Page 25 of War Hour

Did he even realize what it meant? What it would mean for the Untrialed?

“Half of the city will be in the market when it opens today.”

Ardis nods again, and I want to smack him. Glaring at him, I stalk away from him, planning to warn the people gathering in the market.

A large hand wraps around my wrist, pulling me back.

Standing chest-to-chest with Ardis, I shove him away before smacking him across the face with my other hand.

He brought me here to usetheirmisfortune as some training experiment, uncaring of the consequences they might encounter.

His face recoils to the right, and he holds it there, looking off to the side. Jaw ticking, he turns to me, eyes darker than before. “Don’t start something you can’t finish, which, without your powers, you can’t.”

Standing tall, I narrow my eyes at him. Ripping my hand out of his iron grip, I snarl in his face. “I don’t have time for this.”

“Do you really think any of the people will listen to you—freshly Trialed turned guard? They won’t trust you!”

I look away from his growling face and back to the market, and my heart sinks into my stomach.

“But you can protect them in other ways.” He pauses. “Can’t you, Lysta?”

He isn’t asking—no, he’s reminding me I could do something.

Turning back to him, hands trembling at my sides, I ask, “What do I do?”

Ardis hasto hold me in place when the guards arrive in the market, knocking over stands, smashing food. My muscles twitch, begging for me to run. A trained response from years of avoiding days like this.

“Calm down,” Ardis hisses in my ear, and I still.

Staring him down, nose-to-nose, I snarl right back.

“Well, then,tellme what to do. If your form of training me is just pissing me off, you can just leave.”

We stand in the middle of the Market. Before, every gaze had followed us, but now, guards were every ten feet, and we’ve become invisible.

Ardis nudges me as a passing guard bumps into him, but he doesn’t move away and continues to talk into my ear, his voice prominent in the loud market.

“I can’t tell you who to protect, but when you feel those same feelings from the grand hall, I want you to hold on to it. But you need to focus it away from you. Focus on how much you want to protect them, ’cause that seems to be where this power is rooted.”

He’s quiet for a moment, and I move to step away but stop when he continues.

“Just like with the Kadara.”

My eyes flash to his, seeing only a neutral face. He hasn’t mentioned what he’d seen in my mind. I almost forgot all the things he knows from witnessing my Trial.

Hands balling in fists, I’m defensive of how I’d freed the Kadara and protective over the visions he’d seen.

Ardis shakes his head. “No, listen. You were protecting it. You didn’t seek to control it or kill it. You didn’t just try to escape it—you saved it. There’s always a relation between how you solve the Trial and the gift you receive.”

I get a glimpse of an impressed face before he tucks it away, reverting to his neutral mask.

“You just need to channel that.”

He makes it sound easier than it is. Of course I want to protect them. What’s happening isn’t fair or just. It’s another of Drytas’s power highs, maneuvering his citizens around like pawns.

Anger surges through me at the destroyed food littering the ground that these people need desperately. It’s followed quickly by frustration as I watch the people unsure of how to defend their knocked-over stalls. They stand there, staring, unable to argue or stop the madness as their livelihood is decimated in front of them.

It makes my blood boil, but it isn’t enough to summon my shield.

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