Page 10 of Trial of Thorns
But the queen isn’t impressed with her options, so they devised a competition to prove ourselves.
They letherinto the competition because I wasn’t good enough.
It’s bull, of course. My father will just find any reason to put me down.
Brielle doesn’t respond, but her eyes watch me closely. I pretend not to notice how they linger on my abdomen. Her mate has been dead for over a decade. I cannot blame her for noticing other males.
“You haven’t seen the scourge at its height,” I tell her. “I have. I’ve seen what we’re facing. I’ve seen what will happen to our people if we don’t stop it.”
“And? You’d let your brother’s murderer become a hero in order to save us?”
“No. I’d let you all burn to get my revenge,” I admit. At least, to this, she smiles. “I am calm not because I don’t care but because I don’t believe there is even the slightest chance the shadow witch gets within a mile of the winners circle. She’s weak—did you notice the color of her eyes?”
She purses her lips. “She’s from the Shadow Court. I assumed her eye color is black like her soul.”
I smirk. “Shadow Court eyes are sometimes dark but always with a flicker or border of light. Flecks of gold or a rim of silver. Dull eyes, even to them, still only means one thing.”
Rook stands, a wicked smile crossing his face. “She’s weak.”
I nod. Even if she did have power strong enough to compete—she’s out of practice after living as a human for ten years.
“She’s no one. She’ll fail quickly and easily. And I’m calm because I have a plan.”
“Oh,” Nante says, leaning forward to hear the gossip. She’s the Frost Court champion, but she’s weak. The only reason she’ll make it far in the competition is because of her friends—us. “What is it? It’s not like you can just kill her.”
Rook’s eyebrows flick up. “Historically, many fae have died during the trials.”
“Indeed they have,” I say low, watching the flames dance. “I find it unlikely this girl makes it through these challenges with her life intact.”
Caelynn
“You have nothing toprove to us, Caelynn.”
I blink and look up to the elderly fae woman. The Shadow Court queen, Queen of the Whisperwood—my home. She is small, feeble, her face sallow, skin thick and scaly. She is nearly five hundred years old and beloved by our people. But her power is limited. We are a weak court.
“You are a hero to us. As only a child you defeated a foe much stronger than yourself. You are what we all aim to be.”
