Chapter 31
Wrath
Morning spills like honey over the long stone table, softening the courtyard’s edges. Fairies flit through rose-laced trellises, scattering pollen and bright, prickly magic, their wings humming like bee-song.
I sit with Mariel, Cassy, and Seraphina. Our plates gleam with pastries and sliced fruit, but we only push the food around. The final Trial hangs over us like a vicious icicle.
Mariel pops a raspberry and side-eyes me. “So… sleep well?”
I sip my pear juice. “Perfectly. Thanks for asking.”
“Mmhmm.” She nudges my foot. “Still waking up in a cave bed, or has royalty learned to share?”
Before I can answer, Seraphina sets her cup down with delicate precision. “It’s no mystery why the king takes such a… generous… interest.”
“He’s training me for the Trial,” I say, keeping my voice level.
“Of course he is,” she purrs. “A crown-shaped safety net. How quaint.”
Mariel cuts her a look, but I refuse to take the bait.
Across from us, Cassy reaches for bread but doesn’t lift it. Her fingers tremble. “The flame burns brightest just before it dies,” she whispers.
We all turn.
“What was that?” Mariel asks, voice soft with worry.
Cassy blinks. “Nothing. Just a thought.”
It isn’t. Not with the haunted hollowness in her eyes.
The silence stretches thin between us.
I lean in. “We’re walking into the Trial blind. I’m training with Keiren, but that’s not enough. We need to get stronger. All of us. Together.”
Seraphina arches a brow. “You want a group lesson?”
“Yes. We’ve survived this long; we owe each other more than luck.”
“I’m in,” Mariel says immediately.
Cassy meets my gaze and gives the faintest nod.
Seraphina smirks. “I don’t need remedial sparring to prove my worth. But if you’re offering a fight…”
“Training,” I correct her.
“Same thing.”
I push my plate away. “It’s settled, then. I’ll speak to Keiren.”
“Of course you will.” Seraphina rolls her eyes.
I stand, the summer sunlight hot across my neck. Inside me, a wick catches.
We’ll prepare. For whatever comes.
The training chamber comes to life when we enter. Enchanted torches flare, and shadows tuck themselves into the carved ribs of stone. Racks of weapons gleam like teeth. As we wait, we stretch in a loose ring, following the warmups Keiren has drilled into me.
Finally, the doors swing open, and Keiren strides in, dressed in black leather and sharp annoyance. His eyes find mine first, slide to the others, then back to me, laden with a single question: What have you done now, Fire?
Mariel rolls a shoulder. Cassy hovers near the wall, pale but present. Seraphina leans on a pillar, inspecting her nails, bored.
Keiren stops for a beat, his jaw tight. “This is not what we discussed.”
I meet him halfway, voice low. “Then we’re discussing it now.”
His mouth twitches. “This is our time. I thought—”
“It still is,” I say. “Train all of us. Or none.”
“You’d help your competition?”
“They’re not competition; they’re my friends. And they deserve the same chance I’ve had.”
His eyes darken—the look that always steals my breath. “You know,” he murmurs, “I love it when you’re bossy.”
A ridiculous grin flashes before disappearing into a sigh. He rakes a hand through his hair. “Fine. But they’ll hate you for this.”
“They can hate me and live.”
His smile crooks into something dangerous. “I almost hope they do,” he mutters, then turns to address everyone. “Welcome to hell, ladies.”
Mariel winces. Seraphina rolls her eyes. Cassy only stands there looking grim.
***
The first day is awkward. Cassy shadows the wall. Mariel tries a joke that dies on the stone. I lose count of Seraphina’s eye rolls. Keiren is all command and gravity—no teasing, and not the slightest ounce of indulgence.
“Again,” he snaps, correcting Mariel’s grip on her blade with a flick of his. “A soft grip will get you killed.”
“And your tone will get you stabbed,” she mutters back.
“Good. Now you’re listening.”
I translate where I can, pair people up, keep the wheels turning. They’re not soldiers, just girls with shaky hands and shallow breaths and courage anyway.
Day two breathes easier. Cassy partners with Mariel, and they spar with wooden blades, Mariel giggling when they miss a cue. The sound is brittle, but it still helps break the tension.
Seraphina insists on fighting me. We circle, all dresses and leather, twin blades and breath. She’s been trained—in fencing, most likely—and fights with all the grace of a dancer.
“Try not to cry when I disarm you.” She smirks.
“I’ll try not to laugh when you don’t.”
We end in a draw, but her training blade’s edge kisses my ribs too close. Keiren’s eyes narrow. I give him the tiniest shake of my head, and he lets it go.
On day three, we finally start to hit our stride, finding rhythm in the warmups and drills.
Then Keiren’s voice cuts through. “Fire. Seraphina. Again.”
We take our positions.
This time, she doesn’t toy with me. Lightning in silk, she drives forward with a vengeance. I block, pivot, answer.
Something feral glints in her eyes. She doesn’t want to win. She wants to break me.
I sweep her legs and send her down hard. Her blade skitters out of her hands. I can feel the line on my cheekbone where she’s grazed me. My side throbs where she landed a shot meant to bruise. We stare at each other, bristling.
Keiren’s steps hit stone, fast and hard. He materializes beside me, glaring at Seraphina.
“Watch it,” he growls, his voice low.
Seraphina rises, her smile sharp as a knife. “Didn’t realize your precious Fire needed shielding.”
Shadows pool at his boots.
I step between them. “I’m fine.”
He looks at me with barely restrained fury—and says nothing.
Without warning, Seraphina lunges again, her blade angled for my ribs.
I roll, palms scraping stone as I evade the blow.
“You don’t belong here,” she spits. “You’re not one of us. I was trained for this. Born for this. You’re just his favorite plaything.”
Heat roars through my arms. I kick the back of her knee. She staggers; I surge. Steel sings as our blades meet. The training ring contracts to breath and edge and choice.
Her blade nicks my arm. “You really think he’ll pick you?” she hisses.
I drive an elbow into her shoulder. She shoves back; I go down and roll with it.
“Pathetic,” she snarls. “Maybe I’ll do the keep a favor and end you.”
She raises her blade, but I catch her wrist and twist it viciously. She stumbles and hits stone, her sword clattering uselessly to the side. I jolt forward and press my blade to her throat.
Her eyes widen. The room stills.
My pulse is a drum. The world narrows to a bright point. I could.
It doesn’t matter that it’s a training blade; enough force, and it will crush her throat for good, if not skewer it.
“Do it!” she screams up at me. “Show him what you are.”
Hands lock around my waist and haul me backward.
“Enough!” Keiren bellows.
My blade clatters to the ground, and air floods into my lungs in ragged breaths. The drum in my chest won’t stop.
“I had her,” I snarl, fighting his grip.
“We’re done,” Keiren says. The command cracks through the chamber like lightning. Even Seraphina flinches. He slings me unceremoniously over his shoulder like a sack of grain.
I pound on his back, screeching, “Put me down!”
He doesn’t. He storms us up a narrow stairway, through a short corridor, into a private room lined with books and blades. A study. A war room.
He shuts the door and sets me back on my feet.
“You didn’t need to interfere,” I snap.
“Didn’t I?”
“I won.”
“You nearly killed her.”
“She wanted to kill me.”
“And you almost let her. Not by dying. By becoming her,” he accuses.
Pain spears behind my eyes, and I sway. He anchors my elbows.
“That’s Noctyras,” he says. “The blood here lingers. Spill it in rage, and it roots. Blood rage. A sickness. It’s all part of the curse, Fire. Don’t let it taint you, too.”
Another stab of pain. I press a palm to my temple.
“Stop calling me Fire,” I choke, the fissure in my voice a fault line. “That’s not—”
The surge of pain crests, and I fold into myself. “It hurts,” I whisper. “I want to break something. I want to feel nothing. I don’t know how to stop it.”
He steps closer, hands open, careful. “There’s something I can do. But you won’t like it.”
“Do it,” I say. “Please.”
He doesn’t hesitate. His mouth finds mine.
It’s not gentle, but neither is it cruel. It’s a tether thrown into a storm, a lifeline to something that isn’t hate.
His hands cradle my face; his thumbs catch tears I didn’t feel fall. I grip his forearms like rope and let the fury drain into pressure and breath. The edges of my vision blur, but the ache inside loosens. The world climbs down from that bright, terrible point.
When he pulls back, I’m shaking for a different reason.
“I wanted to do it,” I whisper. “I wanted to.” The truth tastes like iron.
“I know, love.” His gaze is steady. “But you didn’t.”
“Will it happen again?”
He doesn’t look away. His palm cups my jaw; his forehead rests against mine. “I won’t let this place take you,” he breathes. “Not while I still breathe.”
For a moment, neither of us does.
Then I lean into him, just enough. I’m still me. I can choose that. But stars, it scares me how close the other thing felt.
And worse yet, in that moment, I didn’t want to come back.
Evening softens the halls when I slip back to the girls’ quarters. I expect silence, or maybe Seraphina sharpening a blade in the corner like a promise.
Instead, Mariel perches on a chair, rummaging through a box of salves. Cassy is curled in the window seat, small and still. Vivian is away—most likely fetching tea and bread on Mae’s orders.
“You’re either very brave,” Mariel says without looking up, “or very foolish.”
“Both,” I say quietly, stepping in.
She glances at the cut on my cheek. “Lucky, too. Hold still.” She dabs on something that stings. “Unless you want a new scar.”
“Too late.”
She smirks. “Don’t pretend you didn’t see it.”
“See what?”
“The way he looked.” She sits back. “Right after you nearly carved Seraphina, he looked like he wanted to finish the job for you.”
“He’s just trying to help keep us alive,” I say, tucking hair behind my ear.
“Mmhmm. And dragons are just overgrown lizards.”
Cassy doesn’t move. Her arms are wrapped around her knees, her gaze fixed on the narrow window. Her lips move like a desperate prayer.
“The moon weeps,” she whispers. “The beast stirs… Blood feeds the root…”
Mariel and I exchange a worried look.
I go to her. “Cassy. It’s me.”
Her eyes dart to mine. Something flickers—recognition, regret—and then she looks away.
“The garden will burn,” she murmurs. “The veil will tear. He will rise. And fall.”
“Okay,” Mariel says carefully. “She’s getting creepier.”
I pull a blanket over Cassy’s legs and smooth a curl away from her brow. “I’ll stay tonight,” I say. “She shouldn’t be alone. If Keiren wants to know where I am, he can find me himself.”
But even as I sit, the air shifts. A pulse moves through stone and spell, subtle as a breath, undeniable as the tide. The draft down the corridor carries a thread of sound.
A whisper. A promise. Or a warning.