Page 10

Keelan chuckles softly, the toe of his boot carving circles into the snow, deep enough to reveal the earth beneath.

The scent of damp soil and earthworms drifts up, mingling with the cold air.

“I’ve wanted this for as long as I can remember.

Most of my life, really. I can’t explain why.

It’s like a calling, if that makes sense? ”

I nod, but my gaze drifts to Talendir in the distance. His pale-violet eyes are sharp, watchful, half-shrouded by heavy lids. Jewelry sways along his face, glinting faintly. I look away just as quickly, refocusing on Keelan.

“And… there’s a woman,” he says, his voice uncertain.

The blood hums hot in my veins, surging straight to my head. “What do you mean?”

“We’re promised, but lately, she’s started to doubt.” He sighs, his eyes wandering up to the tangle of branches above as he sinks deeper against the trunk. “I must prove myself. Make her see I’m the right man for her.”

I let go of the branches, cutting the air with my palm in his direction. “You mean she only cares about status, don’t you?”

“She—”

“That she’d come crawling back the moment you were chosen?” I fix my stare on his uncomprehending eyes and step toward him.

He slides down even farther against the trunk. “No, you know?—”

“Don’t you think it might be about something else?” I thrust a finger toward his chest, stopping just shy of touching him. He’s taller than I am, but now I look down on him.

“I have to?—”

“Something that has nothing to do with you at all?”

“Hey, stop!” He exhales sharply, the shock flashing across his face as he blinks and pushes himself upright so suddenly I’m forced to step back. “Why are you so worked up?”

“I—” What can I even say? “I know her.”

His eyes narrow, thin and sharp as blades, his lashes fanning around them. “You know her?” He looks at me now as if I’m a threat.

“We’re talking about Stara, aren’t we?” I take another step back, widening the gap between us. I can’t let him get too close. Too close, and he might see through me. See my face. See me.

Even as masked as I am, my features hidden and distorted, there’s still a chance he might recognize me. A slim chance. But that’s more than I can risk.

He relaxes, the lines on his forehead smoothing out. “No, not Stara. Iszaelda.”

I laugh, a sharp, hollow sound, sweeping a hand through the air close, but not touching him.

“Oh! Of course!” Another laugh spills out, forced and too loud, as I press a hand to my stomach, steadying the tremor beneath the performance. “Must’ve been my mistake, Kelandil.” Keep laughing. Smile, wide and stiff. Sell it. “It seems like we had a bit of a misunderstanding, didn’t we?”

A tug at his lips. “Yeah, I suppose we did.” He leans back against the tree trunk, casual again.

And I let myself exhale. That was too close. Sweat clings to my skin, sticky and heavy.

“By the way,” he says, a new kind of curiosity creeping into his voice.

I look up, feigning attention, a foolish smile plastered across my lips like an idiot. But now that it’s there, it refuses to go away.

“Do you have any idea how many get selected each sun cycle? Might be good to know.” He cracks his knuckles, and I shudder every time. It sounds like someone snapping chicken bones.

Why don’t you already know this, Keelan? Haven’t you done your homework?

“There are three fixed spots,” I explain, keeping my voice steady, “but the defense can bend the rules if they want and take a fourth. Alternatively, if they find fewer worthy candidates, they can leave the second or third spots unfilled.”

“Is that so?” He drags a hand through his greasy hair as if it weren’t already messy enough, night-green strands sticking out in every direction.

“Nine sun cycles ago, they did just that. Only one elf was chosen—Garalas.” I grimace at the name, a cold shiver prickling down my spine.

“You know your stuff, don’t you? Impressive.”

“My brother is enlisted.” I glance out again toward the snow-laden branches. Talendir is approaching the group of elves, his back straight, like the stem of a dandelion in full bloom.

“Is he?” Keelan perks up, shifting his weight and leaning in with sudden curiosity. “Who? I’m practically kin to everyone in the defense.”

Saxx!

I’ve slipped up again. How do I salvage this? He can’t know the truth. I need one of those weapons. I have to be selected. Without it, I don’t stand a chance against?—

“You are hereby summoned to the Moon Glade for the Silver Day trials,” Talendir announces, his voice cutting through my rising panic, saving me from disaster.

I let out a breath, flashing Keelan an apologetic glance.

Together, we step out from the shadowy embrace of the mountain oak and merge with the larger crowd.

The snowfall greets us, thicker now, its weight pressing down like the day I fled Circle Valley.

The flakes are broad and coarse, as wide as a hand.

They drift through the air like bracket fungi. Milky white, flat, and uneven.

“This sun cycle, you’ll face three trials: strategy, swordsmanship, and the obstacle course.

” Talendir’s movements are deliberate as he gestures from the edge of the group, counting each task on the fingers of his right hand.

“We begin with strategy. A test of individual skill. I’ll present questions to each of you, one by one. ”

He paces slowly, his long robe trailing through the snow, carving faint lines in its pristine surface.

“What kind of questions?” a man with wild, golden hair blurts out.

“You’ll find out when the time comes,” Talendir replies calmly.

“But how?—”

Talendir lifts a hand, cutting him off. His gaze shifts to the silver birch-colored sky. “Later, you’ll face each other in duels, two by two, to prove who’s the most skilled.”

“Eía,” someone mutters, a sharp hiss. “You have no chance.”

“Quela, be quiet. I’m trying to listen.”

“No one can beat me in a duel,” comes the smug retort.

“At last, we come to the obstacle course,” Talendir announces, his head held high as he strides purposefully across the snowy ground.

Crunch. Crunch. Crunch . His hands are clasped neatly behind his back.

“Here, there are no rules, save one. You’re not to kill each other.

Though I trust that much is already understood. Any questions?”

Silence greets him.

A few shuffle in place, boots scuffing softly against the snow. Others exchange eager glances, their eyes alight with anticipation. Keelan stands still, two fingers pressed against his temple, lost in thought.

“Everything crystal clear? Excellent. Then, let’s begin. Eiy vindaninn ‘Krosno dir andah. May the best warrior win.”