Chapter 45
Hand in hand, Caelus and I step from the waiting room into the bright sunlit arena.
“Rhianne said there will be two specific guards who stand aside when we try to escape,” he whispers. “When it’s time, look for the safe ones.”
I squeeze his hand in understanding, the knot in me too tight to form actual words as my bare feet find hot stone. We’re going to make it out of here. If we produce the shards, they’ll be even easier to steal. This will work.
The heat from the torches above burns golden patterns across the floor. The entire amphitheater pulses with sound—screaming, cheering, chanting. I didn’t expect this to be such a show. The noise slams into me like a wave and knocks my heart sideways.
Every seat is filled.
Skyborn citizens, cloaked in finery, lean forward in anticipation like this is a meal they’ve waited ten years for.
The banners above them snap with the wind—purple and silver, stitched with the symbol of the Citadel: a fist gripping a heart.
Beneath them, the arena floor gleams, inlaid with mirrors and gilded carvings of statues of lovers.
Pearls sear their eyes, sapphires glitter in their crowns, and trails of emeralds trace the folds of their robes.
Gold filigree curls around the gemstones like vines, catching every flicker of light.
It shifts and I notice a faint haze looming over the audience, drifting along the edges of the arena like a thin ring of clouds that wasn’t there when we were here before.
Or maybe it was but I didn’t notice. It shimmers faintly, nearly invisible—just a trick of the light, unless the sun catches it right.
“Do you see that?” I whisper to Caelus. “It’s another Scent.” Scents are like Heartfillers released as gas. “Do you know what kind that one is?”
He glances toward the haze. “That one dulls the connection between the mind and heart, which deadens feelings of empathy—you can watch someone beg for mercy and feel nothing but indifference. Everything produced or grown in Skyhaven is soaked in it.” He pauses.
“That’s why I didn’t mind when they stripped my room.
Less of it for me to breathe. It’s why being in the arena with you was so refreshing. ”
Caelus grips my hand tighter than before. The others emerge behind us.
Ivy’s eyes flicker with nervous glances, as if she’s trying to see every angle at once, searching for a way out—or a way through. I search for the fury she held days ago. The one that made me believe she might finally turn on Rhythe. But I can’t find it. Maybe it was never real in the first place.
Rhythe is a statue, stone-faced and silent beside her.
Kade and Talia stand together, stiff and silent—there is no love between them. Talia’s heavy-lidded eyes are swollen. I watch her for some hint of what she thinks of Rhythe. Has she broken ranks?
As if Talia can hear my thoughts, her gaze snaps to me. Her gray eyes are glassy, but there’s a rage behind them—a storm held back by sheer will.
It gives me a sliver of hope that Rhythe’s plan to kill the Benevolent might destroy him too.
Dorian trails at the rear, eyes sunken, body moving like something half-dead. Still sick with grief over Mae. I move closer to him. “Dorian.”
But he shrugs past me with a harsh glance, too shattered to want to hear anything I could say.
I ache for him. He will be disqualified.
When this goes wrong, will they kill him?
The worry spiraling through me coils around my own fears for Serafina, the orphanage, Caelus and me getting out of here, and it’s tight and suffocating.
I stare straight ahead as we move to the dais at the center of the arena.
Two chalices wait on a pedestal carved from crystal and set in steel. The platform rises above the arena, steps spiraling up from the floor to a throne shadowed beneath golden canopies. There, seated in opulence, the Benevolent watches us.
His glare is ice.
“Ascend! Ascend! Ascend!” The crowd chants over and over.
A rhythm of devotion, of expectation blaring in my ears as we are directed to our own raised platforms, arced around the stage.
The stone floor is warm, polished to a shine so bright it reflects flashes of gold from the overhead torches.
Caelus walks beside me, our hands still locked.
We ascend the short stairs that lead to our designated platform—where the chalices glow on their gold pedestal. The platforms are high enough to give the crowd a clear view of our every expression, every twitch of doubt, every flicker of fear.
The chanting keeps rising, louder, faster, crashing like a storm tide.
I let my gaze drift, like I’m just taking in the ceremony—but every detail sharpens as I register it.
There are more guards than I expected. Flanking each stairwell, posted at every exit, lining the base of the stage like silent statues.
Each one wears the same armor—obsidian black with iridescent trim that catches the light like an oil slick—but it’s their hands that send a chill down my spine.
Their arms are wrapped in thick gloves, the special kind Caelus described.
The kind designed to handle the shards that will come from the kiss.
I study their faces for hints at which are on our side.
But they’re all stoic. Caelus gives me a reassuring smile.
The Benevolent stands and raises a hand, and the crowd falls to a hush.
“Welcome, noble Skyborn, citizens of Skyhaven, the heart of Ethyria. And welcome to you.” He looks at us contestants. “Faithful laborers of the lowborn.” He looks right at Rhythe. His stare hardens and ice skids down my spine.
He knows.
“Tonight was meant to be a celebration,” the Benevolent goes on. “A triumph of love. A crowning of those among us courageous, loyal, and strong enough to become Skyborn.”
A murmur ripples through the crowd.
“But grave news has come to my attention.” He steps closer to the edge of the platform, fingers interlocked behind his back. “Rumors. Confirmed. That not all contestants standing before us love Skyhaven as their performances suggest.”
My breath catches.
Caelus’s grip tightens.
“And so, we must be sure. The stakes are too high. The responsibility of a Skyborn too sacred. We only welcome true patriots into our ranks.” He gestures toward the chalices at the center of the platform. “Tonight, there will be one final test. The Trial of Judgment.”
The words slam through me.
Ivy gasps. Kade takes a step back before catching himself. On the stand beside Caelus and me, Dorian is alone. He stares blankly into the distance, his eyes vacant.
“Each couple will come forward. Together, you will drink from a chalice. Inside is a new Heartfiller I’ve refined and coined the Elixir of Illumination—which will reveal if your bond is true, if your love is real.” He smiles faintly, the way a vulture might smile at a dying thing. “If not…”
He places a hand on his heart.
“What is this?” I whisper to Caelus.
His throat works around a swallow, but he doesn’t respond. He doesn’t let go of my hand, but it isn’t comforting anymore. It’s clammy. Uncertain.
We are the only ones with true love here.
We still have the upper hand. We’re stealing the magic and getting out of here.
And if Rhythe makes his move on the Benevolent before we make the magic, we run.
I squeeze Caelus’s hand, pulling him to me, wondering if he’s assuming the same thing.
But before I can whisper, the Benevolent’s voice rings out again:
“Kade and Talia. Step forward.”
All eyes turn to them.
Talia’s jaw sets, fire lighting behind her eyes. Kade lets out a sharp breath through his nose and strolls forward like it’s all a game. But I can see the tightness in his shoulders. The way his hands twitch slightly as he takes a chalice.
They face each other. The silver liquid inside the cups glow faintly blue, swirling like mist trapped in a bottle.
Together, they lift the cup to their lips and drink.
And it’s like the arena holds its breath.
For a moment, nothing happens.
Then—still nothing.
The Benevolent’s expression hardens. “Nothing,” he says coldly. “No love. Not even a flicker.”
“That doesn’t mean—” Talia starts through gritted teeth.
“Enough. Hold her for rebel interrogation.”
With a gesture, he has two Mercyenforcers seize Talia by the arms. She tries to jerk away. The Benevolent strides over to Kade and grips his shoulder, holding him in place. Kade stills, eyes flicking briefly to his, the barest nod passing between them.
My nails dig into Caelus’s hands. “Did you see that?”
He doesn’t move, stiff beside me. But Talia almost trips as she watches the subtle, silent exchange as she’s dragged off the stage to be held in restraints.
“As heavy as I am at your failure to find love,” the Benevolent goes on to Kade, “I’ve been moved to a heart of mercy, and there will be two winners chosen today: a truest-love match couple and one other individual.
Because there is one prevailing quality worthy of citizenship: patriotism.
Someone who believes in the values of Ethyria and embodies them completely. ”
Dorian shifts a few feet away, and his chin raises.
Rhythe seethes. But he stands there with his eyes closed, as if waiting for something.
The Benevolent’s hold tightens on Kade. “You’ve proven your loyalty to the Citadel.
Long ago, as a Mercyenforcer guard, you resisted the rebels’ recruitment.
When we had to remove all lowborn Mercyenforcers from their posts, you were sent back to your district, but your heart did not harden against us.
You understood why your sacrifice was necessary, and you have continued to serve us loyally.
Your service will no longer go overlooked. ”
A Mercyenforcer steps forward, draping a purple robe over Kade’s shoulders. But I don’t understand. Kade has been working with Rhythe, who wants to kill the Benevolent.