River clears his throat. ‘Welcome to training,’ he says. ‘These sessions are designed to prepare you for the trials ahead. There are three in total, each set a month apart. After every trial, the weakest link will be eliminated from the Choosing, yet they will remain here, at the palace, to attend the Binding Ceremony and coronation.’
Marina glances round the pool, sizing up her competition. ‘When is the first trial?’
‘That is for the emperor to decide,’ River tells her.
‘Has anyone ever died during the trials?’ Marina asks this question casually, as though she were enquiring about the weather.
There is an uncomfortable pause, then River says, ‘Once or twice, over the years.’
I feel myself grow cold.
‘While the death of an Heir is not unheard of, it is a rare tragedy, and one we strive to avoid at all costs,’ River continues. ‘And, though I cannot tell you what the nature of these trials will be, I will do everything in my power to ensure that you are ready to face whatever the Council intend to throw at you. All I ask for in return is your trust. Do I have it?’
I force my head to nod along with the others. River smiles. ‘Good. We will begin, I think, with a small display of your talents. Fjord, shall we start with you?’
Fjord is a sickly-looking boy, pale and thin with eyes that are a murky colour, like puddles at the side of a road. I watch as he makes a small curving motion with his hand, as though painting a spiral on a canvas. The pool begins to churn, the water slapping the sides and sloshing over the edges. Fjord repeats this same movement until a large, perfect wave rears and breaks before him. The moment he drops his hand, the water calms.
‘Good,’ says River. ‘Kai, you next.’
Kai raises both hands above the pool and closes his eyes. For a few moments, nothing happens. Then I hear a harsh, scraping sound. I watch as a thin layer of ice spreads across the water, coating the surface, crackling and hissing as it goes.
River nods approvingly. ‘Excellent. Marina?’
Fish Bitch steps forward, shooting me a particularly dirty look as she holds out a hand, palm facing upward. Slowly, her fingers begin to curl into a fist. For a moment nothing happens. Then steam erupts from the frozen pool, burstingup in great plumes through the sheet of solid ice, filling the air with hot, heavy moisture.
I wipe my sleeve across my brow. Marina’s eyes meet mine – a challenge.
Suddenly the water begins to froth violently. With a delicate flick of her wrist, Marina carves a perfect wave, which comes crashing down in front of me, spraying my legs with boiling water. I spring backwards with a yelp, causing Fjord to hoot with laughter. I stare at the floor, my cheeks burning hotter than my shins.
‘That is quite enough, Marina,’ says River sharply.
‘Sorry,’ she replies, not sounding sorry in the slightest.
River turns to me. ‘Blaze. It’s your turn.’
That wipes the smirk off Fjord’s face. ‘Are you sure that’s a good idea?’ he splutters. ‘I mean, given who she is.’
River turns his head a fraction to look at him. ‘I thank you for your guidance, Fjord.’
Pink blotches appear on Fjord’s pale neck.
‘I am going to say this once and once only,’ River continues, his hand resting on the silver trident at his hip. ‘To those among you who bear any animosity or prejudice towardsanyof your fellow Heirs, I would ask you to leave those feelings at the door. For those who do not heed this request will find themselves in very deep water.’
I stare at him in astonishment, but he’s not finished.
‘No student of mine will resent another for that which was outwith their control. No student of mine will pass judgement, hold grudges or flaunt their ignorance of matters about which they understandverylittle. Do I make myself clear?’
One by one, the others begin to nod. Solemnly, like Kai, and sourly, like Marina and Fjord. I look down at my feet. No one has ever defended me like that. Not even Grandmother, who trained me from childhood to be grateful and graceful, or Flint, who prefers to act as though the storm never happened at all.
When River speaks again, his voice is softer. ‘Blaze. Please, go ahead.’
I swallow hard, tucking a few loose wisps of hair behind my ears.
It’s said that when the Rain Singers called the rain, they heard a song of such indescribable beauty that it pierced the soul. I’ve often wondered whether I heard such a song all those years ago when I summoned that storm. Whether I will ever hear it again.
Taking a deep breath, I wait, or ratherhope, for something to happen.
A painful minute trickles by, the silence broken up by a few muffled sniggers.
