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Leon

G ods, she’s magnificent. Blood-soaked, stubborn, and utterly magnificent.

I’d wanted to kill her myself when I saw she hadn’t taken the opening to leave last night. I’d finally given her what she wanted, offered up her freedom to her on a platter, and she didn’t take it. As I saw her walking into the arena, I couldn’t understand why.

Then she went and threw all my grandfather’s scheming right back into his face.

This brilliant, beautiful woman basically killed that beast and brought it back to life, and now she’s standing there like it was all in a day’s work.

I don’t understand how she did it, but then that just seems to be how things go where Ana is concerned—one mystery to unravel after another.

I’ll admit there were times during the test I was afraid for her.

Not because I doubted her strength, but because I recognized she was up against a fierce enemy.

When the aisthekis got her in its pincers, I broke my chair I squeezed the arms so hard.

I tried to call a halt to the whole thing right at that moment.

Of course, my grandfather wouldn’t hear of it. And then, just like that, things turned around…right up until that final hitch. I’m still not sure what happened, even though I know the business with Velrir ducking a sword has something to do with it.

They lead Ana up to the gallery to speak to my grandfather directly.

When she joins us, I fight the urge to go straight to her.

I already gave too much away in my outbursts during the test. From my grandfather’s calculating glare, he’s well aware that I’m attached to Ana.

I can’t give him more ammunition—not when I know how quickly he could use it against both of us.

I have to stand and watch her wince as she bows to him, her shoulder still red and raw.

“She needs to see a healer,” I say, since no one else sees anything wrong with this picture.

“All in good time, Leonidas,” my grandfather says without looking at me.

I point to one of Velrir’s guards. “You, go get a dryad, and be quick.”

As he obeys, my grandfather gives me a withering stare before turning to speak to Ana.

“Now, it seems you have passed the test, Princess Morgana. Your skills are certainly unusual. Enough that I would agree to proceed with your proposal.”

Relief floods through me.

“I’m pleased to hear it,” Ana says, her eyes flicking to me and then Velrir. I instantly know what she’s thinking and hurry to take my cue.

“What happened when the spider collapsed the second time?” I ask. “Things seemed to be going well until then.”

A rustle of heads turn toward me. The king’s nobles want to know the answer to that too.

“I hesitate to suggest such a thing,” Ana says, playing the part of diplomat well, “but I’m sure I felt the force of terrial magic at work on the aisthekis, some kind of aesteri magic conjuring cold air. I suspect it was an attempt to make me fail the test.”

“A very serious accusation indeed,” my grandfather says, his expression tightening minutely. I can see it clicking into place for the others: the strange setback in Ana’s magic, the sword flying through a crowd to cause distraction.

I clear my throat, ready to sow more chaos.

“Isn’t that your terrial power, Velrir? Cold air?”

If my grandfather’s guard dog could harm me just with the force of his glare, I’d be dead right now.

“It is,” he says. “Though it’s not a unique ability among aesteri.”

“Of course,” I reply lightly.

“Surely you’re not suggesting Velrir had something to do with the sabotage, Leonidas?” Every one of grandfather’s words sounds like a warning.

“I don’t know,” I say. “But we can just ask Alastor here to clarify the truth, and then we can put this whole thing to bed.”

Grandfather’s expression is still locked down, but there’s undeniable coldness in his eyes when he looks at my friend.

He’s always resented that Alastor wanted to stay in my unit rather than join his menagerie of powerful sensic casters.

He covets my friend’s power, but the Gyrions are one of the most influential families in Filusia, and even he’d look bad forcing their son into a post he didn’t want.

“That won’t be necessary,” my grandfather says flatly, looking to Velrir. “Just be honest, Velrir. Did you tamper with the test?”

Velrir’s eyes flick between us, his face coloring. I grin. There’s little I enjoy more than watching him turn beetroot as he squirms.

“It was…an accident, Your Majesty.”

Someone in my unit snorts.

“Is that so,” my grandfather says, deeply unimpressed. There’s a long silence as he seems to weigh exactly how to deal with this. “In that case, you are dismissed for the day, Velrir. We will discuss this later.”

Velrir can only look silently enraged as he sketches a bow and retreats from the gallery. I try to read my grandfather’s expression, but I have no idea whether he was behind Velrir’s plan or whether this was Velrir taking initiative. I suppose I’ll have to see how badly the captain is punished.

A dryad appears in the gallery wing, and I beckon them forward. My grandfather notices, using the moment to skillfully brush the Velrir incident aside.

“Ah, here is your healer, princess. I must suggest you go and rest now. You’ll want to regain your strength before you attempt any more complicated magic.”

He has a point—she should rest and heal before trying to revive Fairon.

“In the meantime, you are an official guest of this court.” He opens his arms wide, as if offering the most generous of invitations, and smiles.

She returns his smile. “Thank you, Your Majesty, that is very kind of you. I wonder, may I ask for one small token as a welcome present?”

My grandfather looks surprised but not displeased. In fact, I think he’s intrigued by her audacity.

“Of course, if it is in my power to give,” he says.

“I would like to keep the korigos used as bait in the trial,” she says.

I glance into the arena, but the animal has already been caged up again and removed, sometime after a pair of geostri coaxed the aisthekis back into its pit.

My grandfather’s eyebrows rise.

“I don’t see why not, my dear princess,” he says.

It’s rare for my grandfather to sound genuine, but he’s also rarely surprised. I think he’s rather enjoying Ana’s unexpected detour.

“Thank you.” She smiles again. “I thought you wouldn’t mind, seeing as you said it was of no use to you anymore.”

“The legends hold that korigos have unusual magic,” my grandfather says.

“They’re meant to share this magic with the one they choose for an owner, but that particular specimen has never shown any willingness to form such a bond, even after we starved it to break its spirit.

I suspect it’s a lost cause, but you’re most welcome to it, if that’s what you want. ”

Something dangerous flashes in Ana’s eyes as my grandfather describes his treatment of the animal. This woman got offended when she thought we were abandoning some horses, so I can imagine exactly what’s going through her mind right now.

“I appreciate it, Your Majesty,” she says mechanically.

My grandfather doesn’t notice her tone, but then he doesn’t know her as well as I do.

“But I must ask why, dear princess. Why do you want such a thing?”

She shrugs, then winces, having obviously forgotten about her shoulder.

“I would just like a reminder of my victory, Your Majesty. Of the day I beat a powerful monster trying to take me down.”

Her face tells us all she’s not talking about the aisthekis.

“Nice to see that you get windows.”

Ana walks a circuit around my private parlor, examining the views across the grounds.

“I’ll make sure you’re moved from the secured guest rooms. There’s no reason for my grandfather to keep you there now,” I say.

It had been a pain finding her last night, let alone getting the key to her without any of us going near the barracks.

Luckily, Damia’s little snake Barb is pretty smart and has a great sense of smell.

Ana makes a noise of agreement, but she doesn’t look at me. I notice her shoulders are held stiffly, tension knotting them.

“How’s your shoulder?” I ask.

“Fine. The healer did a good job,” she says flatly.

The silence stretches between us. Things are…

awkward. I don’t like it, especially after we worked together so well to wrong-foot Velrir.

I want her to talk to me, at least to look at me.

There’s something tortuous about her refusal to engage.

I’ve come to rely too much on the rush I get from those hazel eyes locked on mine.

She probably knows that, which is why she’s making me suffer now.

“Are you ever going to tell me how you worked it out?” My question comes out more like a demand, my frustration getting the better of me.

“What do you mean?” She doesn’t look away from the window.

“When we arrived, you still hadn’t managed to revive a celestial flame, and then you turn up in that arena and heal that creature like you’ve been doing it all your life. Was that just a fluke?”

“I wouldn’t have taken the test if I hadn’t known I could do it,” she says, her voice a little hard. “I figured it out last night, thanks to that poor animal your grandfather’s been torturing. The korigos. I found it in the barracks and…I don’t know…I just trusted myself.”

She trails off, the memory shaking something loose in her. At last, she turns around, though the eye contact isn’t much comfort when I can see the unusual coldness of her eyes and the way her lips are pulled into a thin line.

“But I’m not interested in rehashing the test,” she says. “Not when you still owe me an explanation for not telling me you’re engaged.”

She throws the last word at me like a curse, and I resist the urge to flinch. So this is the reason for her stonewalling me. I suppose it should’ve occurred to me before, but I’m not used to worrying about whether I piss other people off. That only seems to matter where she’s concerned.