Page 12 of War Hour

Ardis’s hand tightens around the handle. “You won’t die while Trialing because you won’t even make it in the doors of the Trial.”

The words linger like a threat in the air before he swings open the door and walks out. I hear the locks click again, and I sag, not having the strength to stand upright.

It ends up being me who doesn’t sleep as I sit in the corner, watching for the door to open. I’m not sure if I’m waiting for them to come to collect me for my Trial or for someone to make good on Ardis’s threat, but the fear stays with me the whole night.

Chapter 6

At dawn, I stand, expected to Trial; the reality sharpens with every passing second and frantic beat of my heart.

Members of the Guard line both sides of the hall, haloed in an ominous glow from the torches behind them. There isn’t so much as a whisper released into the room as I’m escorted forward. Their gazes follow me in blatant curiosity, as if debating whether I’ll walk back out in the end, comparing their perception of me to what they know lies beyond the Trial door.

Belthan stands at the head of the Guard, a disturbed smile plastered across his face, when his eyes land on my approaching figure. I flinch away at his look, remembering the feeling of his hand around my neck.

Ardis hovers nearby, arms crossed, head down, ignoring my presence. I find I prefer it to Belthan’s unwavering attention.

At the very end of the hall, Lord Drytas lingers next to an ornate glass door, white etchings covering the face in intricate drawings. His bloodred cloak reflects in the mirror as if it’s his own personal background.

The entrance to the Court of Valor’s Trial.

A cold sweat beads at the nape of my neck, adding to the uncomfortable, clammy feeling of my palms. In the ultimatesteps of my death march, I regret the few bites of food I managed to swallow. I’ll need the energy to fuel me through this Trial, but now it only seems to fuel the urge to vomit down Lord Drytas’s front.

Eyeing the drawings on the glass door, I find an empty area in the middle. A ring, absent of the swirling carvings, painting the expanse of its face.

“Okay, hurry it up!”Belthan pushes me toward the door, and I stumble forward, shooting him a glare over my shoulder.

Staring at the space in the center, I focus on a dull imprint on the reflective surface shaped like the outline of a human hand. Not jagged as if chipped away but smooth. Worn down. From countless people pressing their skin to the same spot.

Lord Drytas speaks as I’m nudged forward by Belthan.

“You’ll enter the Trial alone, and once the door seals behind you, there is no getting out until it has ended.”

“What do I need to do once inside?” I ask, voice cracking.

My mind races at all the possibilities beyond the door. There isn’t any training to prepare me for this, but it still feels as if I’m being held under water and asked not to drown.

Drytas huffs in irritation, rolling his eyes. “We can only discuss details of what happens in the Trial with those who have successfully completed it. A rather annoying caveat, but alas, there is no workaround.”

I shake my head. It explained why stories of what happened in the Trial never made its way to the streets.

“People die during Trialing,” I say, more to myself than to Drytas.

I know he has little care for my life or any who came before me.

Drytas hums in agreement, unaffected. “Yes, but that would not be nearly as interesting. I hope you live, or this will all have been such a waste of my time.”

My stomach turns at his flippant dismissal. That’s it? That is all I would get? I didn’t expect an ounce of empathy from Lord Drytas, but no directions or explanation for what I would face?

The urge to throw up reappears.

Drytas nods to the door. “Hand. Now.”

I step backward, but Belthan is there, gripping my hand so tightly I’m concerned he’ll crush the small bones. My heart races as I fight against Belthan, and a few hot tears sneak out without my permission.

My fingers smooth out against the cool glass, pressed there relentlessly by Belthan.

Nothing happens for a beat, then another.

My heavy breathing fills the quiet space, accompanied only by my pounding heart. It crosses my mind it might be loud enough for them to hear.

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