Chapter 57

Chapter Fifty-Seven

A elia

Sitting on the edge of my bed, I tugged on the bodysuit that had magically appeared in my armoire this morning. The material was crafted from luminous, silver-threaded fabric that glinted subtly beneath the rays streaming in through the skylight. The suit was like nothing I’d ever seen before, lightweight yet resilient, designed to protect against the harsh elements and the rigors of high-altitude winds. Along with it, I’d found an armored vest made from some mystical alloy that was as strong as steel but felt as light as feathers, as well as a set of bracers and greaves with shimmering runes.

Rue sat across the room with her back to me, examining her new suit and all the accouterments that came with it. A ripple of nerves made my movements shaky and agitated as I strapped on each piece. The final Umbral Trial was here. As if that weren’t enough to scatter my nerves, the fight with Sol had my insides in a terrible tangle.

I’d never quarreled with my bonded skyrider before, and it was nearly worse than my fights with Reign. Those shimmering mystical strands that linked us were dim, and an impenetrable wall had been erected between us, severing our connection. It felt as if one of my arms had been cut off.

A sharp gasp from across the room tore me from my dark musings. I jumped up, spun around, and nearly tripped over my own feet, forgetting my suit was only a quarter of the way up. Pulling the light material up the rest of the way, I rushed over to Rue’s side of the chamber. She sat on the edge of her bed, now fully dressed, staring at a scrap of parchment.

“What is it?” I asked as I folded down beside her.

“A letter from Heaton.”

I expected delight in her eyes, or at least relief, but I saw neither. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know.” She frowned, staring at the dark scrawling across the yellowing page. “It just doesn’t sound like Heaton at all. It’s so formal, so bland.” She handed me the scroll. “Take a look for yourself.”

Dear Rue,

The situation on the border is worse than expected. The enemy is looming ever closer, so you must prepare for what is to come. I am safe with my unit and pray to Raysa I will remain that way. Rest assured, I will return before the end of the term.

I hope all is well with you.

In Raysa’s blessed light,

Your brother, Heaton

I read over the message twice, searching for a hint of the team leader, the loyal friend or the doting older brother. Rue was right; it didn’t sound like Heaton at all.

“He didn’t even mention Lawson,” she added. “How could he not? He was all we talked about before he left.”

“Can you send a letter back?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know how. I have no idea how the letter appeared on my nightstand. It was just suddenly… there.”

“We’ll ask Reign after the trial. Maybe he can get a message to Heaton through his shadows.”

My best friend’s pale blue eyes lit up; that spark that had recently returned fading with the arrival of the letter. Somehow, it found its way to the surface once more. “Do you think he would do that for me?”

“Absolutely.” I would make sure of it.

She threw her arms around my neck and pulled me into a hug. “Thank you, A. I’m just so worried about him.”

“I know you are. I am, too, but Heaton is strong and capable. He’ll get through this and be back at the Conservatory before we know it. I’m sure of it.”

“Yes, you’re right. There are only a few days left.”

“Exactly.” I nodded aggressively then tugged her off the bed. “Now, we have a final trial to get to.”

The brilliant sun streamed down on my shoulders through the new bodysuit as Rue and I marched toward the flight field. Even at this distance, I easily found Sol standing amidst the line of skyriders. His glistening golden form towered over all the others, standing proudly, his snout tipped toward the endless blue.

I searched our bond for any sign of him, but it was quiet.

How was I expected to pass this trial if he refused to speak to me? Not that I was in any particular mood to be all chatty with him either. His words yesterday stung, and what was worse, knowing he was still keeping something important from me was the ultimate slap in the face.

The crunch of grass from behind registered an instant before Symon swung one arm around me and the other across Rue’s shoulders, squeezing his way between us. “Good morning, ladies! Who’s ready for the big day?”

We both grumbled in response.

“Good gods, what is the matter now?” His worried gaze bounced between each of us.

“It’s Heaton,” Rue murmured.

“And Sol,” I added.

His cheery smile evaporated. “Do I even want to know?”

“Heaton’s okay, for now, and he promises to return for the end of the term. There was just something about his letter that seemed off.” She waved a dismissive hand. “Something to deal with after the trial.”

He swung his head in my direction. “And Sol?”

“We’re not speaking.” I had already filled Rue in on some of the details of our argument the night before without going into the specifics. I hated to continuously lie to my best friend, and I vowed that once we survived this term, I would talk to Reign about telling her the truth. Maybe not all of it, as the last thing I wanted was to paint a target on her back, but at least some.

“What, why?” he asked.

“Basically, he doesn’t approve of Reign,” Rue replied for me. Which was much simpler than the lengthy answer I’d conjured up.

Symon released a dramatic sigh before squeezing us into a Fae sandwich. “Oh, ladies, after this trial is over, we’ll sort everything out over a full tankard of lager.”

I couldn’t help the chuckle from spilling out. Of course, Sy would find an easy answer to our trivial little problems.

“Sol will get over it because he’s not going to risk your life up there.” His eyes ticked to the sky before turning to Rue. “And Heaton will return as he promised; and if he doesn’t, we’ll simply go find him.” He offered us each an indulgent smile before releasing us. “Now, get your head in the game so that we can win the final trial and avoid spending our week of respite at Arcanum.”

My heart leapt up my throat. “That’s the punishment for the losing team?”

Symon nodded. “That’s what I’ve heard.”

We had yet to be told much of anything about the final trial. With Heaton absent, no one had shared any details. After last term’s ambush by Arcanum, we had all been on high alert last night. Reign had spent all night on our doorstep, despite my urging to come inside. He had insisted he would be unable to remain in the same room as me all night without acting upon the cuorem bond’s primal urges.

Just the thought sent a delicious shudder up my spine. Besides the obvious reasons for wanting to succeed in the final trial, I couldn’t wait for the term to be over so Reign and I could finally complete the bond and enjoy a few uninterrupted days together.

The steady rumble of voices drew me from more pleasant thoughts to the present. Dozens of initiates littered the clearing, making their way toward their skyriders. I had been dreading this moment since I walked off the field yesterday.

On the far corner, a dais had been erected with a billowing white canopy. Beneath it stood the distinguished faculty of the Conservatory, Reign included, along with a special guest. A shimmering golden orb encased the platform, powerful rais pulsating in the air. A troop of Royal Guardians surrounded the stand where King Elian sat atop a high-backed chair. Draven stood beside him, his trailing, snowy mustache twisted in disdain.

I wondered what had our headmaster in a huff.

In answer to my unspoken question, a wave of pure night blotted out the shimmering sunlight. The horde of Shadow Fae descended in a surge of nox , sucking all the light from the midday sun. Among the crowd, blanketed in hissing shadows, stood none other than King Tenebris.

My gaze shot across the field to Reign, where I instinctively knew he stood along the dais. His dark eyes chased to mine, and even from this distance, I could feel his entire body stiffen at his father’s presence.

Drawing in a steadying breath, I forced my gaze away before curious eyes followed my line of sight. Because I could already feel him too. Ruhl appeared from within the cloud of sheer darkness, his contemptuous glare heavy on me.

My heart revolted at the sight of him, an erratic thumping against my ribs. This was the first I’d seen him since the night of the bacchanalia. My thoughts flew back to the false alarm and that slate dragon flying in the distance. Why would Ruhl have set off the wards? If he’d intended to strike, had he changed his mind? Or was it something else entirely?

Not for the first time, I contemplated what Reign had told me about the cuorem bond and the blood attraction. I should have been relieved to know that the tangle of emotions Ruhl brought out in me were mystically explainable, but instead, I only felt more confused.

That powerful force of nox sifted over my skin as Ruhl’s intense gaze bored into me. I refused to meet it, refused to face what I knew I would find. It would not only be anger there, but something else. Something far more frightening.

I had yet to speak my most terrible fears out loud, but what if Ruhl and I were meant to be cuoré, and the bond was confused about Reign? The thought alone felt traitorous, but I couldn’t deny its existence. When fate was pulling all the strings, how could one truly be sure of anything?

No, it couldn’t be… what I felt for Reign was more powerful, more visceral than any mistake. Gods, I simply wanted to complete the bond so that we could finally truly be together. There was nothing I wanted more.

“Welcome, Light and Shadow Fae initiates to the final Umbral Trial,” Draven’s voice boomed across the field.

I pivoted my gaze only to be caught in Ruhl’s dark one. Those icy obsidian orbs drilled into mine from across the divide of Light and Shadow Fae students. The faintest twitch of his lips trapped my attention. “Good luck, duskling,” he mouthed.

Forcing my lips to stretch into a smile, I nodded. “Same to you,” I replied soundlessly.

“For today’s final trial, each Light Fae squad will be pitted against a Shadow Fae team. Therefore, unlike the last Aerial Combat, one academy will not be the overall winner, but rather it will depend on each individual squad.”

Malakar nudged Draven in the side and interjected, “Unless, of course, there is a clean sweep by either side.” A wicked gleam lit up his dark eyes.

Ignoring the Shadow Fae headmaster, Draven cleared his throat and continued. “Points will be awarded based on time remaining in mid-air, and of course, the final initiate and skyrider flying from each team wins, earning a bonus one hundred points for their squad. As always, you must remain within the aerial boundaries, but besides that, anything goes. Does everyone understand?”

Muttered yeses rolled through the crowd.

“And now, the team pairings.”

A whisper of unease crept up my spine as Malakar produced a scroll from the dark depths of his robe. My eyes flickered to Ruhl’s as the headmaster slowly unrolled the parchment. Oh gods, please tell me he didn’t. I shot the Shadow heir a questioning glance, the unspoken words caught in my throat. His barely perceptible nod a long second later stole the air from my lungs.

I should not have been surprised. I wasn’t, not truly.

A terrifying smile jerked up the corners of Malakar’s lips as he read from the scroll. “The first squads up are Flare team from the Conservatory of Luce, and Midnight Squad from Arcanum Citadel.”