Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen

Keera

T he ride back to the walls passed quickly, but I wished it hadn’t. The pounding of Daiti’s hooves and the hot wind in my face was a balm to my swirling thoughts after my encounter with the Viper, who haunted my steps, both awake and asleep.

After his dramatic appearance at the opening of the Trials yesterday, rumors had swirled amongst the members of the other clans. They shared stories of his ruthless efficiency as Lord Alasdar’s enforcer with the citizens of Kelvadan, who were all curious about the man who had garnered such a stiff reaction from the queen. Not wanting to spark any interference in the Trials, she had kept the stakes communicated to her by Oren between her close advisors and the ambassadors.

The rumors told about the Viper by other competitors from the clans spanned from unsettling to outrageous: he killed anybody who opposed him without hesitation; he drank the blood of his enemies to gain their strength; nobody who saw his true face lived to tell of it.

I kept silent as I heard the last one. I remembered his face more clearly than I would have expected, considering the brief glimpse I had gotten of it months ago. Perhaps his proud features had seared themselves into my memory as I’d expected them to be the last thing I ever saw. Or perhaps it was his expression—not the one of bloodthirsty rage I would have expected of somebody about to snuff out my life, but an odd smoothing of his brows in something like surprise.

Now I sat back, pressing my sits bones into Daiti’s back to slow him to a walk as we passed into the outskirts of the encampment. It was still quiet compared to last night, with most of the riders out on the hunt; only their families and a few spectators gathered to see who would be bringing back fresh kills.

Most citizens of Kelvadan, and those who had travelled to watch the Trials, were likely still sleeping off the excess laka as the opening celebration had lasted well past midnight.

At the open circle in the middle of the encampment I dropped off my kill in the small pile of oryx and red wolves, alongside the occasional jackrabbit, from those who had returned before me. I glanced around to see if Queen Ginevra or Aderyn were present but found no sign of them.

Aderyn and the queen had disappeared last night as soon as the competitors had finished declaring their intent to participate in the Trials. They had seemed shaken by the appearance of the Viper, although we had known he would come. Perhaps, like me, they found the reality of him in person more foreboding than they had anticipated.

After the volunteers marked my name on their lists with a checkmark, indicating that I would be competing in the next round of the Trials, I joined the spectators for a while, curious how many would be joining me in moving forward.

After a frustratingly short amount of time, my eyes darted to the horizon, where the dark silhouette of a rider approached. I knew from the tall black mount and the feeling in the pit of my stomach that it was the Viper.

It was not as though I had expected him to fail in the first round, but I had hoped he would arrive more than a quarter hour after me, considering I had stolen his first kill. The small amount of hope that had been lit within me, that perhaps he wouldn’t be crowned Champion after all, was dampened by his quick appearance. Before he could enter the encampment, I turned and led Daiti away toward the arched entrance to the city. There was only to be one event today, as the Trials would grow in intensity throughout the weeks, and this was just the first day. I wanted to make sure Daiti was safe in his stall with a bale of arrowgrass before I returned to the encampment to help Neven with his stall for the remainder of the day.

When I arrived at the stables where the Kelvadan riders and their recruits kept their horses, the air was static, most mounts still on the hunt. It wasn’t until Daiti was in his stall, and I was brushing over his coat again, even though it already shone like burnished bronze, just because he seemed so pleased with the sensation, that I heard voices.

The voices were growing in volume, enough that I could now hear them through several walls, as they were coming from the large stall that marked the end of the long, narrow building.

“—dead. He has been for a decade, and I can’t keep watching the horizon, waiting for him to return.”

The first voice was gruff and unyielding where it normally held laughter: Kaius.

“You would give up on our son so easily?”

I almost gasped and threw a hand over my mouth to stifle the sound. The poised tone was unmistakably Queen Ginevra, although I had never heard her mention a child before.

“It’s not giving up to face the truth.”

“You weren’t there. You didn’t hear him. He sounded like Erix. Older, but still Erix.”

There was a pause and a rustle. I leaned closer to the wall of Daiti’s stall, not wanting to miss a word. Part of me nagged that this conversation clearly wasn’t for my ears, but the notion of a son in the royal family intrigued me. After all, didn’t I bear the same burden as their bloodline?

“Do you really remember the sound of his voice?” Kaius’s voice was quieter now, and I strained to hear. “I think I do, but with each passing day, it gets dimmer, as if the sun is bleaching it out of my mind like dye from cloth. The only thing I know I remember anymore is the way he rode a horse, as if he could outrun time itself.”

“He’s still out there. The Viper in the mask—I swear it’s him. Why else would he conceal his face?”

“And even if it is?” Kaius’s voice rose sharply. “Is Lord Alasdar’s snake really our son anymore, even if he wears Erix’s face? He’s not the same person. Not after all they say he’s done. Not after how we failed him.”

My chest tightened, Daiti’s coat blurring before my eyes as I subconsciously leaned on him for support. He tossed his head and pawed the ground, and I stood upright again, my head spinning.

The man in the mask—the one who had delivered me to my doom, only for me to find a new purpose for my survival—was Kaius and Ginevra’s son.

Erix.

It felt odd to give him a name, when for months he had existed as more symbol than man in my head. A faceless figure in black and a nameless threat to Kelvadan. A danger I trained to stand against.

But I had known he was a man under the metal, as I had met those bottomless eyes under the moonlight and felt the warmth of his hand at my throat, sensation heightened by the knowledge that I was about to die. That gaze had visited me in my dreams more times than I cared to admit in the past months, although likely because he was the first person I met after so long in isolation—and because I feared what his victory might mean for Kelvadan.

“Erix,” I mouthed quietly. It felt right to know the name of the person who was the first to know mine, even if the knowledge felt strangely like a weapon.

“We have to try.” Queen Ginevra’s voice came once again, slightly pleading this time. “If we just—"

The stable door slammed open to let the sounds of laughter and carefree joking tumble in. More hunters must have returned. There would be no more eavesdropping on this conversation, although it already had my mind swirling.

I slipped out of the stables, only sparing the other recruits a nod as they bragged about their kills or bemoaned their bad luck at not moving on in the Trials. As I considered the coming weeks of competition, the knowledge of who I truly faced in this competition sat heavy in my belly.

The next day held no competitive events, giving all the visitors to the city their first uninterrupted chance to peruse the stalls of the temporary market. Sitting dumbly in Neven’s stall, barely processing his requests as I folded and moved bolts of cloth, I was glad for the reprieve. My arms were as leaden as the stone of the city wall, and I didn’t think they would be much good with a sword today.

It wasn’t yesterday’s exertion that weighed them down, but the heaviness of my thoughts. Despite knowing I would need my rest for the coming events, sleep had not found me easily last night. Every time I closed my eyes, I snapped them open again, fearing I would find the face of the Viper in my dreams again. His nighttime visits had been disconcerting before, but knowing the man I had been sharing strangely intimate conversations with was the queen’s son left me with an odd hollowness in the pit of my stomach. Anger threatened to fill that hollowness at the thought that the Viper had run away from such a home, only to fight for its destruction and steal away my only hope for belonging.

I had the thought that I needed to come to a decision before facing him again, but I had no idea what that decision might be. I knew I had to face him in the Trials and emerge victorious, no matter who he was under the mask. But the image of him flickered in my mind’s eye when I thought of him now oscillated between a faceless warrior—larger than life with hands soaked in blood—and the man I knew lived underneath, whose mother just wanted to believe he could come home.

“I asked for the blue silk, Keera, and unless the heat is getting to me, that’s red.” Neven gestured to the bundle of fabric in my arms. I looked down to find that he was right.

“Sorry,” I mumbled, hurrying to grab the right bolt of silk.

Neven narrowed his eyes at me, not unkindly, as if he could see through my skin to the whirling thoughts beneath. He opened his mouth, but before he could pry, a familiar voice cut him off.

“Keera!”

I turned to find Hadeon standing in the makeshift road between rows of stalls. He luckily had traded out his snowy furs for a light robe in the style of the clansmen that protected his fair skin from the sun. The tunic he wore underneath remained unlaced at the neck, revealing a smattering of light hair on his sternum.

I found myself smiling, despite my earlier consternation. “How are you finding the Trials?”

His attention set off a fluttering under my sternum, mixed with a healthy dose of hope. Perhaps his warmth toward me was a sign that he could be swayed to Kelvadan’s cause.

“Hot,” he admitted, fanning himself with a rueful smile. “Lyall has decided to remain in the palace and out of the sun unless there are competitive events to watch. My curiosity got the better of me today though, and I had to come see what the clans had to offer. Care to show me around?”

I glanced at Neven, ready to tell Hadeon that I needed to stay and help at the textile stall. However, Neven’s eyebrows were raised with a smile toying at the edge of his lips. “Go ahead and take a break, Keera. You deserve to enjoy the Trials, considering you’re competing in them.”

I nodded in thank you, quickly stepping around the bench laden with textiles to join Hadeon in the dusty thoroughfare. With a friendly grin, he gestured for me to lead the way, and we began strolling down the wide row between vendors. I imagined Neven’s gaze heavy on the back of my neck, but when I glanced behind me, he was helping his next customer already.

“What are these?” Hadeon paused next to a low table laden with handmade jewelry. The violet banner flying from the peak atop the stall marked the vendor as a member of Clan Vecturna, and the allegiance was echoed in their work, much of it bearing the emblem of a hunting dog.

I looked at the object Hadeon pointed at, a large flat circle of silver emblazoned with the snarling face of a dog. The eyes glittered darkly as though with fire from deep within the earth, and as I leaned in to find that the sparkle came from tiny gemstones.

I looked at the stall keeper, who gave me a nod, before picking it up and turning it over in my fingers, revealing a sturdy clasp on the back of the disc.

“It’s meant to clasp your hood in place,” I explained, although I had never worn such an ornament myself. Most clansmen simply tucked the end of their hood over their face to further protect them from the sun, but some wore decorations for special events, or if they were given one as a gift.

“That one is very special,” chimed in the shopkeeper, reaching forward a wizened hand covered in sunspots to tap the engraving. “The eyes are genuine blood glass.”

“Blood glass?” Hadeon echoed curiously, leaning in to get a better look.

As he peered over my shoulder, Hadeon’s hand came to rest on the small of my back, pinky finger just brushing my skin in the gap between my cropped vest and pants. My muscles tensed involuntarily at the touch of bare skin in such an unexpected place, but Hadeon didn’t seem to notice, his eyes glued on the clasp before him. With a steadying breath I managed to release my gripping muscles and return my focus to the conversation. I couldn’t afford to alienate Hadeon by overreacting to his advances when so much rode on gaining his support.

“It’s one of the most valuable materials among the clans, made from the sand of the desert mixed with blood before it is fired. These specific pieces were made using the blood of Clan Vecturna’s very own warlord. They’re harder than diamonds and wearing it the amplifies the desert’s magic and grants her favor,” the shopkeeper explained in a hushed tone, as if she were sharing a great secret with us. “The Champion’s circlet that will be awarded to the victor at the end of the Trials is adorned with several pieces of blood glass, cut into the shape of gems. They are said to have been made from the blood of the first lord to cross the desert.”

I tilted my head, trying to remember stories of blood glass. The lord of Clan Padra had possessed a saber with a piece of blood glass in the hilt when I rode with them. Stories whispered around the fireside during my childhood claimed it had given her the power to defeat the former lord and assume leadership of the clan.

Two planes of blood glass, the largest I had ever seen, also adorned the locked entrance to Alyx’s tomb at the top of the palace.

“They look just like dark rubies to me,” Hadeon commented with a shrug.

“I don’t think I’m in the market for amplified magic right now,” I commented as I put the clasp down .

“What are you in the market for?” Hadeon asked, removing his hand from my back to pick up another bauble and inspect it. The rest of the tension melted from my body, but I found I didn’t feel the sudden relief I normally did when somebody stopped touching me. Perhaps I was finally getting used to the close quarters I now lived in. Or perhaps it was Hadeon’s easy manner that made it hard to feel on edge around him.

“How about a pair of earrings?” Hadeon held up a pair of silver drops beside my face, as if seeing how they would suit me.

I thanked the sun for my already darkened cheeks as blood rose to my face. “I’m not really the jewelry type,” I admitted. “Besides, I haven’t had my ears pierced.”

“Maybe you just haven’t found the right thing yet,” Hadeon continued, undeterred. Next, his fingers landed on an arm band, gold and wrought in the shape of a curling snake. He slipped it onto my left upper arm, nestling it neatly into the divot between my biceps and shoulder muscle.

“I think it suits you,” he commented, admiring his handiwork. “I noticed that gold complimented you well that first night we met.”

I glanced at him curiously. The dinner with the ambassadors had been many weeks ago, and I had nearly forgotten the dusting of gold power across my cheek and lower lip, even though it had taken nearly a week to scrub off all traces of it.

Hadeon seemed unperturbed, turning to the shopkeeper. “How much?”

Before I could balk at the amount of coins the jeweler asked for, Hadeon had produced them from his belt and plunked them into her outstretched hand. I still hadn’t quite mastered the use of coins or how much they were worth, but even I could tell he had just handed over a small fortune to the stall owner. She had likely expected him to haggle, as was the way in the clans, but he turned to me with a broad smile as if he hadn’t nearly been robbed for a shiny, completely unnecessary, trinket.

“Why would you buy it for me?” I asked, right hand coming to rest over the piece of jewelry, already warming to my skin.

“The proper response is thank you ,” he said, already starting to drift toward the next stall and leaving me to trail in his wake. “And as I said before, there is no harm in being on the good side of the Champion of the Desert.”

“I’m not the Champion yet,” I argued as fell into stride with him again. “I’ve only just made it through the first round of competition. Who knows if I’ll even make it through tomorrow’s challenge.”

“I meant to ask you, do you have any idea what the challenge may entail?”

I shook my head. “None of the competitors know. It is supposed to keep the Trials as a fair test of the riders’ skill and the deserts favor if nobody has the chance to prepare.”

“Well, that’s a shame, I should have liked a hint,” Hadeon commented, his tone light although he did sound disappointed. I myself had been pointedly avoiding dwelling on what challenge might face me tomorrow, the competitors only having been told to report to the city gates at dawn. Now my worries returned full force, like a blow to the gut at the reminder.

“What smells so good?” Hadeon asked, looking around and seemingly blind to my sudden consternation.

Raising my head, I caught the whiff of a sticky warm sweetness laced with spices that made my nose twitch. I pointed to a nearby stall, the heat from a clay oven out front making the air dance and shimmer.

We approached curiously, and the sickly-sweet smell became oddly familiar, although the spices added an element I wasn’t accustomed to.

“Stuffed dates?” offered the man working the oven.

Hadeon nodded. “They smell incredible.” He quickly turned over the requested amount of coin for a small stack of the glistening fruits.

He held them out to me in offering as he popped one in his mouth. I automatically reached out to take one, not in the habit of turning down food when it was offered. As I bit into it though, and spices dripped down my fingers to my wrist, I was reminded that I didn’t care for dates. After too many days where they were my sole source of nutrition, I would be all too happy to never see them again.

Hadeon remained blissfully unaware of this and smiled widely before taking another one. “These are incredible.”

I nodded in agreement as I dutifully chewed and swallowed. He would have no way of knowing that I disliked dates. Only once had I told anybody of my aversion, and that had been in a dream.

At that thought, a prickling awareness rose at the back of my neck. I turned around just in time to see the metal mask of the Viper, looking at me from a few stalls away, before he turned and stalked off down the row and out of sight.

I took another date from the offered pile and chewed it furiously, letting the sticky sweetness drive the vulnerability of my nighttime conversations from my head.