Page 119 of The Heart Trials

Then a hiss. Sharp and close.

A blade thuds into a tree beside my head. I flinch back, heart slamming against my ribs. Another flash of metal, closer this time. And from the dark, familiar figures emerge—Rhythe, Kade.

We’re under attack.

39

Kade crashes through the trees like a boulder in human form, all muscle and fury, a curved sword in his hands. The moon glints off the blade as he swings it in a brutal arc, yelling and charging toward us. There’s no sign of Callie. Then, I remember the pop and scream when the trial first started. She must be dead.

“Move!” Caelus shouts, lunging toward Kade and Rhythe.

Steel rings out as Caelus’s blade blocks the sword, shattering the night’s silence. Kade doesn’t fight like a soldier. He fights like something caged too long and just set free. Wide, messy swings meant to break whoosh past Caelus with narrow misses. I whip out the blade against my ribs and dive for Ivy, dragging her backward as Kade’s weapon whistles through the air toward her. She cries out, breath catching in her throat.

“Grab whatever you can,” I scream at her.

Caelus charges at him, and Kade rips out another weapon, an axe, one I swear I saw in Jace’s hands.

Jace. Talia. Where are they?

And then—another blur.

I whirl around—Rhythe.

He moves fast and silent. His spiked weapon cleaves through the night toward me, his eyes darting past me to Caelus, who is now behind me fighting Kade. I parry just in time, lunging inside the arc of his swing, knocking his forearm off-line with the flat of my blade. His eyes are calm. Too calm for the chaos he’s unleashing.

“Out of my way,” he says, stepping around me. He wants to get to Caelus, but I block his way. “This isn’t how it was supposed to go,” he spits, lunging.

He’s stronger than I expected. I pivot on instinct, fighting my body’s deep fatigue, twisting under his arm and slashing upward. He jumps back, graceful, his spiked weapon spinning before settling in front of him again. I slash at him, feinting left, then twisting right. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Caelus lose ground. Kade white-knuckles his axe. They’ve moved farther from the trees, closer to the mountain’s edge. I can’t breathe. Kade’s axe is slow but heavy, and each strike forces Caelus to dodge or deflect. His prince training shows—clean footwork, precise cuts—but the axe is battering through his defenses like a hammer on a chisel.

Then, he trips.

And hits the ground.

A bloodcurdling shriek rips from my throat, my body moving in his direction, paces ahead of my mind. Then Rhythe slams into me, knocking me aside. My blade flies from my fingers, lost in the brush.

I hit a tree, and it feels like a stone wall. Rhythe runs past me. Ivy stares frozen, watching this carnage unfold. “Do something!” I scream at her, trying to regain feeling in my arm and searching for the backup blade against my ankle. But all I feel is skin inside my boot. My heart rattles, my throat drying. Then, I remember the driftwood-handled blade my father made me. The one Caelus got back for me. My fingers lift, brushing through my hair until they find its small, familiar shape tucked deep in my bun. I drag myself upright.

Kade heaves his axe high, preparing to bring it down on Caelus, while Rhythe closes in from behind. But Caelus surges up, rolling to his feet and pivoting around a nearby tree trunk. As the axe swings down, he ducks low—just in time. The blade bites into the trunk with a solid thunk. Kade yanks the handle, but it’s wedged tight. Seizing the moment, Caelus drives his shoulder hard into Kade’s gut, slamming him back.

They both stagger. Caelus lashes out with a quick slash. Kade catches his arm mid-swing with a snarl. As Rhythe closes in, Caelus twists free just enough to hurl his blade whirring through the air. It hits Rhythe, sinking into his shoulder. He stumbles back, clutching the wound.

I force my aching body into motion and dash toward the tent. Ivy screams something, but it’s muffled.

I spin.

She’s gone.

No—she’s moving. A figure in the shadows of the trees has her, dragging her backward, hand clamped over her mouth. Ivy’s legs kick uselessly, heels skimming the ground. She claws backward, pulling on whatever she can on her attacker. I spot unmistakable blond hair.

“Talia?” I gasp.

Her face is ghost pale, grief carved deep in every line. Her eyes flick up and lock with mine, and for a moment her mask slips. I see it all: The rage. The grief.

Jace.

Jace isn’t here.

“Talia!” I break into a sprint with my climbing pack at my side. She’s crying. She doesn’t even wipe the tears away. “Where’s Jace?”