I whip my hand back. “None of them.”
“You have to pick one.”
I don’t like this game. It feels like a trap.
I point to a lichen-covered stone. “That.”
“The rockfish?” He tilts his head. “Clothed in constant camouflage?”
Shit me.
Exasperated, I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Can we get started? It’s been a long day. I want to get this over with.”
A pause, then he waves a clothed arm toward the bowl. “Get in, then.”
“I’m sorry, you want me toclimb in?”
“Yes,” he states. “The trial imitates the swell of beings that spilled from Mount Ether at the dawn of time. Only once you manage to climb backouton your own have the Gods found you worthy of this coupling. A task you must complete before the people of Parith on the morning of your ceremony.”
I look at the water, remembering the last time I was submerged in a pool such as this—choking on life-altering memories I’ll never be able to scrape away. “This is—”
“What?”
Ridiculous.
“Nothing,” I mutter, kicking off my boots and unpinning the heavy cloak from around my throat, lumping it on the ground. I look down at myself, indicating my attire with a sweep of my hand. “What about ...?”
“The tailor will come by your room and take your measurements for the proper apparel. If you’d like to wait until—”
“No,” I snip. “It’s fine. So I just … climb in and climb back out again?”
“Correct. On your own.”
I work my healing shoulder into a deep stretch. “That’s it?”
“Yes. Should you fail, bat the bell, and I’ll throw a rope ladder into The Bowl which you can use to climb back out. You can practice all you want, but if you cannot complete the task on the morning of your coupling, you are not worthy of this great privilege that has been bestowed upon you.”
Seems a bit harsh. Perhaps I should shove him in there and see how he fares. Or Cainon.
I’d like to see that.
I edge close, sit my ass on the side, and study the water that looks like a pool of ink, heart kicking against my ribs …
Not Puddles.
A different pool.
Swallowing the lump rising in my throat, I drag a shuddering breath and shove off, sliding down the glassy slope. I plunge into the warm water, engulfed in a body-temperature gulp.
The deeper I sink, the more it feels like my ribs are caving in …
Is this my last breath?
Is something about to snag me from below—refuse to let me go until I relive that night again? Until I hear my mother’s bloodcurdling scream? See my brother’s blank eyes staring at the wall? Feel my skin split to make way for ropes of wrath spilling from that place of hurt deep inside my chest?
White-hot dread severs my internal reins …
I flail.
