Page 53 of War Hour

Neith laughs sharply, nodding with pursed lips. “Yeah, just ignore me. You’ll be out of here soon enough.” Before anyone can protest his word, Neith shouts without warning, “Conlen!”

The younger boy from earlier portals next to Neith, barely stumbling from the shift in location.

With them side by side, no one could mistake them for anything but siblings. The boy nods to me, lacking the same confidence his older brother oozes.

The portal Conlen had created looked so similar to what Sar had done only a few days ago, but the boy didn’t appear to be struggling.

Did he have better mastery of the ability, or is it easier in shorter distances?

But that would mean that Sar Trialed in Wisdom—not in Self.

“You’re with me next. Go grab your sword,” Neith orders without taking his eyes off me.

A look of uneasiness passes over Conlen’s face, but he nods, running to a rack of weapons where two other boys train together.

Seeing the focus of my attention, Evander interjects. “Those would be Lord Rhen’s sons from the Court of Will. The sixteen-year-old is Jona, and the nine-year-old is Eiko.”

Both boys have short black hair, narrow eyes, and a pale complexion.

Completely oblivious to the tension happening across the field, Jona shows his brother a maneuver with a thin swordbefore correcting how Eiko replicates it with a smaller wooden version.

Neither had been in my meeting with the Crowns and their Heirs, but I’m positive the only empty seats were Valor’s and the one next to Torryn.

“Their older sister, Sora, is the Heir, but she wasn’t able to join us for this capital session. Her mother has taken her spot in any official proceedings for the meantime.”

Evander answers my unasked question.

It’s obvious from the look on Evander’s face there is more to the story, but I have too much going on to press the issue. Especially with Visha staring hot daggers at me from behind Evander.

“Heirs can be spouses, too?” I ask, shifting on my feet.

Evander nods. “Visha here is Lord Nicaise’s niece, and since he doesn’t currently have any children, his wife presides as his Heir. Which is typical until the Heir turns fourteen.”

“And since I’m so close with my uncle, he offered me a spot in training with Evander”—Visha hesitates—“and the other Heirs.”

Bash lets out a snort, and I struggle to not send a grin his way. Maybe my perception of Visha isn’t as far off as I thought.

Visha ignores him, turning to Evander with a bright smile on her face.

I watch from the sidelines as the close group teases and bickers with each other, letting myself fall to the background.

Tension eases from my shoulders when I catch sight of Sar moving through the seats of the arena, perching in the front row. Giving her a small wave, I try to get her attention, but her focus is locked behind me. Her face is tight, a deep frown settling across it.

My first instinct is that Torryn sent her to keep an eye on me. Worried that I’ll say the wrong thing to the Heirs.

Following her gaze, I survey around me for what has caught her attention, landing on Neith and Conlen, who are mid-fight.

As if feeling my attention, Neith jerks his head back and forth between me and his brother—watching for Conlen’s attack with only half of his focus.

Conlen tries to use the distraction to his favor, swinging his sword, when Neith’s eyes are on me. But Neith bends backward, avoiding the hit without even looking to his brother. Conlen groans at the missed hit, his brother’s smugness rubbing salt in the wound.

The fight continues, Conlen unable to land a hit on the Heir. When Conlen takes an elbow to the face, I gasp, and Neith whips around to look at me. But his gaze moves past me to Sar, who stands at the metal cage, fingers clenching the barrier.

I think nothing of it until I see the wild look in Neith’s eyes.

He gestures to me, leveling his sword at my face. “Would you like to get some fighting experience in? I promise I’d take it easy on you.”

The smirk curling across his face tells me Neith would do anything but take it easy on me.

---