Chapter 1

Every generation of pipers must face the challenge. A rite of passage, the challenge can take many forms depending on the location of the pipers, however, it typically takes the form of a very large cliff, a death-defying challenge, and six bowls at the end. Those bowls hold their future, as it has held the future of all pipers before them.

--The History of Pipers; A.A. Wesen

The ceremony is a lie. Or at least, that's what it feels like as I watch Finley run through her own piper challenge. It's a long-standing tradition. Every piper must go through the ceremony if they want to earn their pipe. There are no rules about how many times you can go through the trial. A piper is a piper as long as he finishes at some point. No, the real problem doesn't come from the test. It comes from those around you. Your friends.

Your family.

I come from a long line of pipers. It's in my blood just as it's in my sister's, just as it's in my older brother's. We're destined to be great like my father was, like my mother was. It's expected of us from birth. The way we repay our debt of being born is to bring something valuable to our family name. And if we don't, well, we'll know that shame well. We'll wear it around our shoulders for all to see, and our father will remind us of it. Every. Single. Day.

As the youngest of three, I'll be the last to complete the test, and this year is not my year. I'm not old enough. My father would argue I'm simply not strong enough, but it's unheard of to complete the challenge before your twentieth year. This year is Finley's year, and my sister has always been promising according to father. Not as promising as Finnian was, though. Finnian is Dad's favorite. We all know that. We all know we'll never measure up to him, not unless we, too, are named a war piper.

Some part of me revolts against that.

I don't want to be a war piper, but I know it'll make my life much easier. Finley wants it as badly as the air she breathes. Finnian has already achieved it and follows in our father's footsteps. He's now a very sought after war piper from the extensive line of Bonaventure pipers. My father's line has always had a war piper in each generation. At least one. Finnian is the first. Father is hoping Finley is the second. Mother hopes. . . I don't know what she hopes. She has no opinion outside what Father wants.

I watch Finley scale the cliff, her fingers curling into the stone and leaving behind blood marks as her nails crack. She's done this climb a million times, but she must be clutching the stone too hard today in her anxiety. We've never been close, but part of me hopes she gets the pipe she wants. Part of me wants her to win. She's my sister, even if she's always been one of my bullies.

I'm the runt, the one without promise. No matter that fact I have yet to complete my challenge, they don't think I'll get anything other than a comedy piper. There are six distinct types of pipers, and a comedy piper is fated to be no more than a court jester. It's still a powerful position among regular people, but not among pipers. It's considered the worst piper to be, the weakest. And Bonaventure pipers are never comedy pipers. Father thinks I'll be the first, a shame I carry with me despite not knowing yet, despite not knowing for a few more years.

Not even my family thinks much of me despite not yet having a chance. The townspeople, I can understand, but my own family?

Part of me wants Finley to get everything she wants. But the other part, the savage part of me, wants her to get the comedy piper so I'm not the first. At least we'll both be shameful together.

At the top of the cliff, there will be six large stone bowls, one for each type of piper. War, Greed, Eros, Comedy, Botanical, and Chaos. Each has their strengths. Each has their own weaknesses. A war piper makes soldiers fight harder, more brutal, but it comes at a great cost of life. A greed piper can make kings rich, but it makes his kingdom starve, a trade off most kings are happy to make. Eros pipers can make anyone fall in love, but a child born from this union will struggle to find love wherever he goes. They each carry shames. They each carry pride. But one carries nothing but mystery.

When Finley reaches the top, the chaos bowl won't even be lit. There hasn't been a chaos piper in centuries, so they don't even bother anymore. With so long in between pipers being chosen, hardly anyone knows anything about chaos pipers. I don't, and I know my father doesn't, or else he'd brag and demand we all be that. Thankfully, we don't have such lofty demands. It's better to ignore ignorance than admit to it.

I still have two years before my challenge, until I'll have to face this very same cliff. Part of me dreads it. Right now, my fate is only a guess, something they can't truly punish me for. In two years though, I'll be forced to complete the challenge and face what I must become. Who decides these fates? What beast forces us to go through this torture? Why must my fate be anything but my own?

"Are you watching, Fenwick?" Finnian sneers. "You need to watch how it's done if you're going to stand a chance."

"I know how to climb," I grumble to my brother. He's such a pompous asshole, but at least he took time away from his busy war schedule to be here to cheer Finley on. He could have claimed he was too busy, just as Father has always done with anything important to us. The only thing he always shows up for is the challenge, because that falls back on him. Our fate is his fate. Our success is his success.

I may not be close to Finley, but Finnian is. They can't be close to me. Father would never allow it. I'm the runt, the weakling, and so I just wait around for my own fate. Being a Bonaventure is supposed to be an honor, but it only feels like a curse to me. What I wouldn't give to be anyone else, to hold any other last name. What I wouldn't give to be born to some other family, a normal one, one that wouldn't look at me with shame before I've even done anything shameful.

"She's made it to the top," Father comments, his voice emotionless. He'll never express pride, but we'll know if he feels it. Unfortunately for us, he doesn't get pride from us. He sees it as his accomplishment, not our own. Even Finnian doesn't get to relish in his success too much. Each war he wins is Father's success, not his. Each king that requests him is an honor for Father not him. It's a miserable way to live, and though Finnian and Finley won't admit it, I will. I hate being a part of this family and I long for nothing more than to be swept away from it.

The five bowls dance with their flames as Finley steps up to them. She's panting, exhausted from her climb, and she'll be even more so when she has to climb back down. There's no easy way off the cliff. Your best hope is that you still have energy left after your challenge to get all the way back to the ground. In years past, there have been pipers who made it to the top, received their pipe, and then slipped on their way down. They never make it. The rocks at the bottom are sharp on purpose.

"I can't see," I murmur, standing on my tiptoes. "Which end is she starting on?"

"On war, idiot," Finnian hisses. "Of course."

"Of course," I grunt mockingly, dropping back to my feet. It doesn't matter what Finley gets. It won't change my fate. I'm to be the punching bag for my family and nothing more.

I'm tempted to leave now, but I'll be punished for it, so I stay and watch my sister sell her soul to our father.

She holds her hand over the war goblet, her eyes glittering dangerously. Only I seem to see the shaking of her hand, the way her breaths come out like thunderclaps. One second, two seconds, and then the flame goes out.

Not a war piper.

Father curses under his breath and the tension in his shoulder eases. It doesn't matter what Finley gets now. All other options aren't good enough for Father. She hovers her hand over the second best option, greed. Greed pipers work in gold and money and are pretty powerful, the third most powerful of the types. They hold no loyalty to any king, and can be bought for a fair price, but other pipers see them as wasteful power. If Finley is a greed piper, she'll be powerful, but Father will never let her forget it. Still, it's a better option than the others.

Her hand hangs over the bowl for long seconds, and just when I think she's not a greed piper either, the flames rise and wrap around her hand.

I sigh. Greed piper. Finley is a greed piper, which means she'll still be respected, and I'll be left to take the brunt of the shame. Especially if I'm not at least a greed piper like her.

Father sniffs. "Better than I'd hoped for," he growls before turning away, not even bothering to wait for Finley to come down. Finnian will wait in his place, his pride shining for his sister where our father wears none. Something tells me they knew she wouldn't be war. Something tells me they're okay with it even if Father doesn't approve. He'd hoped to have a family of war pipers. We've shattered his dream. Poor Mother will take the brunt of his anger later. It's best we don't go back home for a while, so I stay to watch her descent, too.

It takes Finley twice as long to get back down as it took her to climb up because of how weak her arms are. She has to stop frequently to catch her breath. Finnian and I wait patiently, not speaking or touching, a few feet apart from each other. Finnian can't be seen associating with me too much. As if weakness is catching.

"You did it," Finnian says when Finley finally drops to the ground before us. "Welcome to the club, greed piper."

Finley blows out a puff of air and grins. "Not what Father wants, but it's good enough for me. At least I'll be surrounded by gold."

Finnian claps her on the shoulder. "You'll have a bed of gold and hoard it like a dragon. I just know it."

Finley's eyes fall on where I wait and her smile droops. "What do you want, Fen-dick?"

Her rude nickname makes me angry, but I only straighten and refuse to acknowledge it. Fenwick is a nice enough name, but it's too easily the butt of a joke. I'd change it if I could.

"I wanted to congratulate you," I answer, watching her carefully. "You did good."

"As if I care about your feelings," Finley growls, shaking her head. "What are you even doing here? Didn't Father tell you to clean the house?"

I tilt my head. "I already did before your challenge. But thanks for your concern."

"It's not concern," she growls. "I was looking forward to him whipping you." She loops her arm through Finnian's. "Come on, big brother. Let's go test out my pipe."

I watch them go, remaining where I stand. She'll likely rob someone of all their gold, but no one will dare say a word to Finley Bonaventure. No one will tell her she can't do that, and Finnian will encourage it. Powerful pipers answer to no one but their fathers.

And our father is reason enough to flex our powers once we have them.

At least the townspeople aren't rude to me for fear of what I'll become. At least I can go into town and enjoy an evening watching the puppet show and drinking some ale.

At least for an evening, I can forget I'm a Bonaventure. Even if it's only for a few hours.