“You could say that again.”
“What's going on? You haven't even touched your magic.”
“I wanted to prove that I could beat my opponents without it,” I lied to the king's advisor. “However, I am yet to be successful with that.” I rolled back to a sit, drooping my head between my knees. “This is certainly not how I thought I’d die,” I whispered back.
Lucan followed my form, clasping his hand over my own. “You will not die.” His fingers fumbled around, and he tucked something into my palm before pulling his hand back.
I looked up at him, confusion plastered on my cheeks. “What?—”
He held a finger to his lips. “Our little secret,” he said, then stood up and left without another word.
I glanced around to make sure no one was looking before I unclenched my fist. I held a small capsule, turquoise and shining in my palm. Ridgeroot—I would know the color of the crushed herb anywhere. Where did he get such a delicacy? And why would he give it to me?
It didn't matter. Ridgeroot had power enhancing abilities, which the gods knew I could use. If I took the capsule, it was cheating. If I didn't, I very well could die.
Quite the moral dilemma.
The familiesof the losing soldiers were invited to come to their executions later that evening.
The wails released from their loved ones as the losers were hung were sounds I would never erase from my memory. I could hear them all the way from my bedchambers, despite closing my window tightly when I arrived back.
I was bloody and bruised from my last trial. I had almost lost again—my attempt to break through my opponent's shield failed. There was too much chaos for me to effectively wield, but I did try. Luckily, I was able to jam the tip of my sword in his thigh, just deep enough to make him bleed, but lameenough to keep him from bleeding out. When he stumbled and fell to his back in agony, I was declared the winner.
He lost his last trial.
I bet it was his mother’s sobs I heard from my window.
I cried in the shower, though my tears were not as heavy as those of the losers when they discovered that they would soon die. They tried to run, tried to fight the guards as they pulled them towards the dungeons, but they had no say in their fate.
Dressed but still in shock, it took me a moment to react to the soft knock on my door. I shuffled to the entryway, pulling the handle open to reveal Sawyer.
“Hey.”
“Hey,” I answered.
“You okay?”
I choked back the truth and nodded.
“Need some company?”
I nodded once more.
Chapter
Twenty-Eight
The clock hanging on the stone wall ticked loudly, the sound cursing my ear drums. Only minutes left until noon. I leaned against the corridor across from King Hawthorne’s study, waiting eagerly for the meeting to begin, simply so I could get it over with.
Footsteps thudded along the floor of the corridor. I didn't look towards the sound, knowing it was Sebastian by the way his boots echoed on the marble.
Even though I hadn't been training with him, he still came to my meetings. The king didn't know that Sawyer had been training and guarding me for the past two and a half months. At least I don’t think he did. He probably wouldn't have minded much anyway, as long as I was still doing what he wished.
I stared straight ahead, focusing on the door of the study so I didn't have to make eye contact with Sebastian as he approached. Of course he decided to come stand right beside me, leaning back against the wall and tilting his head to the side towards me.
“Good afternoon.”
When I didn't return his greeting, he said, “I’m glad you didn’t die.”
