Page 97 of The Heart Trials

The doors creak open just then, and the Benevolent keeps talking over it.

But I stop listening as Caelus steps inside.

A ripple of excitement moves down the table among the Skyborn guests. But as he emerges from the corner of the throne room, the room swarms with whispers. A few rise from their seats as Caelus strides toward the table with a limping gait, each step uneven as if it’s tight with pain.

I grip my seat.

One of his eyes is swollen nearly shut, a deep bruise spreading across his cheek like a shadow that won’t lift. Dried blood traces the corner of his mouth and a jagged cut splits his brow. He’s dressed in fine clothes, draped in Skyborn purple and silver. He walks toward the table, a clear signal that he is still one of us.

“What’s wrong with the prince?” someone holding a tray of plates shouts.

Caelus walks right past the contestants to his father. The Benevolent pats his shoulder affectionately. “Are you alright, son?”

“I am. Thank you for your concern,” he says, waving to the guests. “And I’m sorry I am late. I am moving slower today. As you all know, I am competing in the tournament to find a bride. And well, I was a bit overzealous in the second trial and hurt myself.” He squares his shoulders, but I don’t miss the tremor in his limbs.

I stand. He’s lying.

Caelus’s ice-blue eyes find mine, unblinking. He gives the faintest shake of his head. Frustration flares hot in my chest. I can feel his will pressing against mine, silently pleading. Sit down. Stay quiet. He wants me to play along, in whatever new game the Benevolent has just started.

I force myself to sit, fists clenched.

“I thank you for your concern, but Medic Buntin will get me all patched up, don’t worry,” Caelus says, limping off the stage to raucous applause, and approaches the other seat beside me. I pull out the chair, and he eases into it with a wince.

“Where was I?” The Benevolent strokes his chin.

“Are you alright?” I whisper.

“I will be fine, I promise you.”

“He did this to you?”

“He ordered it done.”

I tense. He runs his hand along the back of mine underneath the table, and for a moment I let myself savor the touch. Then I pull my hand away.

“I have so much to tell you,” I say into my shoulder, trying to keep my voice as low as I can as the Benevolent drones on about how harrowing the Trial of Loyalty was last tournament, ten years ago. And how brave his son is and how proud he is of him. “How do you pretend so well?” I ask.

“What other choice is there?” he murmurs.

“I was so worried he was going to pull you out of the competition completely.”

“He’s too smart to do that. He wants me to be killed in the tournament to keep his hands clean.”

“He fears his people.”

“He fears their power.”

“Because they love you.”

Caelus’s eyes slide past me, toward a crack in the stone, toward anywhere else. What would happen if Caelus became Ethyria’s leader? When we talk about getting rid of his father, he never talks about taking his place. But we have enough to contend with at the moment. I am not going to pile questions about ruling Ethyria on top of it.

“He asked how matching is going,” he finally says.

“And—”

“I told him I haven’t made any decisions. But he said if I don’t pick a match soon, he will provide one for me. He will not eliminate me. I was beginning to think getting disqualified could be a strategy, but…” His voice trails off, and after a beat he says, “He is going to make sure I make it to the third trial.”

“Why? What’s happening in the third trial?”