Page 67 of War Hour

“You’re callous and rude and not an entirely pleasant person to be around—” Torryn flinches as if I’ve attacked him. “But you have yet to show me anything to make me think you are a monster. I don’t trust anyone, including you, but you’re the closest I’ve gotten to it. So, trust me a little. What your father did has no bearing on what you may do, okay?”

Torryn meets my gaze, brown eyes locking on to my own.

A lengthy pause hangs, and I worry he won’t take the truce I’m offering.

He raises his chin, crossing his arms. “It’s still not a good idea for you to be seen around me.”

I huff in irritation, shaking my head at him. “Why? We should show them a united front.”

“I’ve known them far longer than you have, and I’m saying this way is better.”

A hardness returns to Torryn’s tone, and we’ve found our newest argument.

“Because why?”

“Their distrust of me is rubbing off on you. I’ve already heard whispers of it during our meetings.” Torryn’s jaw ticks as he continues. “They need to see you as someone they can trust, and they don’t trust me.”

“Or—and here’s a revolutionary idea—you could show them you are human and are trying to do the right thing. Try earning their trust instead of powering on without it.”

Torryn shakes his head dismissively, perching on the edge of the table. “It’s not as easy as you make it seem. You’re operating under the assumption that they will be fair in their judgment.”

“Just try my way. What’s the worst that could happen?”

Chapter 26

Athrum of excitement vibrates through the halls of the capital with the approach of the Peace Ball—the social event of the year, according to Evander.Not so coincidentally, it also falls on the eve of Lord Drytas’s judgment hearing.

There isn’t a corner of the castle that doesn’t buzz with hopeful tales of the glittering night to come. It seems like topics of dresses and dancing find their way into every conversation. Even the capital staff gossip over the latest pairings who will accompany each other—Evander and Visha named several times as a hopeful possibility.

It grates against me with every giggle and whisper, but they don’t know war looms on the horizon. Outside of the Crowns and Heirs, no one has been told what Lord Drytas did or what he threatens to do, only that Torryn testified for his judgment.

Despite knowing this, I can’t help but hold their jovial spirits against them.

But the excited energy that has been building the entire week is not just for the upcoming festivities but for today’s War Hour, as Crowns and Heirs take to the battlefield instead.

Even I can’t deny an interest in learning more about what the rulers are capable of, regarded as the most powerful of their court as they are.

Few Trialed use their power in obvious ways, except during War Hour. Whether it’s a strategic decision or just etiquette, I’m unsure. But it leaves me with a vested interest in getting to witness the battles.

When Evander escorts me to the Court of Truth’s viewing box, Lord Gennady is already seated at the window, his ankle propped atop his knee, his cane across his lap. At our entrance, he waves in greeting before returning his gaze to the quickly filling seats of the arena.

I move to join him, but Evander stops me with a hand on my wrist. Looking back at him with furrowed brows, I hesitate in the doorway. “Aren’t we going in?” I ask, scanning for what I must have missed.

Evander gives me a half smile, nodding at my question. “Yes,youare.”

I balk at his words.

Evander doesn’t need to finish for me to understand what he is saying. I don’t know why I hadn’t considered the possibility he might take part in War Hour, but I’m caught off guard.

Shoving my hand in my pockets, I look away from him, letting my gaze linger behind him on the battlefield.

“You’re fighting today.”

Evander nods, nudging me with his shoulder. “I am, but I’ll be just fine. The Court of Change always has healers on standby, especially with Crown battles.”

My stomach knots at the thought of him fighting with the Crowns—or needing a healer at all.

Wrinkling my brows, I nod. “I suppose I should wish you luck, then.”

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