Page 48

Chapter

Forty-Seven

No one spoke, but the energy was undeniable, pulsing through the crowd, a shared fear of the unknown.

Every single one of us was wondering the same thing: Will my name be called?

What would happen if it wasn’t?

What would my life look like after today?

For most—the children of court members and esteemed officials—this day would end in reassurance.

A quiet affirmation that they were, as always, exactly where they were supposed to be.

For them, this was merely a formality, a ritual carved into stone before they were even born.

For those of us who didn’t grow up in the protected embrace of the courts, for those of us who clawed our way up from the dust of lesser families, this day was everything.

Everything. It wasn’t just a ceremony.

It was the culmination of every drop of sweat, every moment of sacrifice, every ounce of determination we’d poured into getting here.

My stomach churned with a nauseating mix of anxiety and desperation.

I clenched my fists at my sides, trying to steady myself, but my hands were slick with sweat.

I rubbed my palms against my dress, but it didn’t help.

Magister Illerium, cloaked in his dark robes, moved to the head of the group.

His steps were slow, deliberate, each one echoing with the weight of authority.

The only thing separating us from whatever awaited us inside the chamber was the gargantuan wood doors behind him—doors that, in this moment, felt more like the gates to my destiny.

His cold, sharp eyes scanned the group, and when he spoke, his voice was like the crack of a whip.

“Attention.”

The room fell silent.

Not a whisper, not even a breath, dared to break the quiet.

My heart, which had been hammering wildly in my chest, seemed to stall for a beat.

“We are moments away from the Selection,” he said, his tone measured, void of emotion.

“Following your entry into the chamber behind me, you will be seated in the center of the room until your name is called.”

His words hung heavy in the air, settling on us like a weight.

My skin prickled under their oppressive weight.

For most of us, seeing that room again would mean a life of servitude, of climbing, of endless challenges.

“He never got better at this, did he?” Kadian whispered.

Despite the anxiety clawing at me, I felt the corner of my mouth twitch in response.

Illerium continued, undeterred.

“The Master of Trials will call your name if you have been offered a place.” His eyes flickered over us, assessing, calculating.

“Each court has its own ceremonial rite, which you will perform during the Selection. I will not detail it here, but you will be expected to complete it to secure your induction to the court.”

Ceremony?

Induction? My stomach lurched again, harder this time.

Illerium’s gaze was sharp, warning against any questions.

He offered no further explanation, only stepping aside and nodding to the guards flanking the doors.

With a groan, the doors began to part, the creak of their slow, deliberate opening cutting through the thick silence like a blade.

My heart lodged itself in my throat as the room beyond the doors came into view.

It wasn’t like anything I had seen before.

Nothing in Azmeer compared to this.

Each corner hummed with the essence of a different Court, as though the very walls bore the soul of the Houses they represented.

To the northeast, a towering mass of volcanic rock burned with a molten heat, glowing a deep, fiery red that danced with life.

The sheer force of its heat was palpable, even from here, as if the rock itself was alive, pulsing with untamed power.

Across from it, quartzite walls glowed with a soft, earthy light, tree roots curling and weaving through the stone, their presence a strange and eerie reminder that life—and magic—were woven into the very bones of this place.

I forced my eyes to move further to the other corners of the room.

In the southwestern corner, a waterfall cascaded, its waters pouring into a dark, bottomless pit that swallowed the water whole.

Its sound was a soft, melodic murmur that filled the air.

But it was the corner belonging to the Court of Whispers that sent a shiver down my spine.

It shimmered with an iridescent sheen, the light bending and warping as if the space itself was in constant motion.

And beneath that shimmering surface, a melody, haunted and beautiful, just barely audible.

It beckoned, pulling at something deep inside me, a call I didn’t fully understand but couldn’t ignore.

Beside me, Kadian was pale, his warm skin now drained of color.

The anxiety that clung to me was mirrored in him, only he didn’t hide it as well.

His fingers twisted and his eyes darted from one corner of the room to the next, as though he were trying to memorize every detail.

He’s as worried as I am.

It wasn’t just Kadian.

All of us were on edge, but his situation felt particularly fragile.

The others, those born into their placements, had been groomed for this, prepared for it.

We were outsiders, clawing for a chance to belong.

“We’ll be fine,” I tried to reassure Kadian as much as myself.

But the words felt hollow.

We took our seats in the center of the room, each of us casting nervous glances around.

I tried to focus on the beauty of the space, on the intricate carvings that adorned the walls, the way the light filtered in from unseen windows, casting a soft, ethereal glow.

But my mind kept drifting, my gaze returning to the dais at the front of the room.

The long table that stood before it gleamed under the soft light, polished and immaculate.

And for a brief, fleeting moment, I swore I saw something familiar?—

But my thoughts were interrupted as the officials began to file in.

They moved with an air of authority, their steps deliberate and slow, as though they were savoring the weight of this moment.

The Master of Trials entered, his face a mask of impassivity.

And then, the princes.

Rai entered first, with Lil on his arm.

My chest tightened at the sight of her, though I had been bracing for it.

Lil looked as composed as ever, her expression unreadable, her steps in perfect sync with Rai’s.

I had no idea what her placement had been like—if she had even had one.

Then Dainan.

It was the first time we’d seen each other in weeks, the connection between us sparking to life in a way that made my pulse quicken.

His expression was unreadable, but the intensity in his eyes burned, sending a tremor coursing through me.

But something was wrong.

My stomach dropped as I searched the crowd.

Where was Alvar?

I scanned the back of the room, my eyes darting from one face to the next, but there was no sign of him.

People were filing in now—family members, friends—but Alvar wasn’t among them.

“Good afternoon.” The Master of Trials began.

My back straightened involuntarily, my body responding to the authority in his voice.

“Today marks the end of the Courting. Those who have proven themselves worthy shall reap their rewards—not only a position but the attributes that accompany it.”

Magic.

My heart skipped a beat at the thought.

We had heard whispers, rumors about the kind of magic that would be bestowed upon those chosen by the courts, and when.

But no one knew for sure.

Not even Alvar had shared that information with me.

“Should your name be read, proceed to the table, where you will be provided further instruction.” The Master of Trials’ voice echoed in the chamber, but his words barely registered.

I found myself half-listening, my mind too occupied with scanning the room.

Where is Alvar? Where is Addie?

The absence of both of them gnawed at me, creating an uneasy pit in my stomach.

As much as I'd hoped my father would somehow manage to be here, I knew the journey was too arduous for him.

The Master’s voice cut through again, louder this time as if he sensed the growing tension in the room. “Let us begin.”

Sweat trickled down my back, pooling between my shoulder blades, my hands fidgeting restlessly in my lap. My fingers had taken on a life of their own, tangling and untangling as I wrestled with the anxiety that was threatening to swallow me whole. Just as I was about to lose myself in the spiral of my thoughts, I felt a familiar warmth—a steadying presence. Kadian’s large hands clasped mine.

“We’ve got this, Bri,” he whispered, his voice soft yet sure, just loud enough for me to hear.

I wanted to believe him, to cling to his certainty. But the dream—our dream—of everything we had worked for felt so precariously close, yet still out of reach. We were seconds away from knowing if we had made it, but the uncertainty was suffocating. More than anything, I found myself consumed with worry for Kadian. What would happen to him if his name wasn’t called? Would he go back to Escalia? How would they treat him there, knowing that he had failed? How long would he last without Lil, without the promise of what the Courts offered?

What if he was assigned to a different court altogether? I shuddered at the thought. The lines between the courts were distinct, rigid, and though it had remained ambiguous to us inductees, the separation was undeniable.

They will never break that bond. We will not break. I clenched my teeth and squeezed his hand tighter, a silent vow forming in my mind. We were bound. No court, no ceremony, no decree could change that.

I must have been nodding without realizing it, as Kadian’s gaze softened, his eyes flickering with that quiet, familiar acknowledgment. He leaned in closer, our foreheads pressing together in a moment of solidarity. “I know,” he said quietly, his breath warm against my skin.

I inhaled, trying to steady my nerves just as the first name was called. “Osforth Kadem.”

All heads turned toward Oz, who let out an audible sigh of relief. Oz looked to Kadian, and gave him a slap on the back. “You’ll be next, brother.” With a grin that barely masked his nerves, he stood and made his way to the front of the room.

“He’s never going to let you live it down that he was called first,” Kadian whispered to Tamra, who responded with such an exaggerated eye roll that I found myself stifling a laugh.

The Master of Trials’ voice cut through again, formal and cold. “Osforth Kadem, you have been offered a position in the Eternal Court. Should you accept this offer, proceed to...”

We all leaned forward, trying to see past Oz as he stood before the table, blocking our view. But then it happened—a palpable, almost electric force seemed to radiate through the floor beneath us. I could feel it in my bones, a hum of power that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. Oz turned back to us, his once light-colored eyes now a deep, molten gold.

“Please join your Court,” the Master of Trials instructed.

One down. My heart pounded harder in my chest as I gripped Kadian’s hand tighter, my knuckles turning white. Name after name was called, and I held my breath with each one. The Court of Whispers had gained two new members, the Eternal Court three, the Court of Reflection one, and the Court of Shadows—none.

As I continued scanning the room, my gaze landed on Kadian’s family. They stood near the back, pale and stiff with concern. With each name called, they seemed to grow more pallid, their worry etched into the lines of their faces.

Then, the next name.

“Tamra Kadem.”

Tamra stood, glancing back at us with her usual confident smirk. “I’ll see you guys on the other side,” she said before making her way to the front.

“Tamra Kadem, you have been offered a position in the Eternal Court and the Court of Shadows. Make a decision.”

The room hushed as Tamra hesitated, her eyes darting to Oz and then to her family. We all knew where her heart lay. Despite her love for her family and the weight of their expectations, she had found a certain peace in the Court of Shadows during her placement. And so, she made her choice.

With a decisive nod, Tamra reached for something none of us could see, but the rush of heat through the room told us that she had aligned herself with the Court of Shadows.

My gaze shifted to Oz. He stood frozen, his face expressionless but his eyes rife with disappointment. He had known this would be her choice, but that didn’t make it any easier to watch. Their bond was strong, and now they were being separated—by choice, no less.

As Tamra became the first and only person to stand in the corner illuminated by the living flames, the Master of Trials continued.

“Lilianna Towler.”

An audible groan rose from somewhere in the crowd, and I had to bite my lip to suppress a laugh. I turned to Kadian, whose face remained impassive, but his eyes never left Lil.

“Lilianna Towler, you have been offered a position in the Court of Reflection?—”

Before the Master could even finish the sentence, Lil was already moving, her hand reaching out toward something on the table. A cool sensation washed over the room, and she made her way to her corner, positioning herself as far away from Rai as possible. She caught my eye as she moved, and I was rewarded with a wink—a small gesture, but one that reassured me. Despite everything, despite the trials and the separation, Lil was still in there. She was still fighting.

The names kept coming, each one sending another pulse of anxiety through me. Iona was next, joining Tamra in the Court of Shadows. Tamra didn’t contain her distaste, it only made me love her more. Derek was the next to join their ranks, and I searched the room hoping I would see Emia, but to my disappointment, she was nowhere to be seen.

With each passing name, the group around me grew smaller and smaller. The thrumming of my heartbeat grew louder, drowning out the Master of Trials’ voice.

“Bri,” Kadian whispered.

Did he say something?

“Brida,” he repeated, firmer this time, releasing my hands.

I glanced up at him, catching the unwavering smile etched across his face. “You’ll be next, I know it.”

Before I could respond, he pressed a kiss to the top of my head and strode to the front of the room.

“Kadian Taldot, you have been offered a position in the Court of Shadows.”

Did he just say Court of Shadows?

I fought to remain seated, my mind whirling in disbelief. My eyes darted across the room, searching frantically. Alvar. This had to be Alvar’s doing.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Kadian reached for the object on the table, and the familiar rush of warmth surged through the room. Tamra greeted him with wild enthusiasm.

I sat frozen, my thoughts spiraling back to how I’d ended up here. I wouldn’t be sitting in this room if it weren’t for Marsh. I'd searched for him earlier, hoping to catch a glimpse, but he was nowhere to be found.

I shifted uneasily, glancing from one corner of the room to the next, watching as the numbers in each group grew.

Tamra’s hair had darkened, now almost pitch black.

Kadian, though—his had taken on a reddish hue.

Mom would have loved that.

I could almost hear her voice, imagining what she would say, her eyes twinkling with pride as she saw me now.

I wished she were here.

All this time, despite my late-night trips to the library and every stolen moment spent poring over books, I’d found nothing about her in Azmeer.

Another mystery—one of so many—waiting to be solved.

The Master of Trials was mid-sentence, his voice echoing through the tense silence of the room, when the faint creak of the wooden doors broke through the stillness like a crack in glass.

All at once, the room seemed to shift.

Every head turned in unison, curiosity morphing into silent anticipation.

There, framed in the doorway, stood Alvar.

His figure was solid, familiar, but it wasn’t him who captured my attention—it was who he led inside.

My father.

My breath caught, and for a moment, I was certain my heart stopped altogether.

His arm was looped through Alvar’s for support, but it was him—it was my father, walking, standing.

A wave of disbelief crashed over me, sweeping through the raw edges of my composure.

The world around me blurred at the edges, the weight of the moment pressing against my chest.

I fought the instinct to run to him and throw my arms around his neck.

But I forced myself to stay seated, my fingers gripping the edge of my chair to keep from moving.

I was aware of every fiber of my being, each heartbeat echoing in my ears as I struggled to hold myself in place.

My father—who I feared I might never see again—was here.

And somehow, impossibly, he looked far better than when I’d last seen him, over six long, uncertain months ago.

His presence was an anchor, tethering me to the present, filling me with a fragile, swelling hope.

Alvar moved with the quiet efficiency I had come to expect from him, gently guiding my father toward a chair in the back of the room.

Alvar’s head dipped in acknowledgment to the Master of Trials, but my gaze remained fixed on my father, unable to tear myself away from the sight of him.

“Brida Larrow.”

I rose slowly, feeling the hot tear escape down my cheek.

My eyes locked with Alvar’s, and I mouthed a silent “thank you.” Each step to the front felt heavy, weighted with more than just the decision that lay ahead.

“Brida Larrow, you have been offered a position in the Eternal Court, Court of Whispers and the Court of Shadows. Make your choice.”

The Eternal Court?

I didn’t have time to question it now.

A flutter of appreciation rippled through my chest, soft but insistent, warming me in a way I hadn’t expected.

The Court of Whispers .

Marsh had fought for me.

Despite the distance that had grown between us, despite the unspoken words and unresolved feelings, he had intervened.

But as the warmth settled in, so did the weight of realization.

Gratitude alone wasn’t enough to change what I knew had to be done.

My heart may have softened for a moment, but it wasn’t a reprieve—it was a reminder.

Marsh had helped me, yes, but that didn’t change the course I had set for myself.

I couldn’t allow his influence to sway me from the path I knew I had to follow.

My eyes fell to the table, where four objects lay.

A silver bowl with aquamarine water sat on the far left, shimmering with an otherworldly glow.

The water pulsed gently, as if alive with an ancient power that demanded reverence.

This was the object for the Court of Reflection.

Even from a distance, I felt its pull, a subtle tugging in the recesses of my mind, beckoning me to gaze into its depths, to uncover truths I wasn’t sure I was ready to face.

I swallowed hard, resisting the urge to step closer.

Next to it, a rough-hewn rock jutted from the table, its surface etched with a single rune, bold and unmistakable.

The rune glowed, its lines crisp and deliberate, as though freshly carved by an unseen hand.

The stone hummed with latent energy.

There was something primal about it, something that spoke of ancient rites and powers long buried beneath the surface of the world.

Beside the stone, parchment danced through the air, caught in a swirling current of wind that appeared from nowhere.

The pages moved as though guided by invisible hands.

Words scrawled in ink I couldn’t read flickered across the sheet, vanishing before I could decipher them.

Shifting to keep secret the raw power that the Court of Whispers could summon.

And then there was the dagger.

Its sleek, silver blade gleamed coldly under the dim light, sharp and lethal.

I would have recognized it anywhere—Vasenia’s dagger, the very one Alvar had shown me on my first day.

The intricate hilt, embedded with deep red rubies, looked as deadly as the blade itself, its dark elegance undeniable.

A weapon forged not just for war but for something far more personal.

My eyes fell on the bowl beside it, filled with thick, dark droplets of blood.

The crimson liquid clung to the sides of the vessel, catching the light in a way that made my stomach twist. The metallic tang of blood magic filled the air, faint but unmistakable, its presence a clear signal that whatever ritual this belonged to was steeped in something ancient and forbidden.

I looked toward Dainan.

He sat tense, gripping the arms of his chair so tightly his knuckles had turned white.

I reached for the dagger, its weight cool in my hand.

I pressed the tip to my index finger, watching the blood bead up before it dripped into the bowl below.

I waited, expecting the same warm pulse to fill the room.

Nothing happened.

I glanced around, searching for some sign, some instruction, but was met with blank, unreadable faces.

The room was still. Lowering the dagger, I bowed my head and made my way to Kadian and Tamra, their corner feeling so far away from the others.

The lines between us—between all of us—were so clear now.

I slipped into the familiar warmth of the walls, feeling Kadian’s arms wrap around me.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

My gaze drifted to Alvar, who was deep in conversation with my father as I clung to Kadian, wondering if, in trying to save us, Alvar had condemned us both.