Page 18 of War Hour

Wrapping my arms around myself, I echo, “Here I stand.”

A moment of silence lingers, and a wolfish grin grows on Belthan’s face, widening as he takes in my disgruntled appearance. “Lord Drytas has some questions for you...” He glances at me, turning up his nose as he looks around the room.

I nod. “Okay, as soon as I—”

Belthan reaches forward, his hand wrapping around my upper arm. “Afraid not. My way’s faster.”

A momentof weightlessness sweeps me off my feet, as if I’m falling. The floor rises to meet me and then I’m standing in the throne room. With no preparation, I stagger forward and try to find my balance in a whirl of dizziness.

Belthan mutters next to me as he releases his grip. “Please try not to vomit. I hate it when they do that.”

I send a glare at him from my doubled-over position, too occupied settling my stomach to retort.

The world comes to a standstill when Lord Drytas acknowledges me from across the room. He sits on his throne, red robes spread out around him like a blanket of blood.

“You survived after all.”

Suspicion glints in his gaze that wasn’t there before, a sense of danger lingering in his tone.

Painful tension snaps through the air, and I know something has happened beyond my Trial.

“What’s your name, girl?” Drytas asks, his face a cold mask.

He sentenced me to what could have been my death, and he didn’t even know my name? Only deemed worthy of being more than another face now that I’ve passed the Trial. A pang pierces my heart as the names on the Trial walls carry new meaning. How else would they be remembered?

“Lysta,” I tell him, strained, “my lord.”

My stomach rolls at the words.

Searching the room for a hint at what has changed, I note the guards lingering in the doorways and beside the throne. The only difference is the sudden appraisal they give me. Before, their eyes didn’t deem me worthy of a once-over, but now, theyremain glued to me, waiting for an answer to a question I don’t know yet.

“You will do well here, Lysta. Live easy, grow strong, have a purpose to your life.” Crimson in Lord Drytas’s cloak reflects like fire in his dark eyes, his gaze burning through me. “Try to remember that when you answer my next question.”

I risk a glance at Belthan to see if his expression might give away what Lord Drytas speaks of. His face has darkened similarly to his lord’s, a hard glare pinning me in place.

Drytas’s voice is barely above a whisper when he asks, “Did you do anything during your Trial other than complete it as directed?”

I shake my head before I even fully process his question. Why is he asking that? Does he know about the Kadara? Did I truly release it?

“I-I did what I thought I was supposed to.” I can’t reign in the quiver in my voice.

“The passage to the Trial collapsed—the door you had your hand on, not a day ago, is now shattered into pieces.” Drytas points a ringed finger at me, standing at the foot of his throne. “And you were the last one in there. Before you, I had Trialed no one in over a month. Then, the same day you Trial, it ends up destroyed!” Drytas’s rage consumes his every word. “You did something, and you will tell me what.”

Unable to string a coherent sentence that will convince him that I did nothing that he accuses, I shake my head.

“Tell. The. Truth.” Venom drips from his lips, his eyes crazed as he reaches out to me.

My throat compressing, I scramble, fingers tearing at my neck as if able to pry his invisible grip from my windpipe. Air floods into my lungs when he lets go as I gasp.

“What. Did. You. DO?”

The force clamps around my throat again, my heels lifting off the ground as he moves his hand upward. Dark specks cross my vision, appearing one by one, before filling in.

Constriction forms in my chest, wrenching itself tighter and tighter into a compressed ball before it explodes. My terror and anxiety release in an instant, and through heavy-lidded eyes, I watch a barrier surge out from within me. Pushing out, hitting Belthan first, knocking him several feet backward.

The force field grows in a perfect circle around me, propelling back anything it comes into contact with. Guards from every corner of the room rush toward me, but like Belthan, they cannot stop the impending attack. They land haphazardly against the surrounding walls, Lord Drytas among the fallen.

Chapter 9

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