Page 28 of The Mortal Trials

The water stops when I move out from beneath the fixture. I dry off as best I can while leaning on my crutch and tug on the clothes I brought from home; underwear and a shirt I stole from Cillian a long time ago that’s long enough to be a dress on me.

My leg’s sheath is sandy and sweaty, so I rinse it in the basin and carry it into the bedroom to dry in a sunny patch on the table. Some of the windows in the oikos are tall. They let in the sea breeze when I open them.

I should probably stay awake and worry over what’s coming next, but I don’t have the energy. I want to rest for just a little while. Besides, trouble knows where to find me if it’s impatient.

The bed is pillowy. Soft and comfortable. The instant my head hits the pillow, I fall into a shallow, terrifying sleep.

In my dream, there’s an extravagant ball being held under the stars. Cut flowers adorn every surface and music pours from the heavens. I waltz with monsters.

And become one, too.

I wake covered with a soft linen blanket exactly like the one pinned to my wall. My hair is almost dry. It’s late afternoon, by the rich rays of sun beaming in from the west-facing windows.

Who came in here while I slept?

The folding chair I’d left in the washroom sits beside my bed. On it, there is a tray of fruit and fresh cheese, and a full carafe of cool water sits on the floor. The remnants of my splintered table are gone.

How did I sleep through someone doing so much, so close to me?

It’s unsettling.

Niall knocks on the doorframe. “Sorry to wake you. I wanted to make sure you knew there’s a ball at sundown.”

He must have come and helped me. In a way, I’m glad it was him and in another, I wish it hadn’t been.

I nod. “Morrigan said there was one tonight. She didn’t say what time, though.”

“She came here?” He steps inside. Just one tentative step.

“No, I got a letter. You didn’t?” I ask, sitting up.

He shakes his head.

Something was off. “You didn’t notice Ceann Ársa?”

I thought Niall was right outside, snooping on me and August when the big bird flew in.

His brows lift. “He was here? How’s his wing?”

I clear my throat. “It’s fine. Morrigan healed him.”

He furrows his brow. “Surely, I would have seen him if he came here. Are you sure you weren’t dreaming?”

True, he would have seen the ancient crow, unless Morrigan didn’t want him to.

I scrub a hand down my tired face. “Well, her letter didn’t say much. She mentioned the ball and told me to find a willing champion.”

His lips part in surprise. “I thought she would champion us both.”

There’s no reason to believe she won’t champion him. She didn’t instruct him to find another. He keeps staring at the parchment on the floor. His fingers flex, but he balls them into fists.

“You can read it.”

He wastes no time. When he’s finished, he lays it on the chair beside the food. I don’t miss the way the paper trembles in his hands before he releases it. “Why did she send us to the trials if she didn’t plan to guide us through them?”

“She’s given you no reason to think she won’t champion you.”

He swallows thickly. “That wouldn’t be fair to you.”