by Kova, Elise
Eira had scoured the journals in the hidden room for something that could help her get past this obstacle. She’d encountered a way to cover her body in ice—a skin-like armor. But she couldn’t perfect it enough in one night to move nimbly. One wrong step or tumble and she’d be over the sides and out of bounds.
Covering the pin on her chest with a hand, Eira coated it in a layer of ice. She felt her magic seeping through the fabric and into her skin. She imagined its roots wrapping around her heart. She couldn’t cover her whole body, but she could do that much.
“Should have done that from the start,” Eira muttered, shifting her weight on the incline. As soon as she began running they would shoot. At least this way, they wouldn’t be able to knock off her pin.
Blunted arrows would still hurt. They may just be the illusion of danger but—wait, an illusion. They couldn’t hit her if they couldn’t see her.
Eira held out one palm parallel with the ground, pushed the other flat against it, and slid her hands apart slowly. A fine mist spread out from her feet as her fingertips parted. The water vapor in the air condensed to her will, the light shifting in it to create whatever illusion she wanted. Her ice evaporating earlier gave her a lot of moisture to work with.
Raising her hands, Eira pushed up the moisture, watching the sunlight shift within it. As she held out her palms like an offering, a map unfurled over the entire arena. Eira’s brow furrowed with focus as she made sure every nook and cranny of Solaris and Meru was detailed on it. The map condensed, leaving her in a twilight haze underneath.
Judging from the shouts and cries of the crowd, her plan worked: no one could see her. An arrow whizzed harmlessly through her illusion. The mist curled around it, creating a momentary shaft of sunlight.
Eira pushed forward. More arrows punctured her veil as she leapt and ducked. One lucky shot found its mark on her thigh and a cry of pain escaped her. Her leg stung, pain searing all the way up her spine and reminding her that her teeth still ached and her hands were bloody from the leap of faith.
Over and under. Over and under. She wasn’t going to let pain stop her. She was more than halfway through.
Emerging up onto the second switchback, Eira released the illusion with a wave. The crowd cheered as they saw her on the other side. Arrows whizzed harmlessly.
“Eira,” Fritz boomed over the noise, “with our view obstructed it is impossible to know if you stepped out of bounds.” He was trying to get her disqualified.
“You have my word, I didn’t!” she shouted back.
The crowd began to jeer and chant for her to continue.
The empress stepped forward with an approving smile. A smile Eira wished she could’ve seen in her own mother. “Given the nature of that obstacle, we’ll assume you didn’t step out of bounds. Continue, Eira, but don’t use an illusion like that again.”
Fritz stayed at the edge of the balcony, watching her with wary eyes. Eira tore her attention from him. Whatever he thought of her attempt, let him think it. No matter what happened, they’d never think she was helpless and desperate for her brother’s protection after today.
The next two obstacles were tied together by water. The sixth obstacle was a moat cradled at the top of a miniature mountain. To get to it, she had to climb up the fifth obstacle—a waterfall—using only the marked handholds.
Really, number five was a break.
Her muscles were exhausted and reminded her of the fact with her every push and pull upward. But the water curved around her hands. It washed over her and Eira relished in its force. She turned her face to the sky and imagined the roaring currents peeling away her skin to reveal something harder, stronger. To reveal someone she’d never been given the opportunity to discover before now.
When Eira cleared the top of the waterfall, she was breathless. But she felt the best she had since starting the trial. She nearly felt reborn, emerging soaked and panting.
White ropes were suspended over the moat. It was clear that they intended her to grasp the first and then swing across. But her arms were too tired. The chances she’d slip off and fall into the water were too great.
Eira took the first rope in her left hand and backed up so it became taut. The crowd cheered her on, expecting her to run and swing to the next. Instead, with a flash of magic, Eira summoned a wicked sharp dagger in her right palm and she pushed it through the rope with one motion, severing a piece.
The crowd hushed.
“Eira, if you wish to forfeit, you must remove your pin,” her uncle was too eager to say.
She ignored him, stepping to the edge of the water. Ice spread out from her feet, forming a bridge as Eira walked. The crowd exploded with chaos.
“Can she do that?”
“Is that allowed?”
“But the rules…”
They volleyed questions to the balcony of royals that Eira was approaching once more as she neared the third and final switchback. Eira stepped back onto the white mark of the platform and released the rope. She looked up to the balcony, waiting.
The emperor and empress watched her, both now wearing the hint of a smile that Eira would dare risk saying looked…delighted? Romulin looked as though he was holding in laughter. Fritz gave her a smoldering glare that would’ve been more befitting of a Firebearer.
Ferro grinned openly. The roguish quirk of his mouth had her heart racing once more. It would give her the strength to continue. He was in her corner, even if no one else was.
None of them said anything, and Eira took their silence to mean permission. She’d followed their rules. They’d intended her to grip the white ropes to get across. They’d never specified the ropes couldn’t be cut. And she’d had a handhold on the white markings the entire time.
Eira faced down the final obstacle—several slacklines suspended across another void. They crossed over and under each other, making no one clear path available. She paced back and forth at the edge, carefully selecting her route. Before setting out, Eira crouched down, unlacing her boots.
“What’s she doing now?” someone above her asked.
Eira couldn’t hear the answer. She wondered if someone responded with, getting better balance. She wanted full movement of her feet on the lines.
One foot after the next, Eira shuffled along the thin line she’d selected, keeping it in the arches of her feet. She carefully placed her foot and then shifted her weight. Her progress was agonizingly slow. But she could use two other lines for balance until about halfway.
A gust of wind burst out of nowhere and Eira let out a startled cry as she doubled over the line she’d been using for support. Her balance tipped and she spun.
The crowd cheered as another gust of wind tried to rip her from the lines. Of course it wasn’t going to be as easy as walking across some rope. The Windwalkers loved playing on their slacklines. This was their doing.
No, this was one man’s doing. She’d bet anything Cullen was behind this. Somehow, his magic buffeting against her felt familiar already. She’d only been forced to watch her brother admire him for years. It made sense she could pick him out of a crowd. Moreover, the empress certainly wasn’t behind this magic and no other Windwalker was strong enough to make these gusts. No one else would toy with her like this.
Eira cursed Cullen under her breath as she struggled to find her grip. She swung like a tunic on the drying line. Pumping her feet, Eira struggled to get them back on the first line. No matter how hard she strained, she couldn’t find any stability.
Her arms were going to give out soon. Sweat dripped off her face. The white lines were stained red from her bloodied hands.
He was going to blast her again. Eira made herself look as vulnerable as possible—she had one last, crazy attempt. The moment he acted, she used Cullen’s winds against him. Expending a monumental amount of her nearly depleted energy, Eira used the wind to help her hoist her feet up. She locked her heels over the line, hanging upside-down.
Hand over hand, she dragged hers
elf along the line. Blood rushed to her head, roaring in her ears as loudly as the wind. But Eira just focused on the platform that grew closer and closer.
She was almost there. One more—
A burst of wind, stronger than all the others, tore her hand from the line. It was as though he’d targeted just her grip. Eira let out a cry. Her legs weren’t strong enough. She was going to fall.
Pressing her feet against each other, line between them, Eira made a clumsy lunge for the platform. A gust pushed her sideways. Her shoulder smacked the wood. Eira grabbed for something—anything. But there was nothing.
With a cry of determination, she raised her fist in the air, as if cursing every last person who had ever told her no, who had ever dared to hold her back, and slammed it toward the platform. Ice spread up from her hand and down in a three-pointed spear. It sank into the wood with a satisfying thud. Grabbing the spear—no, it was a trident—with both hands, Eira pulled herself onto the final platform.
She rolled onto her back with a groan that was drowned out by the jubilant cries of the crowd.
14
Two hands hoisted her up. Eira blinked, the shadowed face cut against the sunlight coming into focus.
“Auntie?” Eira croaked. Why was her voice so tired? Had she been screaming more than she thought? The sudden image of herself shouting and screaming through the course mortified her.
“You were astounding!” Gwen praised as she slipped Eira’s arm over her shoulders. If her aunt had been a sorcerer, Eira had always envisioned she would be a Groundbreaker. She was sturdy, stubborn, and secure. Everything Eira needed right now. “Come on, let’s get you to the recovery room.”
“I want nothing more,” Eira mumbled, shuffling off the platform and back into the palace. It wasn’t until the sunlight left her shoulders that she tried to look back and see what expression Ferro wore. But by then, it was too late. All Eira could catch a glimpse of was her name on the board—she’d passed.
Gwen helped her along the short walk to a stately office that had been repurposed for clerics tending to candidates. A sheet was laid out on a leather sofa where Eira was placed. A kind and sage-looking old man inspected her injuries, expressing relief that they weren’t too severe. He tried to make small talk about how he’d seen her working in the West Clinic and was impressed that she was such a fierce candidate while he mixed her a potion and spread salve over her hands, but Eira wasn’t up for talking.
Her mind was reeling. She’d done it. It had taken every ounce of strength from a well she didn’t even know she could tap into. And she’d been the very last name above the line. But her name was above the line; she’d made it through.
A muffled argument on the other side of the door brought Eira back to the present. She blinked, several times, the room coming back into focus. At some point the cleric must have stepped out. She thought she vaguely remembered him mumbling something about drinking her draught and then resting. A warm mug of fortifying broth was cradled in her hands and Eira took a long sip, leeching the strength from it.
“…no circumstances can she know.” That’s Father, Eira realized.
“You are being ridiculous.” Gwen’s whisper was, as usual, not very quiet. Eira could hear every word through the door. But her father’s soft reply had Eira standing and padding softly over to the room’s entrance, pressing her ear against the wood to hear better.
“This is not your decision,” her mother said.
“Leave it be, Gwen.” Fritz was there, too.
“You’re being stupid.” Gwen grumbled something nasty sounding. “You have a big head for such a snail-sized brain.”
Her mother sighed. “I see you never outgrew your childish taunts.”
“Stop fighting, you two,” Fritz scolded, reverting to the big brother. “No matter what you think of Reona’s decision, it’s hers to make.”
“She’s going to find out,” Gwen insisted.
Find out what? Eira wondered and pressed even closer to the door.
“She will not,” her father said sternly. “Especially once we put all this to an end. You saw her today.”
“You three can’t be serious.” Eira heard stomping she presumed to be Gwen. “You’re going to try and disqualify her after the fact? You’re going to punish her because of something she has no control over?”
“You saw what happened!” Her mother’s voice cracked with sudden volume. Eira jumped. Her heart was beating harder than it ever had in the trial. But she couldn’t step away. A terrible curiosity was holding her to the door. When her mother spoke again, her voice wavered. “Her…her magic. She made the trident.”
“Fritz filled in the gaps between the prongs with ice before anyone could notice,” Gwen countered.
“We think no one noticed,” her father hissed.
“And I won’t always be there.” Fritz sighed.
“What will happen if someone saw?” her mother whispered.
“It isn’t a crime for a Waterrunner to make a trident,” Gwen said.
“You and I both know the implications run deeper than that. Where she comes from…there’s her hair and eyes, too. Her power. You saw it today. People will be watching her, and if she continues on this path someone will discover the truth.” What was her mother talking about? The way she spoke made Eira sound like some stranger.
“Which is why you should tell her so she’ll be ready,” Gwen insisted again.
Eira couldn’t bear listening in any longer. She yanked open the door. “Tell me what?”
Her family stood in the hall, looking like small children caught filching warm cookies from the cooling rack. Fritz took a step back. Gwen folded her arms over her chest and glared at her siblings. Her parents exchanged a glance.
“Well?” Gwen motioned between her parents and Eira.
“Whatever it is, I want to know.” Eira took another sip from her mug, hoping the broth would give her strength and courage in equal measure. Unfortunately, there was no courage potion. All she had was slightly chicken-flavored hot water that smoothed over the aches in her muscles.
“We were debating who would tell you to drop out of the competition.” Her father’s words were a glancing blow. Why would he lie to her?
“That wasn’t what you were discussing, and I know it.” Eira’s nails dug lightly into her mug. “I know it wasn’t because you’ve all had no problem telling me to drop out already. Save for Gwen.” Her aunt gave her a weak smile. “Now, what were you talking about?”
“It’s not something you need to worry about,” her father said.
“Tell me!”
“If none of you will do it then I will.” Gwen turned to face her. She opened her mouth and took a breath.
“Stop, Gwen,” her mother snapped with a voice usually reserved for when Eira broke something. “You and Fritz leave. We’ll handle it from here.”
“But—”
“This is our family’s business.” Her mother cut Gwen’s protest with a glare.
Gwen just rolled her eyes and crossed over to Eira, wrapped her arms around her shoulders, and gripped her tightly. “Eira, we love you very much.”
“And we always will.” Fritz’s expression crumpled.
“I…I never questioned that.” Eira stared down at her mug as her aunt released her.
“Good.” Gwen and Fritz started down the hall, Gwen hesitating as she stood by Reona. “Tell her. She deserves to know. Don’t back away from the truth.”
Her mother just sighed as they retreated into the recovery room, the door closing them off from the world. Her parents exchanged a look before their attention ended up back on Eira. There was a strange and inexplicable sorrow filling them.
“Just, tell me,” Eira demanded again, softer this time. “Whatever it is, I can take it.”
“You don’t know what you’re asking,” her mother said, eyes shining.
“Stop treating me like I’m fragile! If I say I can do something then it means I can.” If the tria
l today didn’t prove that, Eira didn’t know what would.
“Very well,” her father said. She could tell she’d worked his last nerve. But Eira didn’t feel remorseful. Whatever this secret was, it was clearly long overdue to be told. “If you think you’re mature enough to handle the truth, we’ll give it to you.”
“Herron—”
“No, Reona, she clearly thinks she’s ready.” Agitation dripped from her father’s words.
“Eira, we love you very much.” Her mother lightly took the mug from Eira’s grip. Eira didn’t fight as she placed it on the nearby desk. “We always will; all we’ve ever wanted is the very best for you.”
“I know,” Eira said, weaker. The first ugly blossoms of regret were poking their heads up from the bed she’d made by pursuing this question. “I don’t like some of the things you’ve asked of me. I don’t like being coddled by you both and Marcus…and the rest of the family. I don’t like secrets. But none of it ever made me doubt you loved me.”
Her father stepped forward, arms folded. He was the imposing mountain Eira remembered from growing up. Someone that only Marcus ever had a chance of measuring up to.
“We are not your birth parents.”
She blinked, and blinked again, as if the sudden problem with her ears could be fixed by bringing the world into better focus. “I…what?” Her voice was distant, detached, and did not sound like her own. “I don’t think I…”
“Eira, listen.” Her mother stroked her hair thoughtfully. “We have always seen ourselves as your parents—your real parents. We are your family. We love you.”
Eira turned her head to stare up at the woman touching her. Her mother’s—Reona’s eyes were filled with a distant pain that threatened to spill over. Eira blinked several times, trying to see her mother as she once had. But the face at her side was suddenly strange.
She turned back to her father—to Herron. “You’re lying.”