Page 82 of The Ordeals
‘A success.’
‘Exactly.’
He shifts towards me, moving in to claim a kiss, but his gaze snags on something on the floor. Reaching down, he picks it up and I realise too late … it’s Ezra’s journal. ‘What’s this?’
I blow out a breath. ‘It’s a journal. Ezra Darley’s. He was a hopeful scholar here—’
‘Why have you got Knox’s uncle’s journal?’
‘Knox’s … uncle?’ I say faintly.
‘Yes, he works for him. Writes to Knox and signs off with E.D. each time. That’s who’s been sending him all over the place in the last year and actually sent him back to Killmarth. Ezra’s the head of the family.’ He begins flipping the pages and his eyes widen. ‘There’s stuff in here about the final Ordeal. Sophia, you sly fox …’
But I barely hear him. Barely hear him above the buzzing in my ears, that tinny whine, growing louder and louder. Darley. They’re both Darleys. Of course. ‘Are you sure he’s Knox’s uncle?’
‘Yes, why? It’s kind of a family business, trading antiques, but Knox got drunk once and told me that’s notexactlywhat he huntsdown … Sophia, are you feverish?’ He places the back of his hand on my forehead, concern creasing his features. ‘You’re burning up.’
‘I … I can’t …’ I swallow, trying to process it all. Knox works for Ezra. Knox is hisnephew.Ezra is the Collector and he sent Knox here to kill the monsters, the cold ones stalking me. The Darleys aren’t hunting down antiquities. They’re working for the damn Crown as well.
All along, the Collectorwastrying to protect me.
He doesn’t want me to fail.
He’d found a way to keep me alive, yet still make me strong. He sent Knox here to keep me alive, a last attempt, someone who could enter the gates of Killmarth and stay inside them, awaiting the monster he knew was stalking me. Ensuring I survive. His last hope, like a dying star, that I uncover my full potential as a wielder. He didn’t come here to throw me off or get in my head. He truly just wanted to warn me, so that Ilived.
Which means …
‘Alden …’ I croak, panic clutching my throat. ‘Alden, my magic … I’m not strong enough. I’m not going to make it through the final Ordeal.’
Chapter 28
Nothing is Given Unless You Take It
‘I’m nowhere near powerful enough.’
‘Sophia,’ he says, reaching for my hand. ‘You’ve got through every Ordeal so far. I’ve seen your magic. You can wield, you—’
‘Not well, and not for long. The drain it has on me, thecost…’ I shift away from him, standing abruptly. ‘It all makes sense now. I’m not like you and Knox. I don’t have that kind of power to call on, at least not yet. How can I have been such a fool, such a headstrongfool—’
‘Sophia, you canseemagic. That’s rare. Listen—’
‘No!’ I say, clenching my hands into fists. ‘I am right. I’m right for the first time in months, possibly years. Remember the Crucible? Remember how I bled? My nose? I’ve been painstakingly training my magic,willingmyself to master illusion enough to become a full scholar. But the final Ordeal separates the weak from the strong, Alden. It’s all in here, all in Ezra Darley’s damn journal. And I’m not strong. I’m weak. My magic, what I can wield, is weak. I know I can see magic, but how far will that get me? You were right weeks ago. I got lucky. And luck … luck runs out.’
Alden bows his head and for a moment, he’s silent. ‘Then back out now. Don’t go through with it. Better that you’re alive than go in knowing your magic will fail you. Don’t do the final Ordeal.’
I stare at him, taken aback. ‘You can’t be serious …’ I begin pacing, shaking my head. ‘Come all this way and-and what? Quit? Just leave Killmarth?’ The thought of it sends fresh tremors roaming over my body. I cross my arms, hugging them tight against my chest like I can hold myself together, keep myself tethered to the only place I’ve ever felt safe. That I’ve ever truly thrived.
‘Better that you’re alive in this world, than lost to it,’ he says quietly, eyes meeting mine. ‘How can I protect you if you’re already dead?’
I blink quickly, feeling his words like a punch. ‘Is that all you think about still when you look at me? That I needprotecting?’
‘You’ve just said yourself that you’re too weak, that you won’t survive—’
‘My magic, Alden.’ I breathe. ‘Mymagicis too weak. NotIam too weak.’
‘Sophia, please, sit down. We need to talk this through,’ Alden says evenly. ‘This journal, it’s just one hopeful’s account. Just one opinion. I can lead you through the Ordeal if you’re set on doing it. I can stop anything bad from happening—’
‘No, Alden!’ I explode. ‘My gods, you don’t get this, do you? I don’t need your protection!’
