Page 36 of The Heart Trials

“They’re both really strong,” she says. “They’ll do well in the trials, I bet. Their conversation skills, not so much.” She gestures at Ronan, the clean-shaven fellow with short hair. “He has a baby brother who he takes care of. Their parents are dead. If he wins, the baby would get to come to Skyhaven too, since he’s the caretaker. Ronan is doing all this for him.”

So many dead parents. So many deaths from the Redwake. I’m lucky the stain of that tragedy didn’t touch my family. They stayed out of it. And even though they died earlier than feels fair—my mother from sickness, my father for kissing her goodbye—my father died on his own terms. His life wasn’t taken from him. He gave it. I don’t know if that’s the same as love, but whatever it is, I admire it.

I wish I’d told him that.

My mother comes to mind, and my insides sink, low like a stone in a river.

“Finn doesn’t want to be here,” she goes on. “His parents made him come. They both live in my village.”

Finn turns toward us, his locks pulling over his shoulders. He meets my eyes, and his chest is glowing. Their conversation stops as Ronan smirks, looking between Mae and me. Finn’s jaw slackens, his mouth falling open. He’s looking at me as if I’m an upside-down map.

“Hi,” he says. This is my chance.

“Uh, fingerprints?” I shove my journal at them. “Want to give me yours? I’ll give you mine.”

They share a glance. Ronan elbows Finn with a quirked brow. “You were just saying that you thought she was—”

“Shut your grain-hole, Ronan. Shut it this damn minute.”

Finn smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. I blink at the awkwardness. Was he admiring me? I think that’s what Ronan was getting at. When Finn offers me his thumb, I don’t hesitate, pressing it onto the square on the paper. I return the favor. The conversation ends stiffly, with Finn walking away unable to look me in the eye.

“Sorry, sometimes he won’t crack a smile if the sun begged him to,” Ronan says before sauntering along after him.

“Look at you! You already have interest. Are they your type? You never said.” Mae nudges me as I fill another plate, not shy this time with stacks of fruit and meats plus crunchy bread things that melt in my fingers. I don’t respond to her, sitting down at the table with my cheeks burning in shame at the portions on my plate. But my father would say I need my energy to win.

As I chew, Mae and I scan for more possibilities. There are a few others sitting together, joking like they know each other well. A brunet with unkempt hair and jewelry all over his face rises from the table to refill his plate. I’m not sure what to say to Mae’s question. Do I say I’m looking for someone short, tall, funny? Do I pretend those things matter to me? Maybe a little truth makes pretending easier. If I were honestly trying to win this—what would matter to me?

Caelus comes to mind, and goose bumps race up my arms.

“Uh, I don’t have a type. Do you know anything about anyone else?” I ask her, hoping it’s a shortcut to fingerprints and someone I can partner with. I shouldn’t overthink. I just need to pick someone.

Just as I ask, a Stonebound passes in front of us. Despite being scrubbed down like the rest of us, his sun-warmed olive skin somehow still looks covered in dirt. Could I pick him? He sits right beside Mae. Very close. Too close for comfort. She scoots toward me. I scoot to give her more room. He doesn’t seem to notice. How does the saying go? Never trust a Stonebound unless you can see inside all their clefts. But he doesn’t look secretive or scheming. He doesn’t fidget or blink too much; he just watches like the hall is background noise, not even looking our way, oblivious, with a detachment from all this that I envy. Then I notice he’s taking things off his plate and slipping them into his pocket.

“Should we ask him for a fingerprint?” I whisper. I don’t care how strange he is. If I had extra food in the district, I’d stuff it in my pocket too. That said, I can’t imagine him scaling the side of any mountain or hunting anything. He definitely doesn’t seem physically strong enough to pass the trials if they are as difficult as Caelus implied.

“Stick Boy?” Mae asks. “Dunno his name. But I overheard that he entered as a dare. He looks like he sleeps in the woods and rolled out of bed and showed up here.”

I can’t believe I have to pretend to fall in love with one of these people.

My head hurts.

An image of Stick Boy, the Stonebound, trying to kiss me comes to mind, and the muffin in my stomach tries to come up. “We won’t actually have to kiss someone, will we?” I ask.

“Gosh, I hope so!”

Mae points out a few others, a tremor shivering through her fingers, telling me what she knows about them from her district or what she overheard last night.

“You’re very observant,” I say when she’s finished.

She shrugs. “No one really pays attention to me because I talk so much. They think I’m in my own world and not really listening. They’re wrong.”

A milk-pale girl with freckles and white blond hair cascading over boney shoulders passes in front of us now, looking for a seat. A nasty bruise blooms on her cheek. Her big gray eyes are so pale they look silver. She settles at a table with a plate of food but leaves it untouched, staring across the room at nothing. Mae leans over to me, crossing the sea of distance between us. Her nearness startles me, and I stiffen.

“That’s Talia,” Mae says quietly. “I assumed she was Saltblood, but I heard her talking about Frostledge in the Stonebound district. See that bruise? Her mother told her she couldn’t come. They fought about it. But she came anyway.”

Talia’s shoulders are squared, and her eyes are a fire full of anger and something else. My stomach tightens. “She intends to win,” I say.

“Don’t we all?” Mae’s brows kiss, then she grins, craters forming in her cheeks. She’s right. Everyone here is my competition. All of them could be in the way of me saving Serafina. Including Mae. Unless…