Page 71 of The Heart Trials

Him. Dorian.

I haven’t confirmed I’m in his alliance, but I haven’t denied it either. If he’s planning to take Dorian down, I need to keep him thinking I’m still persuadable.

“I saw his itinerary,” Rhythe continues. “He has a tour of the Balcony of Vows, then a late-morning activity at a tea shop—the Porcelain Parlor—a picnic at Evergild Gardens, and last the opera at the Painted Kiss. Our best time to target him is at the tea shop. The others are too in the open.”

“Target him how?” I ask, the words catching on the edge of my breath.

“Your surprise is surprising,” Rhythe muses. “Especially given what I’ve heard about your father.”

I blink. “You don’t know anything about my father.”

Rhythe’s jaw juts out, then back in. “So you have a problem with our plans?”

“No.” Careful, Axira. “I just…Don’t you think that’ll be suspicious? It could look like you’re trying to fix the competition.”

His gaze narrows. “Is that any different than Kade using a Scent to mess with our emotions?”

I school my expression, but my hands betray me, curling tighter at my sides.

“You’re not just here to survive, are you?” he asks. He’s far too close to the truth.

I look away toward the doors, which are still open, full of guards waiting for the rest of the contestants to arrive downstairs. “Does it matter why I’m here?”

“You’re Saltblood.” Something in his tone shifts—firmer, almost matter-of-fact. He squares his shoulders, and a flicker of heat flares in his eyes, pride that borders on defiance. “Of course it matters.”

My pulse quickens, warmth stirring in my chest. We come from the same sharp-edged place, where the tide teaches you to fight or be swallowed. I may not know Rhythe well at all, but I am beginning to realize I do understand him. Stealing from the Benevolent, carving his own path through this tournament. Perhaps thieves have their admirable qualities. He’s Saltblood through and through. Like I am. He knows what it means to survive the sea, to belong to something bigger than himself, a community. We carry salt in our blood, and that’s never washed off easily.

But as he watches me from the shadows, I remember salt water can also sting and pull you under. The current isn’t always on your side.

“Dorian is Saltblood too,” I say. “Doesn’t that matter?”

He lets out a short breath that’s not quite a laugh, his sharp jaw working. “It does. But he’s the biggest threat. He has to go.”

I am not a threat to him winning, so I can stay, he doesn’t have to say.

“Are you in?” he asks. “No one is going to hand us the life we want, Axira. Isn’t it time we take something for ourselves?”

I don’t want the Benevolent’s riches. I don’t want to rob him. I want off his island. But I see something kindred in Rhythe, for the first time, something lethal and untethered that could be helpful for surviving.

“I’m in under one condition—Mae should stay out of this.”

He presses his tongue to the inside of his cheek, gaze flicking to the doors behind me, then back. A beat passes. Then, he nods. “Deal. Be at the tea shop, just outside, before midday.”

“Fine.”

He steps closer. There’s only a breath of space between us, thick with warning. I hold his gaze longer than necessary.

“You’re not fooling anyone with your fake refusal of the date with the prince,” he says. “I told you to leave him—”

“I was ranked last,” I snap. “Would you prefer I went home?” I don’t know if it’s true, but it’s the only reason why Caelus would choose me in front of everyone.

“So he’s helping you,” Rhythe says.

“I don’t have to defend myself to you. I don’t have to defend myself to anyone.”

He quirks a brow, then steps back into the shadows. More footsteps echo from the stairs, and I can’t tear my eyes off him as he slinks away. Laughter drifting down toward us grabs my attention. It’s unsettling how quickly most have moved on from the horror from last night.

I take a slow breath, straighten my spine, and wait for Caelus.