Chapter Thirteen
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Mira
The town square was packed with people, but they were unnaturally still. Even the children who looked on with eager eyes – too young to Choose – were respectful and quiet. There was no trading or jostling today.
Celeste wasn’t in the crowd. She was back at the circus, packing up our things. ‘Say your goodbyes quickly,’ she’d told me. ‘We leave tonight.’
I felt shaky with nerves, my palms sweaty. Now that I was here, I wasn’t sure whether I was making the right decision. If I went through with this, would my mother ever forgive me? But if I backed down, I wouldn’t get another chance. The whole point of the Trials was to choose candidates worthy of being gifted magic – and only eighteen-year-olds were deemed malleable and strong enough to receive powers during Initiation.
‘Have you seen Aric?’ Lillian called, pushing her way through the mass of people.
I shook my head. ‘I haven’t seen him since the royal reception.’
She nodded distractedly, her eyes on the stage in front of us. Then her gaze fixed on me. ‘Are you going to do it?’
I was saved from answering by the sound of hoofbeats. The royal representatives were impossible to miss as they rode into view, their fair hair streaming behind them. Three wore black armour, marking them as members of the Order of Warriors. They sat astride jet-black stallions – beautiful beasts, trotting in uniform, precise lines. Legend had it they were originally racing horses from the Western Lands. When the Zigilian queen had visited Ravalia, long ago, she had given the royal family one of her prized breeding stallions as a gift.
A large crimson coach glided behind the Zigilian stallions, and I caught a glimpse of two guards sitting beside the driver. Whoever was inside must be important. They were definitely from one of the Orders – but which?
When the horses reached the stage in the centre of the square, a heavyset man at the front of the procession dismounted. He removed his helmet, displaying a strong face with a square jaw and a battle scar through his right eyebrow, giving the impression of a permanent frown.
‘Islanders,’ General Tiran called, his voice projecting effortlessly over the hushed crowd, ‘today is a day of celebration. Today, your children will choose to compete in the Trials. For the lucky few accepted into an Order, a life of privilege and glory awaits.’
His words might have been inspirational, if it wasn’t for the flat, bored tone he delivered them in – and their similarity to his speech the year before. I wondered if General Tiran resented this assignment. Perhaps he felt his time would be better spent elsewhere.
The coach rolled to a stop next to the stage, and a woman stepped out. Even from a distance, she was intimidating. Her ebony hair was cut short, accentuating her olive skin and cool dark eyes. Everything about her was sharp and precise, from the form-fitting leather she wore to the red torque glinting at her throat. But what captured my attention was the mask covering the top half of her face, glittering like obsidian.
‘What’s someone from the Order of Masks doing here?’ I whispered to Lillian. In all the Choosing Ceremonies I had attended, no one had ever announced their candidacy for the Masks.
Lillian didn’t reply; I wasn’t sure if she even heard. She was scanning the crowd for Aric, her entire body tense.
Behind the mask, the woman’s black eyes locked with mine – as if she somehow knew I was focused on her.
I immediately dropped my gaze, glancing back at General Tiran, who was inviting the male candidates forward.
Unsurprisingly, Nikolas was first in line. He walked with confidence, the kind of confidence that came from having everything handed to you your whole life, and even I had to admit he looked the part. The Warriors took note as he passed, giving him considering glances.
But their reaction was nothing compared to the awed murmur for Nikolas’s friend Brutus. In a show of favouritism, his father was even in attendance today – the senior Warrior standing at General Tiran’s right-hand side. He clapped his son proudly on the back as he passed.
I felt sick as I took in Brutus’s height and powerful build. As the child of an Order member, he was guaranteed admittance into the Trials, and was almost certain to join the Order of Warriors. I had no such guarantee: if General Tiran deemed me unsuitable, he could deny me the opportunity to compete. It would be the ultimate humiliation – to fail before I even had the chance to try .
Lillian squeezed my hand tightly as Aric strode towards the stage. With his focused expression and set shoulders corded with muscle, he resembled a Warrior already. The general studied him appraisingly, as if he thought the same.
But I didn’t think General Tiran caught the hard glint in Aric’s eyes as his gaze locked, just for a second, with mine. If he had, it might have unsettled him as much as it did me. It might have been enough to give him pause.
Because there was nothing more dangerous than a young man – a Warrior – who believed he had nothing left to lose.
‘And now, for the female candidates.’
No one came forward. No one spoke.
Lillian’s nails dug into my arm, hard enough to draw blood. For a moment, it felt like everyone was holding their breath.
‘If that’s it,’ General Tiran said impatiently, ‘then we will progress to—’
‘Wait.’
A second after the word left my lips, I realised I was the one who had spoken.
The people nearest to me backed away, others craning their necks to peer in my direction. I left Lillian and climbed the steps to the raised platform, keeping my head held high. I wanted the general to think of me as someone like Aric: confident and capable. But I couldn’t have felt more terrified.
General Tiran’s pewter eyes were impassive, but I could see the surprise on his face. ‘And you are . . . ?’
‘Mira Tundra, sir,’ I answered, swallowing.
Everyone was staring. All the candidates, the Warriors, the crowd. Even the masked woman from the coach, whose bottomless eyes bored into mine like she was searching for something.
‘Mira Tundra,’ the general repeated slowly. ‘I assume you’re competing for a position within the Order of Artisans?’
I shook my head. My gaze found Aric’s, who was watching me steadily. He nodded encouragement.
‘No,’ I said, but my voice was too soft. The general leant in, trying to hear me. ‘No,’ I said more loudly. ‘I’m competing for the Order of Warriors.’
The general’s heavy gaze turned calculating. I knew what he saw – what they all saw. A young woman, slight for her age, blessed with a handful of pretty features and wearing a homespun dress. Even if I’d announced I wanted to be an Artisan, they might have been sceptical. But one of the empire’s legendary five hundred Warriors? That just seemed absurd.
General Tiran hesitated. ‘The Order of Warriors,’ he repeated.
A smattering of laughter rang out in the audience. On the other side of the stage, Nikolas was openly smirking.
‘That’s right,’ I said firmly. ‘I want to be a Warrior.’
The general considered me for another moment before jerking his hand towards the others. ‘Go on, then,’ he said, and in a lower voice: ‘I hope you know what you’re doing, girl.’
As I crossed the stage to stand with my competition – all bigger and stronger than I was – I hoped so too.
General Tiran gave us the night, to say our goodbyes. Tomorrow morning, we would leave for Ravalia.
Aric was hugging his sister tightly, his eyes closed as he leant into the embrace. His mother was crying, tears streaming down her face. I wanted to join them, but it wasn’t the time. As much as they cared about me, their attention was on Aric now. As it should be.
I wove through the square, my sense of dread increasing with every step. I didn’t regret keeping my plans from my mother – not really. She wouldn’t have let me announce my candidacy if I’d told her what I was going to do. But I knew this was going to hurt her, and I wasn’t sure if our relationship would ever be the same.
‘That was a brave thing you did.’
I turned to see the masked woman from earlier, observing me with those unnatural black eyes. I’d never seen eyes that dark, and they gave me a chill. Like they suck in all the light.
‘I didn’t do it to be brave. I did it because I know I can become a Warrior.’
‘I don’t doubt it,’ she said after a pause, considering me intently. It was the same expression she’d worn when our eyes had locked in the crowd, and it was no less disconcerting for the second time.
‘Well,’ I said, suddenly uneasy, ‘I’d better get back. My mother will be wondering where I am.’
‘I’ll walk with you,’ the woman replied, motioning two Warriors forward with a careless hand.
Unable to think of a polite way to decline the offer, I said nothing. We started walking, her guards flanking us at a polite distance.
‘You remind me of someone,’ she commented, ‘but I can’t place who it is. I don’t usually have much cause to come to the Elusive Isles. Is your mother from Ravalia?’
‘No.’ I was careful to keep my expression bland, but my pulse sped up, the question sending warning bells ringing in my mind.
You’re being paranoid, I told myself. What are the chances she’s ever met my mother? And even if she has, she’s clearly no criminal.
I studied the woman carefully as we made our way through the cobblestone streets. Her fitted black combat clothes drew my interest: they were made of a strange material that gleamed like scales. Feathers extended from her shoulders, giving her an avian appearance.
‘Are you a Warrior, too?’
The woman smiled, just the thinnest tilt of her red lips. ‘Not in the way you mean.’
She seemed content to let the silence linger. I tried to do the same, but my curiosity was overpowering.
‘What’s your name?’
‘Names are powerful things,’ she said. Her stare lingered so long that I began to think she wasn’t going to answer at all. Then she told me carefully, ‘Zandri is the name I use.’
I puzzled over the strangeness of her words. Zandri is the name I use . Not Zandri is my name. The distinction suggested that those two things were different, and I couldn’t understand why they would be. But she didn’t explain further.
Her sharp eyes remained on me as we walked through the ring of tents, and I cursed my bad luck. No one had ever shown much interest in me before, especially not someone so obviously important, and far from being flattered, I was starting to feel panicked. Where could I take her? Should I try to lose her amongst the tents?
But no – that would be foolish. There was no point drawing unnecessary attention and damaging my chances in the Trials. Not when I didn’t know if there was any danger.
‘I’m good from here,’ I said when we reached the main tent, hoping Zandri would take the hint and leave.
Instead, she addressed her guards. ‘Stay here,’ she instructed, and followed me inside.
Celeste was sitting at one of the far stalls, closest to the raised stage. She set down a stack of cards and smiled at my arrival. That smile disappeared the moment she noticed Zandri, who studied my mother with a sharp sort of intensity that put me on edge. My mother, whose face was suddenly bloodless and afraid.
‘Adalyn.’ Zandri’s lips curved into a slow smile, but it wasn’t a kind smile. ‘How unexpected, seeing you again.’
She stepped closer, her next words stopping my heart—
‘Seeing you alive. ’