Page 113 of The Blood Rites

I stand and head for the exit, but she calls after me. “Luceris?”

I turn.

“Thank you... but I won’t always need saving,” she says.

I nod, unable to speak past the lump in my throat.

As I close the door behind me, I hear the thud of her blade against a practice dummy. The strikes echo down the empty hall.

I hope it gives her something to latch on to.

Some will to keep going.

Because I don’t think I could survive failing her too.

The numbers dwindle with every trial. The tables that once pulsed with false camaraderie now hold only scattered clusters of survivors, isolated and wary.

The Fireborn keep to themselves, a tight knot of dark red uniforms radiating heat. Atheron presides over them, face composed, hair tied back in a slick ponytail, as if I hadn’t launched him through the air only hours ago.

When I enter the hall, his gaze snaps to mine and holds, daring me to look away first.

I choose a seat at an empty table, out of reach but not out of sight. I hope Marissa shows up to keep me company, but I also hope she doesn’t. I hope she’s still training, too focused to remember dinner. Better to stay away while Atheron is here.

A chair scrapes against the floor, and I look up. Kael is here. He slides in across from me, carrying only a bread roll. Nyxen and Vaelis linger nearby, scanning for threats, protecting their prince.

“Busy day?” I joke, but I don’t really expect him to answer.

Kael’s mouth quirks. “It’s been—something.”

He’s evasive as always. But he doesn’t look like a predator tonight. Just another animal trying to stay alive. I wonder what he’s thinking. His face gives away so little.

We sit in silence, picking at our food. Everything tastes like dust, but I’m trying. Kael notices and pushes part of his meagre bread towards me. I take it out of politeness, and something in him eases.

It’s Atheron who cracks first, rising from his table and gliding over, flanked by Maleiros and Serraith. He stops behind me, close enough that I can smell the perfumed oil in his hair. I guess former Crowns have more time to gather supplies when they’re chosen. He rests a manicured hand on my shoulder, the weight light but threatening.

“Enjoying a cosy meal, are we, lovebirds?” he purrs, addressing us both but squeezing my shoulder until it aches. “I see you’ve found yourself a bodyguard. I wonder what you’re offering for such privileges, hmm.”

I wince as the accusation finds a buried wound.

Kael’s eyes don’t leave Atheron’s face. “Did you want something?”

Atheron ignores the question. He leans down, lips almost brushing my ear. “You know, Luceris, I will have to pay you back for that little display in the trial. Still...” He tsks. “You did do me the favour of killing that poor Waterborn girl. Such a wretched people.”

I freeze, blood pulsing hot through my skin.

Kael stands. His chair scrapes against the hard stone, the sound violent. Shadows gather instinctively around his fingers before he forces them still.

Atheron’s smile widens slightly.

“Take your hand off him,” Kael says.

Atheron turns slowly, drawing out the moment.

“Now, now, Prince. We’re all friends here.” He smiles, but it is razor sharp. “I only came over to remind our friend here just how quickly things can change. I find that people get complacent in between trials. They start to get these grand notions that they’re going to survive.”

He drops his hand and straightens, turning his focus to Kael. “But you’re not complacent, are you, Prince?”

“Never,” Kael says, voice flat.