CHAPTER 4 #3
Rayna seemed smaller, younger, beside Echon, his signature cruel smirk etched across his lips as they took the oath and he led her out the mess hall.
I swallowed the hard lump in my throat and blinked against the hot tears pressing at the corners of my eyes as the memory of what he had done to Umma resurfaced.
I will not cry. Not in front of them.
Lana’s name was called next, and it distracted me enough for the fog of sorrow to clear momentarily.
It did not come as much of a surprise when Lana was paired with Septimus.
His golden eyes, so similar to Osmanthius’, skimmed the length of Lana’s body as she stood from her seat and made her way to the center.
I knew that look on his face, the appreciation that gleamed in his eyes.
He murmured something to her, his lips nearly brushing her ear as he leaned down, and then she nodded. Their hands joined and it was done. Lana turned, giving me a watery smile as she was led out the door.
And then it was just Kilian and I. Alone. My heart gave a nervous contraction, all of yesterday’s adrenaline-fueled bravado vanished.
He gave me an uninterested look. “As you may have astutely ascertained, you’ll be under my instruction, Golund.”
Ignoring the misnomer of my surname, I swung my legs over the bench and stood. “What a shocker.”
His brows raised and then his eyes narrowed. “You knew.”
“Your shadow sprite has a shitty poker face.”
The corner of his lip curled infinitesimally. “Speaking of, you’ve offended Calendula gravely.”
“She offended me first.” Each step I took toward him brought me closer to his unmistakable power. It was so heady that I felt lightheaded, but I carried on until I was standing in front of him.
“You should offer her strawberries. Works like a charm.”
“Strawberries?” I peered up at him. The top of my head barely skimmed the planes of his broad shoulders. Up close, I could see faint embers of gray in those bright silver eyes.
“They’re hard to come by in the Shadow Soil, where she usually lives. Are you ready to take the oath?” His voice still had that hard edge to it, but there was something curious in his gaze as he searched my own.
I nodded, commanding my thumping heart to calm down.
His eyes held me captive, just as they had the night he had taken me from my home. “Do you swear to complete the Mortal Trials to your best ability and accept my guidance for the remainder of your mortal life?”
I paused, my lungs squeezing painfully in my chest. I had gone over this again and again last night while I tossed and turned in bed. There was no escaping the Trials without death. I had no choice but to participate. It was the only slim chance I had of survival.
I nodded once more and took a step forward so that our hands would join.
Callused fingers engulfed my own, his skin rough against mine. A current shot up the side of my palm, tingling along my entire arm like a shockwave.
I yanked my hand from his grip. “Did you feel that too? What just happened?”
“It was the oath.” Kilian shoved his hand into his pocket. “We’ve been linked.”
“What does that mean?” I was aware of how high-pitched my voice had become, but I felt different.
More awake. My surroundings were crisper, the air cleaner, colors brighter.
And I was acutely aware of him. Stranger still, I felt anger, so stark and raw it made me tremble.
I loosened a breath, trying to expel some of it. It didn’t work.
“The sacred oath is upper magic,” he said, casual indifference in his voice.
“It links a candidate to their instructor so they might know when their candidate is in danger, how they’re feeling, if they’re intending to defect from the Trials.
It’s a helpful tool to determine whether your candidate has died during a challenge. ”
How they’re feeling? The nonchalance in his tone proved that he either did not understand or simply did not care about how invasive and utterly intrusive that would be. My bet was on the latter. My anger intensified, hot as a poker.
“Why didn’t you tell me first?” I snapped.
“Would it have changed your decision to accept?”
He knew it would not have. I had no choice but to accept the oath, to accept my position in the Mortal Trials.
Accept, accept, accept. I was a lamb brought to Lortan for the slaughter and both he and I knew I had no say in anything that happened here.
Fury whistled in my ears, my emotions heightened to their breaking point.
I wanted to punch something. I wanted to punch him.
I ought to douse the entirety of Valhan House in gasoline to find out whether elven flesh burned the same as mine.
“To link us, the oath transfers a grain of my power to you. Only a grain,” Kilian continued, as if he was oblivious to the rage singing in my bones.
“It’s barely even registrable, but it allows me to keep tabs on you at all times.
So, if you were thinking of doing something stupid…
” Silver shards of ice hardened in his eyes.
“Don’t. There is nowhere you can run where I won’t find you. ”