Page 110 of The Heart Trials

Clusters of highborns stand near the road in hushed knots, watching the transports pass. A few hold candles. One woman clutches a torn purple cloak with the Skyborn symbol stitched into the fabric. Her lips move in a chant we can’t hear.

And then we see barricades. Not official ones, but piles of debris—broken crates, firewood, overturned carts—stacked along a narrow service lane. A young man throws a stone at one of the pylons. Another sets fire to one. I gasp. Deep fear presses like pins behind my eyes. What’s happened? What will happen because of this?

“What is it?” Dorian shifts closer, then pulls back from the window with a pensive glare.

Mae takes a look after him, and her breath catches. “I don’t understand.” She’s pale.

“They want me pulled from the tournament.” Caelus scrubs a palm down his face. “This is not good.”

The Skyborn were so upset when they saw he’d gotten injured. Now this?

“I don’t understand,” Mae says again.

“His father had him beat to a pulp and made him lie about how he got hurt to everyone,” I say.

“Axira.” Caelus’s glance cuts.

“It’s time they know the truth.” I turn to Mae and Dorian. “His father is a monster, whether you can see or not.”

Mae stares at me as if the words I’ve just said are in a language she’s never heard before.

“So let them be mad,” I continue. “Let them rage. Let them burn this whole place down!”

Dorian doesn’t argue. But I’m not sure if he agrees with me. His silence is grim.

The transport stops suddenly, lurching us forward in our seats. Through the viewport, I catch a glimpse of a checkpoint ahead—blurry figures moving in the mist, voices raised, a single flare of fire. A hand reaches inside, dragging down the shield over our window, closing us off from the truth of what’s happening out there. The transport rumbles onward in silence, leaving Skyhaven behind as it plunges toward the Stonebound district—where the streets run narrower and the cliffs are steeper.

“Is this true, my prince?” Mae asks Caelus, suddenly casting her eyes down like a lowborn. “The people do love you. I saw that myself. There must be a reason…I guess your father could resent that, perhaps? But I’ve never seen him do anything unkind. Confusing at times, yes. But he has his ways of doing things because he understands happiness in a way we can’t. The crops. The fields. Rations. It doesn’t always feel right. But we have to trust that it is. The crops we burned were full of poison. He was protecting us.” She nudges Dorian. “Right?”

“Right,” Dorian says stiffly. “We have to trust our leader, wherever he leads us.”

“No,” I snap. “No, that’s wrong. He poisoned the crops. That was perfectly good food.”

She cracks a smile as if she’s waiting on me to say I’m kidding, but when I’m silent it quickly fades.

I grip her arm gently over her sleeve. “Mae, you believe the Benevolent gives us Heartfillers out of kindness—because you’ve been raised on the lie that he wants us happy. But that’s the story he fed you to keep you starving for the love he forbids. The Heartfillers, the pamphlets. It’s all manipulating you to follow a person who couldn’t care less if you live or die. That feeling—that some of his orders don’t feel right—is because they aren’t right! Being hooked on Heartfillers to feel good isn’t freedom, Mae. It’s a prison.”

She blinks long, swallows hard, and then turns to Dorian. “It’s too much.” Her voice cracks. “This is just all too much.” He strokes her hand.

“Caelus,” I say, “you have to tell them the truth. They’ll believe you.”

“He had me beaten. It’s true.” Caelus’s chin rises, but I don’t miss his flinch. “Wasn’t the first time.”

Mae sucks in a breath.

“Why do the people love you so much, Caelus?” she asks. “Is it because they know he hurts you?”

“No one knows that,” he says.

“Then why?” I ask, curious too.

He shrugs. “I don’t know.”

“When did you first notice the people treating you differently?” I ask. “Shouting your name and cheering louder for you than him?”

He settles back uncomfortably. “This feels like an interrogation.”

“It’s just a question.”