wheel. A place where love flourishes for the courageous, loyal, and strong. Where the security of knowing your place, the peace of discipline, the pride of service to something greater than yourself gives us true freedom. May Ethyria, now and forever, be a place for all—”
The crowd joins him, in unison. “To belong, to be happy, to be ruled justly.”
Caelus meets my eyes with a bone-chilling stare.
Then, he returns to his seat. I scope the arena, noting the exits again as the Benevolent goes back to the podium. We’ve been found out. I glare at Caelus, willing him to look at me. Willing him to give me a hint or something, but he is back to ignoring my gaze.
“We are about to test your ability to handle citizenship as a Skyborn,” the Benevolent’s voice booms throughout the arena. I can hear my own heart ramming in my chest.
No one moves.
Citizenship is what everyone came for, whether they want it so they can have access to love or a better quality of life. Or both. I’m not breathing. This tournament holds my fate too.
“The greatest privilege of citizenship is the expression of love, freely,” he says.
“We do not take handing citizenship out lightly here in Skyhaven. You will be tested by three trials: the Trial of Courage, the Trial of Loyalty, and the Trial of Strength, the last of which has a mental, emotional, and physical component. You must pass each trial using whatever skills and advantages you have. But be warned: Your physical abilities are not always your most valuable ones. As you know, I care most about the heart. Being in love is taxing on the mind, so expect to wrestle to think clearly, reason well, and outsmart deception. But the biggest thing to remember is that you cannot survive this tournament by yourself.”
My neck breaks out in a cold sweat.
“Between the trials,” he continues, “you must form connections with one another to figure out who is your strongest truest-love match among the contestants. Being in love will make you stronger, smarter, and better at everything you do. Find the person who your heart beats strongest for and you will find the trials easier to complete. The winning couple will be married by the Bureau of Bonded Union, receive Skyborn citizenship for the rest of their lives, and have a place at Court, living here in the Citadel.” He raises his voice over the whispers. “Additionally.”
The arena silences.
“Every decade gives us the opportunity to improve our tournament to ensure it’s producing the best patriot among you.”
Mae and I share a glance.
Improvements? What kind of improvements?
“The integrity of this competition is paramount. To protect it, we will be judicious in getting rid of anyone who is not here for the right reasons or anyone who tried to enter this tournament with an unfair advantage.” He scans the contestants, and I force myself to loosen my white-knuckled grip on my seat.
“This year there will be a surprise elimination before each trial. Think of it as a quality assurance. The first is this evening. Get those fingerprints or be disqualified, which brings me to our second competition enhancement. Those who are disqualified will remain in the Citadel for a time, to help further our Heartfiller anatomy research.” My heart rams harder.
“And we will be sent home afterward?” someone shouts.
The Benevolent smiles. An eerie expression that shows the white of his large teeth. “Once our research is done, yes, yes, of course.”
I am not breathing.
He’s lying.
I don’t know how I know. But I do. Call it intuition. If disqualified, there is no guarantee we will get home anytime soon.
“And finally,” he goes on, “because I am generous, and know you are all probably nervous, find one last gift from me under your seat.”
We contestants share glances, but no one says anything. Several dig underneath their seats, pulling out a gleaming coral-colored memory Heartfiller.
“One more announcement!” The Benevolent motions for Caelus, who looks like he might faint as he rises to stand beside his father. “For the first time in the history of the Tournament of Hearts, we have a Skyborn participating, hoping to find his truest-love match: your prince.”