Page 89

Ever.

The audience gets louder and louder, making it impossible to think. I grab a yellow piece and move it. My stomach knots. I’ve moved without a solid strategy.

Cheers and applause replace the pleas to move.

My pulse pounds in my ears as I consider my next move. It has to be a green gem. And if I place it on the wrong circle, I lose. In front of everyone.

The viewers grow antsy before long, and without putting any thought into it, I move a green piece. Then a blue one. I barely take the time to breathe before I continue along, going around the board, moving each gem in order. The crowd grows even louder each time I take another turn.

Much to my surprise, I haven’t blocked any of the pieces yet. Each one has two possible moves. The noise makes it hard to think, but somehow just moving them without too much thought is actually working. Each color is getting closer to the other side, and I haven’t blocked any of them.

Before I know it, the blues are all in their places. My breath hitches. I might actually be able to win this. I continue to follow my instincts, moving each gem, one color at a time.

Now the yellows are all in their places! I only have two more colors, and the board is clear of half the pieces. It’s getting closer and closer to the finish.

Next, I place the last green gem in its final home space. Only three pink ones remain on the board, and I quickly move them into place. Though I wait for my dad to say I messed up somehow. That I unknowingly broke a rule and failed the trials already.

Cheers and applause break out, and my dad lifts my arm in victory. “Marra has passed the first part of the first trial!”

Relief washes through me, but it’s short-lived. Dad moves my chair to the next board. It’s a word game. It looks like a mix between Scrabble and a crossword puzzle. He explains the rules. Basically, I have to answer questions and spell them out correctly on the board.

At least I won’t have to rely on strategy with this one. But if I don’t know the answer to even one question, then I’m stuck. And my odds aren’t great considering the majority of my education has come from the surface.

The first questions are about Queen Sirena’s childhood. I answer them quickly thanks to my trips to the secret libraries. She was raised by people who weren’t her parents and she lived away from the castle where her parents ruled. The rest of the questions are all about her and her life, as well. And because our lives are closely tied, I answer based on my own experiences and get them right.

After I complete the last one, the crowd once again erupts in cheers. My dad then congratulates me, then moves me onto the last intellectual challenge. This time, it’s a card game. My father explains it as a game of speed and quick thought.

And he’s my opponent.

I’m not sure why this surprises me, but it makes my insides knot up worse than a bunch of necklaces thrown into a box and shaken up.

He explains the rules and deals the cards. Basically, we have to place a card on top of the discard pile that is either one higher or one lower than what shows on top, and we can’t take more than five seconds. We don’t have to take turns, just get rid of our cards first to win.

It seems like more of chance than skill, but I don’t say anything. I just need to win, and I’ve just won two nearly impossible games, so I see no reason I can’t do this as well. Aside from that, my dad wants me to win these trials. Maybe this one is to give me a break after exhausting my willpower.

Nope. He slams down the first card and then another. And another.

He’s three moves ahead of me. What is he doing?

I push past my mental exhaustion and slam down a card, followed by another. He whacks three more almost before I can comprehend it. I grab one and hit the pile, and just as I do, he discards another. Everything becomes a frenzy of cards, and I can barely think. Just react. Ignore the thousands of shouts and cheers all around us.

We’re both down to one card. Mine is playable. I hit it onto the pile. But so does my dad at the same time.

“What does that mean?” I gasp.

“It’s a draw! Replay!” He gathers the cards, shuffles, and deals.

Every muscle in my body aches from the stress. How am I going to get through all of these mental challenges, plus two more trials?