“Drake of the Whirling Court,” Miss Koran, a puck I’ve known since childhood calls out. I hold back a grimace. Drake is easily my biggest competition for the crown, and therefore, the one I’m most concerned will win the trials. He’s not the strongest physically, but he’s smart, and he knows politics better than anyone. Drake smiles big and bright as he tosses his hands into the air, thrusting a small cyclone into the crowd. It whips and pulls at the spectators’ clothing and hair, even pulling up a female’s skirt.
Pig, I think.
“Kari of the Crystal Court.” Drake’s closest ally. She looks up to the ceiling as deep purple crystals grow down like stalactites, then all at once they shatter and fall to the ground sending up a puff of harmless glittering smoke. Crystals have many uses, but I know from experience that Kari also has several types of earth powers. She’s a formidable opponent.
“Crevin of the Crackling Court.” The oldest fae in the competition, a contender for the crown himself, although I’ve heard rumors of an alliance with Drake. I suppose we’ll have to see about that. His white hair flies back as he sends sparks sizzling up and around the room, twisting through the lights and then finally raining down on the spectators. They ooh and ahh and hold up their faces to feel the heat—unafraid of being burned. The sparks fade into nothing before they touch anyone, and the crowd murmurs their approval.
“Brielle of the Flicker Court.” Brielle holds out her hand and flames erupt into a moving sculpture of a couple dancing. The male flickers and glows with a white flame that I know represents my bother. Tears well in Brielle’s eyes as they dance. Red flame and white.
Then a black flame creeps over the male, and he disintegrates leaving only the red-flame woman standing still.
I blink and swallow, and my eyes drift to the next in line. My brother’s murderer stares at the flame, and though the rest of her face is smooth and calm, her pupils are dilated. Does she realize what Brielle’s performance means?
“Caelynn of the Shadow Court,” Miss Koran’s voice betrays her pain at having to say the betrayer’s name. Speaking a fae’s name is a sign of respect. It’s something I will never do for the shade witch.
The crowd boos and roars at her.
The female stands there, looking straight ahead. Even as her court attempts a cheer, they’re drowned out by the rest of the room’s jeers. Everyone hates her. Everyone but her minuscule and worthless court.
She doesn’t move. She doesn’t blink. No power comes from her in anyway.
I narrow my eyes, watching. A deviled-egg flies from somewhere in the crowd and hits her shoulder, splattering bits of yolk. She doesn’t even blink. She doesn’t move to wipe it off.
I watch her closely. What is she doing? What point is she trying to make?
Does she have no power to show? She used none to defend herself today in the woods, and she shows nothing in the showcase. She must have had some magic if she’d been able to kill my brother.
She’s been in the human world for over a decade. Perhaps her magic is rusty from disuse? Perhaps she emptied her well so thoroughly to kill him she wasn’t able to regrow it—maybe she doesn’t have anything left.
That’s a comforting thought.
We all wait, wondering if she’s doing something we haven’t noticed yet—shadows twisting or dancing. Lights dimming. But no. There’s nothing.
She has nothing. My lips curls into a sneer of a smile.
Brielle glances to me, her expression just as pleased. She will be an easy opponent.
The showcase finishes with the last few courts—the weakest ones at the end. The dwarf pretending to be a fae from the Crumbling Court spins rocks around his head without moving. The Beastly Court fae grows wings, nearly knocking the dwarf next to him over. Brielle snickers.
And lastly a petite dark-skinned girl from the Webbed Court—weakest of them all. She opens her mouth in a silent scream as a massive spider crawls out from under her tongue and onto her cheek. The crowd gasps, and even I shiver.
Creepy, but worthless.
“We welcome you all, champions!” Miss Koran announces proudly. Well, most of you. “We will eat in your honor, and in one hour, our first trial will begin.”
THE CHAMPIONS ARE SERVED first. Plates full of several types of meat, vegetables, and a basket of rolls for each of us. I take a few bites of poultry and one roll from the full plates they serve us. I could use the energy for the challenge, but I don’t want to overdo it.
The rest of the champions shove their faces with the luxurious food. Except the betrayer—she doesn’t touch the food at all.
Now that’s an interesting strategy. Perhaps her stomach is too uneasy to eat. I’d certainly prefer to be weak than to throw up in front of everyone.
Acidic warmth fills my chest at her discomfort.
Perhaps I’ll enjoy this challenge more than I’d anticipated. I am eager for her downfall.
The champions are led from the banquet hall and into the training center. My friends Brielle, Rook, and even occasionally Nante have worked in here together for weeks, preparing for the trials. I’m quite familiar with the place. I spend my minutes before the first challenge stretching and bouncing on my toes to get the blood moving.
“Can you believe that?” Brielle says. “First she laughs at Nante’s name—wench.” She rolls her eyes as she pulls off her beaded belt and sheer skirt, leaving a quite flattering leather jumpsuit. “Then she does nothing. Nothing. Like what even was that?”
I shrug. “I’m hoping it means she has no power to speak of.”
“None?” Crevin says. “She has to have something.”
“I’m certain she’s out of practice, living as a human child for years.”
He nods. “Maybe she just didn’t want to embarrass herself.”
I turn to find her among the crowd, still keeping close to the dwarf—one of the only fae in the competition not ready and willing to take her head off at the first opportunity. But she doesn’t look at us at all.
“Lord Reveln!” a small voice calls. I look down to a young puck, his horns barely curled at all. “Which sword do you want?” Charlie asks me with a big grin.
He’s a squire apprentice and a big fan of mine. “You should know that answer already,” I say with a wink. He smiles big and runs off to grab my favored sword and belt. He skitters back, and I strap it onto my back in one smooth motion.
“How do you know which to choose?” Brielle asks. “They haven’t told us anything about the challenge yet.”
“And I don’t suspect they will,” I admit. If they haven’t yet even hinted at how they’ll first test us—it’s likely going to remain a surprise. At least to us. “I just chose my most familiar weapon. Light, powerful, and versatile.”
Nante purses her lips, unsure.
“I wonder if the eclipse has something to do with the trial?” the puck murmurs. “A hint maybe?”
“The what?”
“Oh! While you were in the banquet there was an eclipse. My mom told me that’s super rare. Do you think it was for the trials?”
My eyebrows pull down. “What do you mean, exactly? Can you describe it?” I hadn’t seen any eclipse—though we were inside the Flicker Court banquet hall with the curtains drawn—nor have I heard anyone else remark on it. Surely that would have been a major event, if there were even a partial eclipse this year.
Charlie shrugs. “The sun went totally black for like a full minute. All the servants stopped to watch it, waiting for something big to happen, but it never did. The sun came back out a minute or two later and still nothing. Then my brother and sister were ordered to serve breakfast, so we gave up waiting.”
I press my eyes closed, trying to puzzle it out. The sun went entirely dark while we were inside—apparently no one had known about the major celestial event.
There are several possibilities. It could be some dark magic that has to do with the scourge —a scary thought, but perhaps the most likely. It could also have been plan
ned magic as a way to celebrate the trials, but badly timed—why would they do it while we were all inside?
Or... my eyes drift over to my brother’s murderer, her face severe, her blond hair pulled back into a ponytail and a generic sword in her hand. Her eyes are black, as usual. Her frame is slight, her eyes big, her clothing plain and even raggedy. Everything suggests she’s weak and pathetic. Someone to be protected or ignored—certainly not someone to be feared.
Is this all a farce? Is there more beneath the surface?
Based on Charlie’s timing the eclipse happened around the time of the court showcase. Around the time Caelynn did nothing with her power.
It’s not possible she is the one that blacked out the sun. Right?
Caelynn
Rev watches me with an expression of shock and confusion. I’m not sure what he’s figured out—there are quite a few possibilities, but I can’t afford to be distracted right now. I’m the underdog, I know. Ill prepared but not nearly as weak as they all assume me to be, which is exactly how I prefer it.
Still, I am untrained and out of practice, so I will need every ounce of determination to make it through today.
I return my attention to the weapons rack. We are given our pick of any weapons we’d like, and there are hundreds of options. Blades of so many shapes and sizes, each best for a certain frame or fighting style.
These kinds of weapons aren’t exactly my forte these days. I did enjoy my double katana set once upon a time. I handle one of a few small blades, getting a feel for its weight and length. I heave a sigh. I’m not prepared for this part and find myself hoping the first trial doesn’t involve hand to hand combat.
I’ll add that to my mental notes.
One, get a warm jacket.
Two, practice sword play.
I’m sure there’ll be more I need before these trials are through. For now, I add one more item.
Three, survive.
Out in front of us are iron gates studded with rubies, towering at least fifty feet high. The rest of the champions are now converging in front of them. I grab a pair of small swords and quickly strap them to my back. Those will have to do for now. They’re the closest thing available to my old set. Most likely, I’ll have to use one at a time. Using the two together is a challenge, and I’m not at all prepared for it.
I hope I’ve retained some muscle memory.
The doors crack open, exposing a tall sliver of light. I watch the blinding light with awe. It’s beautiful and pure and terrifying. Light exposes the truth. Shadows conceal them.
I close my eyes, letting the warmth of the newly exposed sun settle on my face, taking in long breaths of air.
I pull out one of my swords just to feel the grip, to adjust my hand and squeeze it tightly. Then, I step forward.
I AM THE LAST TO LEAVE the training area. The last to face the cheering crowds roaring down at us. The last to step into the light.
My pain swirls around my soul, wrapping around it like armor. I will use it. I will use my sadness, my hopelessness, to fuel me today. And tomorrow. Until these trials are over. Until this world is saved and I can slip back into those shadows and disappear.
So, I pull it in. Every bad thing that has happened to me. Every terrible thing I’ve done—for good reason or not, it doesn’t matter. Every person whose life I’ve irrevocably changed. I soak in their hatred. I wear my own like armor.
“We’re going to kill you, you know,” the redhead says sweetly, without turning to me, as I join the group standing before a massive arc of winding green and black vines adorned with thorns as large as my torso.
“Today, champions!” the puck hollers, her voice magically magnified and even so it’s hard to hear her over the roar of the crowds. “Your trials begin. First, you will compete in a basic form of competition. A race.”
Whispers erupt from the crowd and gathered champions alike. I don’t for a moment I think it will be anything simple. We’ll have a starting line and a finish line, with who the hell knows what in between. My only question is how many people will pass this challenge? Only the first three to cross will win? The top six? Ten?
I look around at my fellow entrants. Who is the fastest?
The dwarf will be the slowest, I decide quickly. Though, he isn’t even waiting for the puck to finish announcing our trial. He’s already—wisely— pulling his armor off and tossing it to the side, leaving only his bulky hair-covered chest. I give him a nod, but his eyes are full of fearful determination. He gives no sign that he sees me at all.
“The course,” the puck continues, “will take you through ten miles of swamp and forest. There will be brutal obstacles and some of our lands most formidable creatures there to stop you at every turn. You must be fast, but you must be strong. You must be vicious. All fifteen of you may pass today’s test. Or perhaps there will only be three or less who succeed. You will have a time limit of one hour. It doesn’t particularly matter who comes in first or in last—as long as you make it before the timer clicks to zero. Make it through these gates in one hour, and you will remain a champion. One hour and one second—you are no longer a champion in the Trial of Thorns.”
One hour. Ten miles. That’s an average of six minutes per mile—that would be a challenge for even the most athletic humans without any obstacles. Fae can run, on average, twice as fast as a human. Even out of shape fae could manage an obstacle-less course of this size. Which means the obstacles will be formidable.
I staring through the gates to the forest beyond. Any manner of challenges could be waiting for us. I consider if I’d be better off waiting at the back, letting the boldest get hit with the brunt of fiercest attacks.
“We expect not every faery who begins this trial will survive to the end. So, while we frown upon direct inter-champion fighting, we wish to make the trials as realistic as possible. During each trial, you may do anything short of death to stop other champions from crossing the finish line. If a contestant is unfairly killed during the challenge, the queen will pass down judgement. The moment the challenge is over, our strict rules—immediate death to any who kills an active contestant—will be back in place.”
Rev
I stand at the front of the pack, head high and shoulders back, and stare out past the giant thorn arches. But my lips curl into a smile as Miss. Krovan tells us the punishment for killing another contestant during a trial. All I have to do is make it look like an accident and boom, no consequences to my revenge. In fact, I’m fairly certain I’d be considered a hero just for that act alone. Any who end her life will be greatly rewarded. Unofficially, of course.
The shade witch stands in the back, eyes dull and bored as usual. Why is she even here? She doesn’t try, she doesn’t care. She isn’t strong. She’s hated.
The only purpose her presence serves is to anger my family and to fuel the stupid Shadow Court’s rebellion. She cannot win.
And if I have anything to do with it, she won’t even last through one trial.
The simple rules are finished, the champions set, the betting commenced. My heart begins to pound as the high fae flag is raised and the countdown begins.
In thirty seconds, I will have one hour to run ten miles and fight whatever creatures the courts have prepared. Easy. This trial’s only purpose—as was already admitted— is simply to whittle out the weaklings.
I will have plenty of time to ensure my enemies do not make it out of this alive.
In one hour’s time, I wouldn’t be surprised if there were only eight champions remaining—the ruling courts. We are the strongest. The most prepared.
I take in a deep breath as the last seconds trickle down. The crowd roars, “Three. Two. One.”
I am fifteen feet ahead of the next champion in only moments. Running ahead may be a bad strategy, as it will mean facing the brunt of the worst dangers. But I highly suspect the first third of the course will be the easiest, the most dangerous feat will come in at the end, and running ahead will give me the chance
to scout out the perfect place to ambush her.
Caelynn
I begin the race at a walk as the others sprint forward. Rev is the front runner immediately, the others in a large pack following his tracks. I am left behind, and I take the moment to wave at all my “fans” in the stands lining the first few hundred feet of our course. An egg lands at my feet, and I step right on it with a smile.
Once I reach the edge of the amber forest, I run.
I hold back my shadow magic that could shoot me ahead a dozen feet at a time and just use my physical strength. Every fae, even the strongest, have limits to their magic. If we use it all on menial tasks, we’ll have nothing left to fight with.
The copper trees hang over the path, and I enjoy the view for the entire first mile. Then, the roar of a massive creature causes a shudder to rumble through my body.
It’s not him, I remind myself. He wouldn’t be here.
I’ve already faced the world’s worst ancient beast. I can’t say I survived because he stole my soul, but I am still technically alive so, I suppose I have something to say about the experience.
At least I won’t be afraid of beasts that most fae would cower before.
With the Night Bringer in my mind’s eye as I turn the corner and find three dragons battling with several champions, I almost laugh. Several of the least imposing champions are stuck on this first obstacle. The dwarf is cowering behind a shield in front of the red dragon. The Webb Court female has the green dragon stuck between a wall of sticky webs. And two others I couldn’t name are dodging the largest black dragon.
There are many ways we could handle these beasts, but speed is the game so moving past them is the only option. I sprint forward, towards the trembling dwarf—dwarves and dragons are not exactly on friendly terms—and use my shadow magic for the first time. I catch the attention of the red dragon, my black smoke streaming behind, and I stop to smile and wave at him.
Trial of Thorns (Wicked Fae Book 1) Page 5