Page 80 of On Brutal Thrones

For several seconds, none of us moves.

“Everyone all right?” Thorian asks.

“Fine,” Fenric says.

Talon nods, staring through the trees. “Whatever that was, I think it landed right beside our dinner.”

“My rabbits,” Fenric mutters.

Somehow, that makes me laugh, although my heart is still hammering.

Thorian waits until the ground has stopped trembling before carefully setting me on my feet. Even then, he keeps one hand at my waist as the four of us cautiously head back toward camp.

“That wasn’t a star,” I say.

“No. It wasn’t,” Thorian answers tightly.

We smell it before we see it, smoke and scorched earth thickening the air. Then the trees open onto a huge crater that definitely wasn’t there a few minutes ago. A silver chest sits at the bottom, smoke curling from its surface.

“Definitely not a star,” Thorian says.

There’s still apprehension in his voice. His gaze moves through the surrounding trees instead of settling on the chest, as though he expects this to be the beginning of another trial. After everything the gods have thrown at us, I can’t blame him.

“Then who left us the golden weapons?” I ask.

Thorian frowns. “We don’t know that Soryn left this. For all we know, the golden weapons were her gift, and this came from another god.”

“I can’t imagine another god was trying to help us, so maybe one gift is cursed?” Talon suggests.

“Either way,” Fenric says, looking back at the chest, “I’d like to know what they expect us to do with their gifts.”

There’s genuine awe in his voice, and I feel a little of it too. Soryn bet on us to win the Trials, while Valtor put his favor behind the Vultures. At the time, I hadn’t understood how significant that choice would become. Now, after everything Valtor has done to help Magnus and the others, and everything he’s done to stop us, Soryn’s support feels like more than a wager between divines. It feels like we might actually have someone powerful on our side.

And if this chest truly came from her, she’s still watching.

The thought sends a little thrill through me. Divines don’t send gifts streaking out of the heavens every day. At least, I assume they don’t.

“Can you open it, Talon?”

“Yeah.”

Talon reaches down into the hole, then jerks his fingers back from the hot metal. He shakes out his hand before working quickly at the clasp and pulling away again.

“What is it?” I ask, impatience getting the better of me. “What’s inside?”

Stupidly, I hope it’s food.

Not rabbit. Not nuts or mushrooms or any other food cooked on a stick over a fire. I picture a hot, home-cooked meal served on an actual plate, and my stomach aches with longing.

Talon finally gets the lid open.

We all stare.

“And it’s...” He reaches inside and pulls out a completely ordinary steel sword. Clean, brand new and strong-looking, but just a normal sword. “It’s like our old weapons.”

My excitement dies so quickly it’s almost painful.

Everything inside looks remarkably similar to the weapons we’ve carried throughout the Trials. There are swords for Thorian and Talon, a spear for Fenric, and even a dagger with a familiar hilt that could easily replace mine.