Page 30
CHAPTER THIRTY
S IL’ABAR SWAYED HIGH ABOVE US , its golden leaves almost dusty under the gray skies of the morning. The Elders had held their vote at first light, and a crowd was now waiting to hear who would be named as candidates and who would not.
My stomach knotted. Fyrel and Gerarda paced beside me, silent and anxious. My hands were damp as I rubbed them against my thighs.
I had never presided over a Trial as Blade. I had refused, leaving such displeasures to Hildegard to contend with. But now I understood the true weight of what she had done. None of the Halflings circling the giant Elder birch were going to die today, but their fates would be decided for them.
I wouldn’t bestow a hood upon their head, but I would change some of their lives—and likely not for the better. What if I did something wrong and their gifts were left fractured like Riven’s had been, afflicted with a pain that would never subside for the rest of their lives? And for those whose gifts settled as well as Gwyn’s had, they would have the weight of the war on their shoulders.
Feron was the first to exit Sil’abar. His steps were slow, but the crowd didn’t dare make a sound. The clack of his cane marked a count as he grew closer. Behind him, Darythir looped her arm through Syrra’s as she pushed Myrrah’s chair. Rheih followed after them, hands stuffed in the pockets of her smock.
Each of the five Elders held their mouths in a straight line. A small orb of water floated by Feron’s mouth and another soared above the crowd ready to hear their decision.
“After much deliberation, my fellow Elders and I have reached a consensus.” He lifted his arm and a thick root shot from the ground making a curved seat for him to lean on as he spoke. “We will nominate four Halflings to be bestowed with gifts from the niinokwenar .”
The crowd broke into a chorus of gasps and outraged shouts. My chest eased as I looked around. I would only be marking four for death out of hundreds. Still four more than I wanted, but the Elders had balanced the scales to a sum I could live with.
Feron lifted his hand and the crowd fell silent. “While it is tempting to turn any willing Halfling, our resources to train new magic wielders are too limited. Restricting the number to four will ensure that we do not spread our resources too thin training the new Fae and those already bestowed with gifts.” His eyes drifted over the crowd to find Gwyn, Vrail, and Crison huddled together.
Darythir stepped forward with a piece of parchment in her hand. Feron created a podium for her with a simple wave of his hand. She addressed the crowd, and Feron used his projected voice to interpret for her.
“This was not an easy choice, but it is a choice that each one of us stands by.” Her wrinkled eyes were sharp as she stared down the first line of the crowd. “As these new Fae will be key soldiers in the battles to come, we have chosen to select our candidates from the Halflings who have already received extensive training on self-control, combat, and self-defense.”
A low murmur echoed through the crowd as the Halflings who had been rescued from the kingdom realized they would not be chosen.
They were picking from the Shades.
My mouth went dry as Darythir continued. “To make it clear, we do not make these decisions lightly”—she glanced at me—“the first candidate to be selected is one of the Elders.” Darythir bowed her head, and Myrrah thrust herself forward from their line. The crowd clapped and nodded in approval at the first choice.
Gerarda straightened her back beside me, her hands twisting into knots behind it.
But Darythir did not name her. “The second candidate we have selected is Elaran.”
Darythir waved her hand in our direction. Elaran squeezed Gerarda’s shoulder before stepping apart from the crowd. She lifted a hand to her face and then her chest before kneeling in front of the Elders.
“I am honored to be chosen,” she said in her raspy tone. “I will not disappoint.”
Gerarda’s teeth gritted together as she lifted her chin. I could see the worry creeping along the corners of her eyes. Concern for her lover and concern for herself—there were only two nominations left.
Darythir took a deep breath before continuing. “The third candidate was not selected for her prowess with a blade but her sharp wit and dedication to the Elverin within the Faelinth and outside of it.” She paused and smiled at someone in the front row. “Dynara.”
I gasped along with the crowd as Dynara stepped forward. She was wearing a long gown cinched at the waist by a bodice made of pearls. But her face was stern, determined as she bowed to the Elders and accepted her post. “Thank you for granting me this honor.”
My chest heated. Dynara had not said anything about her decision to add her name to the list of volunteers. And I had jumped at the opportunity to ignore it, knowing I would say the wrong thing and foolishly believing the Elders would never choose her as a candidate.
Gerarda’s fist pulsed beside me in sets of four. She only let herself inhale after one set, pulsing again before finally exhaling. A breathing tactic we had been taught at the Order.
I grabbed her hand and squeezed it. There was no one else they would nominate. Her spot had always been secure.
Darythir met my gaze before glancing at the short, determined Halfling beside me. “The final nomination,” she signed with shaking hands, “was long discussed but the decision was ultimately unanimous.”
My shoulders relaxed, and I patted Gerarda on the back.
“The Elders have selected Fyrel.”
Gwyn jumped up onto Fyrel’s back with excitement and pressed a kiss to her cheek. The young Halfling stumbled backward, dazed, as the crowd erupted into applause. Gwyn let her go and claim her place in front of the Elders, but I didn’t hear a word she said to them. All I saw was Gerarda’s black cloak disappearing through the crowd without a sound.
Table of Contents
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- Page 30 (Reading here)
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