Page 18 of Feralheart

Lady Chambers pulled a fresh sheet of paper from the pile lying on the smooth surface in front of her and flicked her finger toward her pen. “We’ll need to manage public expectations. Entrant processing will require additional personnel. I suggest security for the initial commons trial—assuming any dare enter—and healers for the aftermath of the Scorching itself.”

Aftermath. Was that what we were calling it now?

My jaw tightened. I rolled my shoulders once, trying to shake off the weight that had settled there since the meeting started.

Lord Holmen’s gaze tracked the movement before sliding away.

The lady took some quick notes before looking up at us all. “We need to ensure the winner transition arrangements are made well in advance. Relocation protocols, if needed. Documentation. The standard procedures.”

“See to it yourself,” Mother said.

They spoke some more, their words sliding over me. Administrative noise. Twenty-three years ago, I’d heard the servants whispering about the upcoming Scorching in the castle halls. Then my father was dead, and I’d stopped paying attention to anything.

“Orla, the commons rider who made it to the third trial last time, caused significant complications,” Lady Chambers said. “We should anticipate similar determination this year.”

Complications. That was one word for it.

My mother scowled but didn’t comment.

I’d read Orla’s file. She’d lost three fingers in the first trial and kept flying. She’d made it further than twelve elite riders who’d had significant training and rode bonded dragons. And she’d left a daughter behind.

The commons woman from the bonding ceremony had that same quality, a look that said she’d already decided what she was willing to lose in order to win.

Lord Andra’s fingers drummed on the table. “What parameters exist around the Oracle’s wish-granting process?”

“The Oracle is sacred,” Lord Holmen said, his voice sharp. “She does not follow protocol. She isn’t a tool for our convenience.”

Andra’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “I only meant we should anticipate… anything. As Lady Chambers noted, the last commons rider made it quite far. That caused a disruption.”

What he meant was that a commons making it that far had shown that anyone had a chance of winning. Why wouldn’t we want to send that message every time?

If Eradin, as I’d discovered she was called, entered the Scorching, would she last longer than we wanted her to?

“As always, the trials will take care of that for us,” Lady Chambers said, staring down her nose at the younger man. “We don’t need to assure ourselves of anything.”

“How is the wish dispensed?” Lord Andra asked.

“Do you truly care about the mechanics?” I asked. “The Oracle grants what she grants. That’s how it always had been and how it always will be.”

His face flushed, and he directed his attention to the table.

I felt my mother’s attention sharpen on me.

“Commons have as much right to the Oracle wish as we do,” I said. “The trials are sacred. Let them be fair. If you’re so certain they’ll fail, why are you afraid?”

Mother sucked in a breath and gave me a look that shouted, Don’t.

I met her gaze without faltering.

“The Scorching will proceed as it always has, for the good of the realm,” she said while everyone else stared at me. “I will not speculate about commons when related to this illustrious event.”

Lord Holmen cleared his throat. “The realm is served by your wisdom, Your Majesty.”

“I’ll see to the preparations we’ve discussed immediately,” Lady Chambers said.

Lord Andra nodded. “I look forward to watching the event.”

The hierarchy showed itself in who spoke when, each of them slotting into their place.