Page 39 of Empire of Flame and Thorns

A loud cheering noise rises as we step out of the corridor and onto the ground outside.

Even though it’s an overcast day, the gray light still stabs at my eyes after my ordeal last night, so I raise a hand to shield them while I blink repeatedly. Once my vision has adjusted, I suck in a sharp breath.

We’re on the floor of an arena. Packed dirt covers the ground in the shape of a large circle, and then rows of benches rise up and surround the space in several tiers. Dragon shifters fill the seats, and they cheer excitedly as we are herded towards the center of the arena floor.

While stumbling along with the others, I crane my neck and turn slowly to take it all in. My heart rate picks up as I study all the eager faces looking down at us. I don’t know what it is that we’re supposed to do, but the dragon shifters are eager, and that’s never a good sign.

My gaze finds the two Iceheart monarchs. They’re seated in two grand chairs in the very middle. That tier is wider, and there are fewer benches on it, so it was probably used by the Seelie Queen when she lived here. Draven stands there as well, along with the other seven clan leaders. From this far away, I can’t read the expression on his face. But if he has heard about the poisoning that I suffered because of his meddling, he is probably very pleased with himself.

“Contestants,” Imar calls as he strides out to the edge of an otherwise empty section a little to the left of the Icehearts.

Clothes rustle as we all turn towards him. Since we weren’t ordered to wear anything specific, I’ve changed back into my own clothes. Pants and shirt and boots are much easier to move in than a dress. My knife is also securely strapped to my thigh in case I need it for anything.

“Welcome to your first Atonement Trial,” Imar says. I can’t see his face clearly from this distance, but it sounds like he is grinning. “Today, we will truly cull the unworthy. Only half of you will make it to the next trial.”

Several shocked gasps echo from our group. I cast a few quick glances around me. By my best estimate, there are maybe eighty of us. That means forty will make it through to the next round. All things considered, those are decent odds. Depending on what the trial is, I should be able to make it without too much trouble.

“The objective is this,” Imar continues. “Be among the last forty standing inside the circle.”

Confusion ripples through our group as we glance around the arena floor. There is no circle anywhere to be seen. However, I’m not stupid enough to draw attention to myself by pointing that out, so I simply turn back to Imar.

Someone else is, though.

“What circle?” Tommen, the guy with enhanced strength, calls while motioning with his arms at the packed dirt around us.

Silence falls over the arena.

Then black smoke explodes across Imar’s section, and a red dragon soars out of it.

I jerk back in alarm.

Cries ring out from several others as Imar in his dragon form swoops towards us. Some of the contestants summon magic.

“Attack him and you’re dead,” Gremar Fireclaw bellows from the section where all the clan leaders are standing.

The magic immediately vanishes, but we all press tighter together in the middle of the arena as Imar circles us. His wings boom in the air, sending blasts of wind towards the ground and kicking up clouds of dust.

Then he opens his jaws.

I tense, gripping the hilt of my knife even though it’s useless.

Dragon fire shoots through the air.

More cries rip from our group as we push harder together.

Imar flies in a circle around us, sending a torrent of fire straight at the ground as he flies. The heat from it vibrates through the air. I avert my eyes to protect my vision.

Once he has completed the full circle, he flies back to his empty section. Black smoke yet again explodes across the stone ledge. When it clears, Imar is once more standing there in his human form.

“Thatcircle,” he announces, and stabs a hand towards the still smoldering ground.

I shift my gaze towards it.

About halfway between our group and the wall with the first tier of spectators is now a trail of scorched dirt. It runs in a perfect circle around us.

Shouts of approval rise from the shifters in the audience.

No one in our group says anything. Not even Tommen.

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