Page 6 of The Heart Trials

I walk over the stone, pausing a moment to rock back on my heel to wiggle it more. It shifts beneath my feet. I turn and walk over it again, as if I’m pacing. Then, I drop to one knee and fiddle with my boot laces, untying them with one hand and running my other hand along the seam of the cobbled stone.

The Mercyenforcer is gone from the lamppost.

He’s crossing the narrow road.

He’s marching toward me.

My heart pounds as I slide my fingers between the bricks, wiggling the trick one loose, while hiding my hand with my skirt. The gap is too narrow. I push harder, teeth clenched against the pain. Finally, the stone lifts. I pry it free, snatch the paper from the hollow, and shove it deep into my boot. Laces tied, I rise.

The Mercyenforcer is almost on top of me when he’s intercepted by a Saltblood who thrashes into his path. The man’s eyes are wild, his limbs jerking. Foam rims at his mouth, and his head snaps side to side. He’s hallucinating violently. The enforcer gets distracted trying to settle him.

I run.

Out of the square, I follow the cobbled path until I hit dirt. The winding road slopes downhill to where the ocean is on the horizon and the Saltblood shacks come into view. When I’m sure I’m not being followed, I stop to catch my breath and pull out the request.

11 Citadel Hill

As many as you can get.

On the back—the royal seal is stamped in dark ink, just above the words:

10,000 gold

3

Idon’t remember my mother’s face.

But I do remember my father’s, covered in tears, kissing her goodbye before her body was rolled off the cliff into the sea. Mercyenforcers hanged him for that.

Any act interpreted as love is punishable by death for the lowborn. I watched, clinging to his leg, small and malnourished, no taller than his waist, as they arrested him.

I haven’t cried since.

But watching Serafina writhe in our blankets, moaning in pain and burning with fever, makes me come close. She’s only gotten worse since the census, vomiting twice and sweating through her bed linens. Food rations came last evening, after the census, but there was no medicine.

I pad around the half dozen others curled up on their mattresses on the floor as silently as I can, pulling open cupboards, checking the sill beneath our tiny window still open from the night before. When a violent gust of wind rips inside, shaking the walls of the orphanage, I ease the window closed, catching the latch before it bangs the siding and disturbs everyone. Sleep is the one thing we can have plenty of.

I keep looking, but every tincture jar I find is empty. There’s never enough of anything. Food is sparse, and Skyborns blame the Grainfolk. Medicine is hard to come by, and they accuse the Saltblood of robbing the trade ships. But Skyborns don’t ever seem hungry or sick.

I find the note requesting my entire supply of contraband, turning it in my hands. Still struggling to believe it’s real. I glare at the seal again. Then the address.

11 Citadel Hill

The Citadel in Skyhaven is where the Benevolent and the rest of the ruling family live. I’d never have to risk my neck again. We’d never need to steal anything. Serafina coughs a raspy, hacking one that sounds like her lungs ripping in two. Medicine. I squeeze the note, reading it again, expecting the words to change.

With this much money we could definitely get a ship.

It all sounds too good to be true. But it’s doubtful the royal seal could be forged. Who else would have that much gold? They could arrest me. Or worse.

I tuck the note away and grab the pamphlet from the table. A picture printed with the mention of the Benevolent’s Tournament of Hearts catches my eye. Two bare hands are outstretched but not quite meeting, separated by light. Love is dangerous. But noble, rare, and sacred when earned, it reads. Beneath that:

One flame will rise.

One pairing will burn bright.

The winning couple will receive:

Lifetime Skyborn citizenship,