Page 56 of The Heart Trials

“We’re leaving.” They grab him.

“I’m not leaving him,” Finn roars.

A stinger hits Finn in the neck, and the big guy falls to his knees, seizing.

“Wait,” I gasp. “He just needs another minute. Please—”

The Mercyenforcer’s head cocks. “What did you say?” His gaze drops to my hand, and I cover my heart with my palm, stepping back. Skyborn are self-controlled, I recall Syra’s warning. Not overcome with emotion.

“Nothing, I said nothing.” I stare at the ground.

Caelus moves behind me, coming from nowhere. “Get to the transport, Axira,” he says under his breath, calm, but there is rage in his eyes.

Mercyenforcers pull Finn up. He resists, trying to shove them off of him.

“Keep it up, grainrat, and I’ll disqualify you.” The Mercyenforcer threat doesn’t stop Finn’s fighting.

“Axira.” Caelus lingers, waiting for me, risking us being seen together. Trying to protect our plan and protect me.

But there is something final about leaving this beach that pins my feet to the sand.

Ronan’s dead.

A dull, pressing throb aches in the center of my chest. Ronan and I only exchanged a handful of words. But I can still hear the way he said his brother’s name. I can still see the way he looked when he talked about his brother’s smile. His expression when I insisted I didn’t like him. I steady myself, legs trembling beneath me, and it confuses me. I don’t understand this feeling. I shouldn’t care like this. And yet—my body is grieving before my mind can catch up.

Most of the others moving toward the transports glance at Finn with disinterest, well practiced at indifference. Too freshly weaned from Heartfillers. But Mae curls into herself, overcome with emotion like a dam that’s been violently broken. Dorian’s hands find her face like a moth drawn to a flame. I can’t tell if it helps, because she cries harder.

Ronan is in the depths of the sea.

Despite how much he needed to win.

That could have been me if I wasn’t a strong swimmer.

That could be me, next trial.

“Axira,” Caelus calls. “You can’t help anyone if they disqualify you. Come, now.”

When Caelus calls me again, I turn my back on Finn, who is now resisting the five Mercyenforcers trying to wrangle him into submission. The last thing I remember hearing are his ear-splitting sobs.

19

We are taken from the shore straight to the arena.

The once-empty space with only a stage has been transformed into an outdoor garden. Above, the night sky is nearly black, speckled with stars. But only our footsteps can be heard. No one speaks.

Dim lights illuminate the center arena floor, cloaking the area outside the spotlight in shadow. On the edge of the darkened perimeter are tents for sleeping. I squint into the darkness to the audience seats where Skyborns watched the opening address, but I can’t make out anyone in the darkness. I find it hard to believe we are really here alone, free of Mercyenforcers.

I search for a tent to claim, winding through the arena floor, which is sectioned by tall hedges, brimming with robust flowers, creating alcoves and private hideaways. Carved stone benches are scattered in and around greenery. At the center of everything is a pool of hot water, sunken into the earth, rimmed with giant smooth boulders. The surface of the water gently laps against the rocks. Mist rises from it in soft clouds, wrapping the area in a pink haze. The air smells faintly of flowers, with the earthy scent of damp stone.

It’s all supposed to be enticing, I guess, but every dainty detail reeks of the cost to stay here. Ronan is dead. And so many others I never met. This doesn’t end here. More will die. Somehow knowing it and seeing it aren’t the same thing. If people were hungry to win before, now they will be desperate.

When we step inside fully, the gate is locked behind us. A firepit crackling with warmth is swarmed with people. Several of the others dig through their things for the extra Heartfiller the Benevolent gave us at the opening address, shoving it into their chests with moaning exhales, coping with the nightmare of the last several hours.

But I want to feel the chaos inside me. I want to hold on to what’s real.

I’m heading in the direction of the tents to get away from everyone when I notice the eating area full of food—bright fruits, steaming dishes, and delicate pastries. Candles flicker softly, casting shadows that dance across the tables, too surreal to be real. My body is so tired, but when I spot water, I go straight to it. Talia is there nursing a gash larger than the bruise on her face. Lira is rebraiding her tightly coiled ponytail. I fill a cup.

“Get that cut taken care of,” Lira says to Talia, trying to make a selection of cured meats. “Seaweed is what we use in my district.”