Page 152 of Trials of Dusk and Dreams
“We’re going to be fine, guys,” I tell them, tugging at my collar. “Believe it or not, we have prepared.”
Legion gives me a look as we arrive at an arched entrance and explains loud enough for my friends to hear, “You’ll be signed in and kitted out with supplies. Remember, it is an exhibition. The Folk enjoys extravagance. It’s not just winning. It’s performing. Don’t hold back.”
“We should still destroy the cunt,” Styx grumbles, meaning Puck, I guess. His eyes narrow on other stragglers running into the fort.
“It won’t make a difference,” Legion returns.
A raven caws up ahead in the branches. Styxflickersand then disappears. Legion’s jaw clenches. He checks around to see if anyone notices, but only a few people ahead are nearby.
“Why won’t it make a difference?” I ask.
He gives me a grim look. “Puck has used the entire temple-load of wisps to fortify the trials so the events will continue no matter what happens to him. Usually, this failsafe is a collective effort from the Shining Host while Titania slumbers. Once you begin, you cannot stop until the last trial is complete, or dusk arrives and survivors are transported back here.”
“Can’t stop—like when they forced my feet to keep walking?”
He frowns. “I don’t believe your feet will be compelled now, but something else will ensure the timeframe.”
“Like a ticking timebomb,” Max mutters.
A shiver runs across my arms, lifting the hairs.
“One last thing,” Legion says, pulling me aside urgently. He stares at Max and Geraldine until they head through the arch, giving us a moment. Then he retrieves something from his pocket—a pink skull charm. “To block your pheromones. It’s all I could come up with at the last minute.”
He attaches it to my chain. I cover it with my hand and activate the magic. While I don’t sense a difference, the tightness in his posture eases a little. He inhales and nods. “Good enough.”
“Thank you.”
His hand lifts to my face, eyes searching mine. “The Dreamscape and Nightmare trials will be held here in the fort, but the Subterranean infiltration will be captured on resonance stones pinned on your bodies. Nothing you do or say will be private. Remember that. Even the silencing charms we gave you won’t block the resonance stones. But it is also for this reason that we believe the trials will progress as they always have.” His tone goes quieter. “This is not a massacre. This is entertainment.”
Not a massacre. Then why did Varen mention one?
Chapter 62
Willow
We arrive just in time to join the line of exhibitors forming around the arena. Glancing up, I spot faerie nobility occupying each house loge. Their faces alight with joy, hands clutching goblets of fairy wine that slosh about in their excitement. Further in the stands, Folk of all kinds gather to be entertained. Even green-cloaked guards wander the tiers with wide grins. Is Briar up there, ensuring everyone wears their smile?
Sunrise peeks through the top of structural trees forming the fort. Leaves shimmer gold against the pinkish-blue sky. No dragons perch on buttresses. Instead, their eyes gleam from within their bonded Radiants prowling around their troops, issuing last-minute instructions.
Ladies-in-waiting, dressed in extravagant attire matching their hair, bustle along the line, assigning and pinning resonance stones. For once, I’m in the correct uniform to match the others. Mustard Seed pins my stone to my chain with an arrogant smirk before moving on.
Another lady-in-waiting, Cobweb this time, hands me a scroll before continuing down the line. Finally, Moth takes my hand and stamps my palms with something that sears. When I cry out, she flashes me a cruel smile and moves to the next person. My palm burns and itches with the power of a magic circle covering it.
“What did she do?” I ask, but no one responds.
Those ahead on the challenge leaderboard are called forward to the center of the arena to receive a blessing from the Keepers of the Cauldron. All Shadows. What a surprise. Everything happens so fast it’s hard to stay calm. Only Geraldine and Max stand in the House of Shadow section. We didn’t have time to bring Becky, Colin, and the other Youngies in. My heart races as I realize how unprepared we are.
Bowls of water are placed before each exhibitor while I’m rushed forward to meet one of six masked druids standing around an enormous rock. It’s flat and wide. It wasn’t here during the Pageant of Prowess and hums with familiar magic.
I hunt the House of Shadow area for one of the Six and lock eyes with Legion. He stands in the shadows under the archway, hands in pockets, eyes on me with an unreadable expression, then looks pointedly at something over my shoulder—to the druid.
My Keeper holds out a water-filled bowl and bids me to pull out a blessing, clearing their throat. It sounds feminine. My eyes snap to theirs, hidden behind slits in the wooden mask, but it’s impossible to determine an identity. Until I lean into my shifter senses and take a long, slow inhale that fills my lungs with a familiar, sweet scent.
“Peablossom?” I whisper.
She lifts the bowl, insisting I hurry up. The brand on my palm burns and itches, compelling me to obey. That must bewhat Legion warned about—the magical enforcement ensuring we proceed with the trials. So I stick my hand in.
Other Shadows pull out strange weapons or magical items ranging from a long, dark wooden staff wrapped in rune stones to glittering orbs. Anything, any size, can come out of the water.
