Page 36 of War Hour

I imagined the world outside of Falland’s walls to be the same as inside—bleak and struggling and wilting away.

Lord Drytas fed us this picture of war-torn courts, destitute in the aftermath of their endless battles. But he’d lied about so many things who’s to say that wasn’t another manipulation? Maybe some of us would have tried to leave if we’d known.

I’d like to think I might have.

The walk toward the capital is silent, Torryn and Ardis some feet ahead, whispering to each other.

I strain my ear for even a word of their conversation.

When Torryn peeks over his shoulder, catching my eyes, he straightens at my attention.

I wait for a snide retort, but he turns back to Ardis and speaks lower.

My mind is divided on Torryn and his deceit, attacking the other side’s arguments but neither winning the war. He’s the reason I was Trialed. But he’s also my only hope of fixing Falland—if he’s telling the truth about his plan.

Torryn didn’t say why he’d been in Falland, leaving me to think he had, in fact, been hoping to face the Court of Valor’s Trial but stumbled onto more than he expected.

Sar, walking next to me, says hesitantly, “You’ll find, once we arrive in the capital, few people will care about fixing what’s wrong in Valor as much as Torryn. Most would have turned a blind eye to it all.”

Narrowing my eyes at her, I can’t help but wonder if she’d heard my thoughts. If she was of Torryn’s court, could she read minds, too?

“That does less to make me likeTorrynand more to make me despise the capital.”

Sar flashes me a small smile before tucking her lip between her teeth. “Not entirely unwise. The capital is”—she pauses—“not for everyone. It’s supposed to be neutral ground for the seven courts to gather, but putting that many power-hungry, sword-happy people together—it’s a recipe for war.”

At “power hungry,” my eyes find the edge of Torryn’s sleeve, where I can just catch the beginning of his Trial tattoo. How many has he faced? At least two from the powers I know him to have.

I barely survived the one.

“Is Trialing more than once common in the capital?” I ask, turning to Sar.

At my question, Ardis and Torryn go silent in front of us. Torryn sends Sar a warning look, and my interest piques.

Obviously, I’ve stepped into a conversation not meant for me, but their hesitation only feeds my curiosity.

“No, it isn’t.”

When Sar doesn’t continue, I summon the courage to ask, “I know so little... Drytas kept so much from the Untrialed. I don’t want to head into this looking like a fool. Will you just tell me what you can?”

Sar’s eyes brighten as she looks at me like I’ve passed a test I didn’t know I was taking. In an instant, the rigidity in her posture relaxes. When she speaks again, the timidness that had laced her tone is gone.

“This is a mark of failure, or you can just call them your tally. We do.” She extends her hand out to me, exposing the underside of her wrist. The beginning of a Trial tattoo sweeps under her sleeve, but she draws my attention to a single tally mark dashed across the protruding vein. “Did you see any of them in the Court of Valor?”

I think hard, scrutinizing every tattoo I’d seen in Falland, but shake my head. “You get them from failing a Trial?”

Sar nods, twisting a small braid between her fingers. “You can fail twice without consequences, but fail your third Trial, and that’s the end. You don’t come out. Even if you survived the test despite failing. It all just”—she lets out a shuddering breath—“ends.”

My heart thumps.

“I barely survived my first one,” I whisper.

For a moment, I don’t think anyone has heard me. Sar says nothing but then Torryn and Ardis exchange a look. Torryn’s face remains steely and unchanged, but Ardis purses his lips in a slight frown.

Sar answers back, just as quietly. “It’s not for everyone.” She inhales deeply, unwinding the braid, then braids it again. “That’s half of the reason it isn’t really done. You’re already taking so much of a risk to Trial once—not to mention not all Trials are built the same. Some are easier than others. For some, if you fail, there is no walking out or second chances. You can’t trust what happened in previous court’s Trials to gauge what happens in another, and no one can warn you about what happens in it.”

Noticing her careful wording, I push, “And the other half of the reason?”

Sar laughs half-heartedly. “The other half is just court politics. If you can convince each Crown to Trial in their court, then you could Trial in all seven courts if you truly wanted to. But there’s a slim chance of convincing even one of them, let alone them—”

---