Page 76 of Feralheart

“Yeah.”

“Almost too much,” Lyndie said. She studied the room the same way I did a dragon the first time I worked with it, as if she worried it would suddenly turn on her and bite.

Colorful silk banners hung from the ceiling, decorated with black and ruby dragons that magically danced across the fabric.

I made myself unclench my aching jaw.

A priestess stood on a raised platform on the right side of the room, her silver robes catching the light. She raised her hands, and the crowd quieted.

“We gather tonight,” she said, her voice amplified by a spell, “to celebrate the sacred bond between all subjects of the realm, regardless of birth. To honor those who have shown courage and merit. To remember that the Oracle’s wisdom extends to the one who proves themself most worthy.”

Applause rippled through the crowd. Nobles nodded, their faces solemn.

The ache in my spine worsened.

A herald strode over to stand in front of the platform, a scroll in his hands. He bowed to the crowd before unrolling the scroll and reading. “Allow me to present the commons trial survivors.”

“You’ll enter as your name is called,” the thin man said from behind us. “Don’t dawdle and don’t interact with the crowd. Walk over to stand to the left of the herald. Keep your eyes down.”

“Reece.” No surname. Just his first name.

The older man walked into the room, his expression carefully blank.

“Kerrel.”

Kerrel didn’t move. The thin man had to nudge him before he entered and took his place beside Reece.

“Lyndie.”

Her bright smile wavered, and she ducked her head and stepped inside, crossing the room with an uneven gait, as if someone was poking her spine with a pin.

“Eradin.”

I walked into the ballroom and over to stand beside Lyndie, my burned foot screaming with each step. I didn’t hide the limp. Let them see the real cost of their entertainment.

Lyndie grabbed my hand and squeezed it, hers sweaty. She released it just as fast.

“Here, we have prime examples of courage and merit,” the priestess said in a bubbling voice. “Proof that opportunity exists for those brave enough to seize it.”

Applause rang out, louder this time, and tiny lights erupted from the floor, startling guests into awed laughter as they drifted up to float among the caged faelights.

“Please, enjoy yourselves tonight,” the priestess said. She stepped off the platform and exited through a door on the far right.

The elite rushed toward us, tittering. Scowling. Some grinning fanatically. As they reached us, the thin man pressed us forward, Kerrel stumbling before righting himself. Lords and ladies circled us, moving the way buyers did around beasts at a fair, studying our faces, our clothing, and especially the marks on the backs of our hands.

“How quaint that you made it through,” a woman in yellow silk told Lyndie.

“Thank you, my lady,” Lyndie said in a cowed voice, her attention on the wall beyond the lady’s shoulder.

“You must be proud.”

“I am.”

“Such an opportunity for your kind.”

Lyndie’s smile quivered, and she shot a look toward the queen before angling her body slightly away. “Yes, my lady. It truly is.”

A servant pressed goblets into our hands. Water, not wine. They gave us water.