Page 11 of Marked By the Enemy
A column of fire burst from the floor ten feet away, howled upward. The fiery explosion erupted with a deafening roar like a wild beast in pain as it clawed its way from deep in the depths of Caldaen. Its heat sent shivers down my spine, making my ears ring and drowning out any other sound. The heat washed over the Elemental Seats, Prince Darian, and the man with the sparkling rod, causing tiny drops of sweat to form on their foreheads.
As the fire vanished, a cool breeze blew through the space, relieving the sudden warmth and leaving a chill in its wake. Wind sliced past my calves like a blade drawn low. Ice cracked outward along the floor and shattered under invisible pressure.
I decided these were illusions crafted to provoke panic, instinct, and reaction. But I was a trained assassin. I was brave. The bond surged. Hungry. It wanted me to answer. I didn’t move.
Another burst of fire erupted—closer this time, hot enough to press at my jaw. The tester with the wand said nothing. The council looked on. Darian never blinked.
I closed my eyes and let the magic rise and fall. In my mind, I shaped it like breath—wave on wave—like the sea drills the Boundless taught us.
They’d taken us to the black coast and marched us waist-deep into the surf. No weapons. No footing. The water had slammed in from every side, cold enough to split bone. We had to stay upright. Breathe through it. Let the wave pass without letting it take us. It was specifically training for when the magic hit like that—sudden, invisible, all at once.
It whipped past again, sharp and cold. I didn’t flinch, but briefly wondered if the other orphan assassins were journeying to kill the princes—one assassin for each prince.
Something cracked beneath the floor. I gasped. My reaction was my fault for letting my mind drift away. A tremor climbed up through the stone. The bond jolted, flared, and tried to take hold. I held tighter. Focused on stillness. On refusal.
“Enough,” Darian said.
The enchantments or triggers or whatever they were fell away. Silence swept through the chamber, full and final.
The tester with the sparkling rod stepped forward and tapped the rod against the floor. It flared white, then faded. “Impressive response. The human passes, Your Majesty. Your Consort shows strength.”
Several Councilors exchanged glances and didn’t object. That was enough. Darian descended from the dais. He stopped when he was close enough to touch, and he smelled of sandalwood. “You fought it well.”
My mouth was tight, as if tasting something bad. “I wasn’t fighting. I was refusing.”
There was a nervous tic under his eye. “Next trial is tomorrow. It will be a different test.”
My fingernails bit into my palms. They liked to test me as if I was an experiment. The prince didn’t seem fearful about turning to dust, either. “Will I get to fight something that bleeds?”
He didn’t answer. The door opened behind me, and I pivoted around to leave. I walked through it, spine straight, pace steady. The bond billowed once, faint and slow. Almost like approval.
Chapter four
The Edge of Control
Islept after lunch for two hours. The Trial of Control had taken more than it gave back. My magical energy wasn’t depleted; rather, something more profound was lacking—concentration, perhaps, or the mechanism preventing overwhelming fear. Holding still while fire howled and ice shattered had demanded more from me than most fights.
When I woke, the bond had quieted, settling like a slow, deep, and rhythmic breath. I stood by the window for a long while, staring at the comings and goings of soldiers in the courtyard and wondering what battles they were going to or returning from. I half expected the prince to knock. He didn’t.
The maid arrived instead. The same one as yesterday. She brought snacks–lemon cake, dates, and coffee, set the tray down, and left without words or glances. I ate. Slowly. I chewed and swallowed and made each bite count. Fed like someone they didn’t want dead. When the tray was empty, I left the room. No one stopped me.
I stayed above ground, strolling along corridors without aim. I walked where the walls narrowed and then widened again, where staircases spiraled and archways led to alcoves and doors that hadn’t been opened in years. I wasn’t escaping. I was observing. Measuring what they’d let me see.
Two servants crossed my path. One dipped low in a bow, lower than needed. The other didn’t bow at all. “Consort.”
I moved on.
Later, I found a window seat tucked between two white-pillared columns. The view looked over the eastern garden—a different stretch than before. This part was quiet, shaped like a grove, ringed with tall, pale trees. They weren’t silver birch. The trunks were thick and didn’t have papery bark. Their long sleeves didn’t even flutter when the breeze picked up.
I wondered about the redhead in the pool. The one with five circles on her forehead. Could she have been a bounded, too? Had the vision come from the bond, the moonstones, or the witches’ trees?
The bond stirred again, shifting in awareness and wanting me to be ready.
The next day, they brought me to the arena at dawn. A wide circle opened to the sky, and its edges had tiers of carved stone and veined glass.
I shivered in my black shirt and leather tunic. Wind tugged at my sleeves as I stepped inside. The six council members sat above, arranged like statues in their colorful attire. Silent. Watching. I wondered why they didn’t wear their invisibility cloaks this time.
Darian stood tensely alone at the ring’s edge, arms folded. His black shirt failed to conceal the form of his muscles. His pallor made me question his life. The tester with the sparkling rod stood opposite Darian, on the other side of the ring.
