Page 54 of Feralheart

And now he was stuck with me.

Did he remember? Somewhere in his battered body, did he recognize the echo of the man who’d ridden him into fire?

Did he still mourn the king?

The saddle came next. I heaved it onto his back and urged him to rise, checking the girth strap twice, tightening it until it sat secure.

A horn echoed across the arena, and the crowd in the stands went quiet.

The trial mark on my hand blazed, the black stripe throbbing along with the horn’s echo. Around me, the other riders touched their own marks. The wiry man’s face paled. Marda’s jaw had set so tight a muscle in her jaw jumped.

We wore the same brand now, the mark that said we’d chosen this. The mark that would burn in our funeral pyre if we failed.

A voice boomed across the arena. “First flight. Two riders.” The official pointed at the sunburned man and the older woman wearing deep blue pants and a lighter blue tunic.

I started to leave Lykor to tell them what to watch for, but one of the handlers grabbed my arm, bringing me to a halt.

“No running,” he hissed. “Remain with your dragon.”

“I just wanted to⁠—”

“Do you want to be disqualified before you’ve entered the first trial?”

I stared at the ground, my hands twitching at my sides. “No.”

“Then remain with your dragon.”

At my nod, he stepped back, but I could feel the weight of his gaze on my spine.

They mounted their dragons, the woman with ease, the man nearly slipping back down the dragon’s side before he could latch onto the saddle horn. That would be me in minutes. Clinging. Falling. Breaking.

I reached into my pocket and touched Tolross’s poem, the paper softening already. I didn’t pull it out. Just stroked the reminder of what I was fighting for. Then I let go and lifted my chin.

The horn sounded again.

The two dragons launched into the air, the beat of their wings blasting sand across the arena. They swept over me, huge and dark. The crowd’s roar couldn’t block one of the dragon’s screams.

The two disappeared into the canyon’s mouth, swallowed by shadows.

The crowd’s roar peaked, then fell to a murmur. They leaned forward, their gazes fixed on the screen.

A hoarse cry echoed inside the canyon.

I stroked Lykor’s neck. Both of us were broken things, trying not to die today.

And the first commons trial had begun.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

ERADIN

Screaming began not long after the pair had flown inside the canyon’s mouth.

It started human, terror in a familiar register, then climbed higher, shredding into something that didn’t sound like it came from a throat anymore.

The crowd watched on their viewing screen that was thankfully pointed away from us. Or should I be thankful? If I could watch, I’d know what was coming, assuming the magic didn’t change the course for each entrant.

Then the shrieks stopped. The silence after was worse.