Page 27 of War Hour

The guards argue from the other side of the shield, their words mumbled in the crowd’s roar. They draw their swords, slamming the blade against it. With each strike, I get dizzier, and maintaining the force field becomes harder.

“I can’t hold it much longer.”

Ardis’s hands startle me as they reach around me, gripping my forearms to hold them steady. “Trials, you’re doing this. It’s only as strong as you are, Lysta.”

The space around me gets denser, people bunching in closer. I make eye contact with a woman who stands near me on my right. Despite her obvious fear, she steps closer to me.Concealing me from the guards, who are knocking through the crowd, trying to find out who’s making the shield.

Pride swells in my chest. They were hiding me on purpose.

Encouraged, I manipulate the shield, inching it toward the closest alley. Doireann stands on shaky legs as Thoman holds her. They walk with the bubble encircling them, as the guards continue to rain blows against the barrier.

A guard catches sight of me, recognizing me from the grand hall, and shouts, alerting the others to my presence.

I push forward, separating from the masses, as the guard plunders through them, knocking over people left and right to get to me. When the shield slots in the alley’s opening, I see Doireann looking at me from the other side of it with a sad look, the first time she has seen me since the market. She raises a shaky hand, tears escaping from her wrinkled eyes. Nudging Thoman, she draws his attention to me.

Thoman stumbles back when he finally sees me, a small smile working its way onto his face. His eyebrows furrow when he sees the guard uniform I’m wearing. The smile drops, and fora moment, I worry he will hate me like the other Untrialed who had spurned my presence in the streets.

Thoman had kept me alive following Cenna’s departure when I had given up all hope to continue on. In my mind, he was as much a brother as Cenna was my sister, if not more than. Having him hate me would be the last straw.

Go.I mouth the words, pushing the shield toward him as if to move him further into the alley.

Looking at the shield in surprise, he turns to me with realization dawning across his face. A small spark glints in his eyes, and a conspiring smile erupts. Steadying Doireann, he gives me a one-handed salute before moving down the alley. I watch until he disappears around the corner, not knowing when I will see him again.

With a bead of sweat dripping down my temple, I shift the shield to cover myself, blocking off the alleyway.

Ardis shoves inside next to me before it closes. We stand next to each other, my heavy breathing filling the space. Looking at him, I give him a small smile as the guards beat their weapons against the wall of the shield.

The Untrialed who fought to conceal me scatters while the guard focuses on us.

I look at Ardis. “Now what?”

Ardis shrugs, the ghost of a smile passing over his lips. “Well, fighter . . . I think that’s up to you,” he says, gesturing to the surrounding shield.

Chapter 12

No guard dares manhandle me as they escort us back to the grand hall. Forgone are the shackles I once wore. Instead, I’m gifted a wide berth and wary gazes. The tables have turned, and we no longer stand on uneven ground, and it seems I’m not the only one to realize it.

But that brash confidence withers away once we are before Lord Drytas.

Like a snake’s, his eyes follow us, wide and unblinking. The haunting silence is unyielding, even when Ardis and I bow our heads, symbols of submission. Every second only adds to the tension building in the room, like a storm about to rain down in fury.

Lord Drytas leans forward atop his throne before speaking in an eerily calm voice. “I will hear no excuses. I will hear no lies. But I sure as Trial better hear a worthy explanation, or there will besevereconsequences.”

The room shifts at his lethal tone, exchanging worried glances out of the Lord of Valor’s sight. Belthan stands beside Drytas unaffected, a growing smirk smeared across his face.

Ardis steps forward, bowing low, his blonde hair falling into his face. “My lord, we were training—”

Drytas snaps off his response in a booming voice, “And your training requires interfering withmymembers of the Guard? Who are carrying out MY orders?”

Ardis doesn’t flinch as Lord Drytas reprimands him in front of a dozen guards, nor does he back away at the show of Drytas’s deadly temper. But his hands clench and then unfurl at his sides several times, making Ardis’s struggle obvious.

Lord Drytas stands, pacing in front of his throne, but his coal-like eyes never leave us.

Ardis tries again. “Please accept my apologies, my lord. I was only trying to produce your desired results in the only way I knew would work. We never meant to undermine your authority.”

My stomach knots at his placating words that sound far more than just convincing. During our time on the streets, Ardis’s loyalties faded to the background while he helped me harness my power. But now, it’s like a slap in the face to be reminded he did so for Lord Drytas.

“And did you?” Drytas snarls the words, nose turning up at us. “Did you accomplish what I ordered?”

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