Page 74 of Hellbound

After the streets fell quiet, Ksenia pushed herself up to stand and retrieved her scattered belongings, turning for the manor with a twisted smile.

The next trial was a few days off, and she had her own work to see to first.

20

Ksenia had spent days poring over the book of anti-venoms, cross-referencing what she could with the tomes in the library. But at the end of the day, she was neither an apothecary nor a medical practitioner. The words made her eyes glaze over, and she spent more time trying to understand the simplest of terms before she could learn about the ingredients the book referred to.

It was clearly a book meant for a trained professional, covering all manner of venoms on the continent.

But still, she had read it cover to cover. Then again. And once more for good measure.

Varka began making fun of her bookish habit at dinner, when Ksenia brought down pages of notes and inkwells to continue studying. She wasn’t sure what it meant, but the pristine book had become worn and frayed with Ksenia’s repeated flipping. She couldn’t afford to let the clue go to waste, not when she was still in the midst of the deadly Sevrant trials, and Danika was confirmed alive. They both had a chance, and screwing up for lack of preparation was not an option.

In the sparring hall, the evening before the second trial was due to start, Varka was unable to disarm Ksenia a single time. Try as she might, Caromir remained lodged in Ksenia’s hand, as if tethered by an invisible force.

Ksenia decided to test her limits with Caromir; power was nothing without control, as she was beginning to learn. If Ksenia could avoid harming Varka and still best her, she would demonstrate her control over Caromir.

Her growing bloodlust had produced an equally growing web of anxiety. After killing the man who’d extorted Rinna, Ksenia had been itching for a fight. Had she not been stunned by Tivan, she might have sought to kill him right then and there.

She caught herself replaying sick fantasies about the murders. The way it’d feel to take their lives and be struck with a bolt of pure power that would invigorate her from head to toe.

It felt like a dangerous path to continue down, but she was becoming more eager with each step.

The pair reached stalemate after stalemate, Ksenia’s body screaming with exertion and Varka finally breaking a sweat. But a gleaming smile also graced the noblewoman’s face as they sat on the chalk-strewn floor, spent.

“You will be a champion to end all champions. I can see it now.” It was the highest praise Varka had ever deigned to bequeath upon her, and she felt a glow from within her chest. She had never depended on others for self-gratification, but this felt different. Sisterly.

She leaned in and whispered, “You will be a champion that ends the butcher king’s reign,” and Ksenia’s wicked grin was returned in kind.

Her grin was replaced with a furrowed brow when she entered the dungeon the following evening for the second trial.

Bohdan draped his elbow casually against a stone pedestal in the room. Behind him stood a set of floor-to-ceiling curtains. Ksenia could feel the weight of his gaze before it slid over the remaining eight candidates gathered on one side, awaiting instruction.

Tivan looked particularly smug, waving a bundle of dried lavender herb in Ksenia’s direction, who sent a smirk back. His expression faltered slightly, but returned with a false bravado as his former teammates clapped him on the shoulder.

“Welcome,” called Bohdan. “We began with thirty; now we are eight. Tonight’s challenge is called Survival.”

At the snap of his slender fingers, the curtains flew back, revealing a cadre of medical staff, armed with vialed liquids of varying colors and thick syringes. And farther back, a series of desks and medicine cabinets arranged against each other. Glass beakers, pipettes, mortar and pestles, and a lantern for cooking were neatly stacked on each table’s surface.

Ksenia sucked in a breath as she pieced it together.

“You will be injected with a mystery venom, for which you will need to concoct your own anti-venom.” Bohdan gestured at the medical staff. “Do it successfully, and you live and move on to the next trial. Fail and, well—you will not be assisted in any way.” He shrugged.

Tivan cursed, throwing the herbs to the floor and crushing them underfoot as the men around him grew pale.

Pavel donned a sheen of sweat but was busy reciting a passage from the anti-venom book.

Vuk thumped his chest with his book, undeterred.

Bohdan’s finger tapped softly against the stone pedestal, where a minuscule slip of parchment lay. “And whoever recovers fastest will win the clue for the next trial.”

Her eyes locked on the scrap of paper, no larger than her pinkie finger.

“Champions, step forward.”

Eight doctors approached eight champions, depositing their chosen venoms into their upper arms. Ksenia winced at the prick of metal at her shoulder and could feel a burning cold spread from the point.

She racked her brain over the symptoms as she raced over to a station and grabbed a rubber tourniquet.