Page 137 of The Heart Trials

The Benevolent’s attention lingers on his son beside me. There’s something venomous there now, boiling just beneath the surface. He doesn’t want Caelus to win. He doesn’t want his son to touch the power of a true-love match. I scan the exits, wondering how Rhythe will execute the Benevolent, if that’s indeed his plan. Or if he’s lost the courage after Kade’s betrayal. I watch his hands for a place he might have hidden a blade.

Rhythe steps forward to climb the steps alone with smooth grace and a painted smile.

Ivy hasn’t moved from the line of contestants.

Rhythe turns back, reaching for her hand.

She hesitates.

Her fingers twitch at her sides. Her eyes flick to the others—then to the chalices—and my heart is not beating. They share a glance. Rhythe holds his hand steady, as if he’s already certain of her answer. The silence sits for a heartbeat. Then, two, long enough to hope. Long enough to doubt.

Then slowly, she takes it.

Together they make their way to the chalices, each taking a cup. The crowd holds its breath. He whispers something only she can hear, and her spine stiffens. Rhythe drains his cup. And waits.

But—she stops.

And sets the elixir aside.

“I won’t,” she says, loud enough to echo.

Gasps ripple across the arena.

Rhythe’s smile cracks. “Ivy,” he hisses.

“You don’t love me,” she says, louder now. “You love the idea of me. You always did.”

“You don’t know what you’re doing,” he says through clenched teeth.

Tears glisten in her eyes, but her voice is clear. “I know exactly what I’m doing. I’ve seen what they have.” She points at Caelus and me. “And you destroyed it! Just like you destroyed the hope in me that I could ever have something like it. I’m done pretending.”

Rhythe turns to the sky as if a downpour could rain on us and change her mind. I don’t like this.

His gaze cuts across the arena.

At me.

But as soon as our eyes lock, the moment is gone.

The Benevolent’s patience runs dry. “Bring them forward! Show me the truth.”

The guards seize Ivy and Rhythe, dragging them to the chalices. Ivy protests louder than I’ve ever heard her speak. Rhythe fights back, but he’s outnumbered. The guards pin them against the stone basin of the chalices—one gripping Ivy’s shoulders, the other wrenching Rhythe’s arm behind his back.

They will drink at the same time.

Ivy twists her head, trying to avoid it, but a hand clamps over her jaw and forces her mouth open. The liquid glimmers as it’s poured between her lips. She gags immediately, coughing and sputtering, her body convulsing as the elixir is forced down their throats.

My hands are slick with sweat, wrapped tightly in Caelus’s. I can’t stop imagining what it will feel like—those hands on us, dragging us forward, prying our mouths open. I taste metal just thinking about it.

The air thickens around me, too hot, too sharp.

Caelus doesn’t speak. He just holds my hand tighter, jaw locked, eyes forward. I don’t know if he’s afraid or if he knows something I don’t. Either way, I can feel it now—something in the plan is unraveling.

Ivy chokes on the elixir. Rhythe swears through his teeth.

And then—

Nothing.