Page 21

A strong arm tackles me to the ground, and in a move straight out of some heroic ballad, Darian’s body lies on top of mine, pressing me to the hard stone floor as his body shields mine.

A symphony of metal clashing erupts above us, where our heads were only a moment ago.

The chamber itself seems to shudder under the onslaught, the echoes bouncing off the walls like a chorus of doom.

I hear the clatter of arrowheads raining down on the stone floor and Darian’s back as his body protects me from the rain of arrows…

And then…

Silence…

“Are you all right?” I gasp, my voice choked with fear.

Did those arrows pierce his back? Is he alive? He remains motionless for a few heart-stopping moments, and then, with a groan, he pushes himself off me and slowly rises to his feet.

“Are you hurt?” I repeat, still sprawled on the cold stone.

“Fine,” he grumbles, wincing as he shifts. “Stay down.”

Darian’s tunic looks torn, and hints of red begin to spoil the fabric. But none of that stops him from gingerly reaching for the golden coins as he scans the room like a hawk, ready to dodge any surprise attacks.

Thankfully, nothing happens as he picks up the coins and pockets them. When he is satisfied that no arrow is coming, he offers me a hand and pulls me to my feet.

We stand back-to-back, and slowly and cautiously, we retreat, our eyes darting around for any sign of danger.

This time, however, no arrows come our way.

Finally, we reach the edge of the chamber and relief floods through me like a cool wave.

Without wasting a moment, Darian grabs my hand again, and we sprint out of the crypt, leaving the darkness and its cruel assault behind.

It isn’t long before we burst through the doors of the keep.

The cool night air hits us like a refreshing splash of water as we dash across the courtyard, and the long table comes into view.

I see Zanyar and Maleed standing there already, their own golden coins gleaming triumphantly in the moonlight.

We aren’t the first .

The sting of that realization is not pleasant, but it is nothing compared to the burning resentment that it was the Ahiras who had bested us. It doesn’t matter, I tell myself fiercely, trying to push down the wave of bitterness. Second place is just as good.

Eager to claim our hard-earned reward, I surge forward, but Darian’s hand suddenly closes around my arm, stopping me short.

“Hold on, Arien. I have to warn the others first.”

He reaches beneath his tunic and pulls out a small, unassuming white seashell dangling from a weathered cord. Three sharp blasts echo through the courtyard, a jarring cacophony from such a small object that makes my ears ring.

“I’ll be back soon,” Darian promises.

But my heart aches for the glory of victory. Darian, poised to run, must have noticed my desperate glance at the long table because he hesitates, and his gaze holds mine. When he speaks, his voice is thick with guilt. “I’m sorry, Arien, but I have to… "

As much as my fingers itch to place those coins on the table, I know that Darian’s loyalty to his fellowship outweighs my personal greed. So, with a heavy heart, I nod and watch him run toward the library, leaving me alone with my turbulent thoughts.

Just as his silhouette merges with the night, Samira and Olanna, the two Jamshahi women I’d seen earlier, emerge from the main keep.

Without breaking their sprint to the table, Olanna unleashes a unique whistle with a practiced flick of her fingers and lips.

It’s a series of low, melodic chirps that reverberate through the courtyard like a language of its own.

Within moments, they reach the table and deposit their coins, securing second place in the trial.

I strain my ears, wondering if those low, piercing notes reached the far end of the keep.

A faint echo answers my question—a chorus of chirps erupts as the closest group relays the message to those further away.

Clever girls. They used discreet sounds as a secret language, spreading the word without slowing down or drawing unwanted attention.

I spot Darian huddled with Bahador and Faelas in front of the library, the first pair of Izadeonians to answer his call. They quickly merge their hands, summoning another shimmering Nohvan.

My heart sinks when I notice that other pairs have emerged from different buildings and witness the summoning. One by one, they follow suit. We’ve inadvertently turned this trial into a guide for the competition!

The wait for the rest of Darian’s fellowship is agonizing.

Each passing moment echoes loudly in my mind.

It feels like I’ve been standing there, frozen, for an eternity.

To make matters worse, Pippin and Kameel sprint past Darian and head straight for the table.

My heart sinks. Now, three groups stand before us.

Anxiety gnaws at me. We still have time, but Darian needs to hustle if we want a decent ranking. To my despair, Alizan and Elranz appear next, their golden coins soon on the table.

Come on, Darian. Hurry up!

My anxiety twists into a knot in my stomach. This is not fair. The Jamshahis only knew about the secret because of us, and now they claim second place while I am still waiting here with my pair far away. Of all the rotten, stinking luck!

Just when I think things can’t get any worse, the gods decide to drop a giant, steaming pile of ‘ not yet’ right on my head.

Out of the servant’s quarters come thundering Kortyz and his equally dimwitted southern Myran mate, Syriad.

Did that overgrown lump of muscle actually solve the puzzle? That seems impossible.

As our hard-won spot on the leaderboard slides further and further down, I can practically feel the frustration radiating off me as I shift my weight nervously, trying to will Darian to come back.

He is now huddled with two more Izadeonians.

But this time, instead of forming their own bond and summoning the Nohvan’s phantom, they split off, sprinting back toward the northern ward, presumably to inform the others.

My heart jumps with anticipation as Darian dashes back to the table and slams down our coins.

Relief floods me in a hot wave. At least we haven’t been completely shut out. We’re the sixth group to finish, adding four points to our score on the leaderboard. I double over, breathing deeply to ease my nerves.

Breath in, Breath out…

Sensing a shadow falling over me, I glance up. Darian stands over me, and his eyes are locked on mine. His expression is serious, but I catch a tremor in his deep, dark blue eyes. Guilt? Worry?

Yes, disappointment burns. But looking at him now, seeing the conflict and conviction warring in his eyes… I get it. For him, loyalty isn’t a choice, it’s an instinct.

Loyalty. It’s a warmth that I’ve only felt the absence of, a connection I’ve never been offered.

Not from my parents, not from my kind. Tonight, though, I saw it live, breathe, and choose despite the consequences.

I saw its true essence, its raw, naked form, in his actions.

Perhaps it’s the same loyalty that drove him to choose me as his partner after our late-night break-in. And for that, I can’t fault him.

My lips curve in a tired smile. “We’re here, Darian. We finished. That’s all that matters.”

The stiffness melts from his posture, and the guarded look is replaced by a wave of open relief, lightening his features.

He opens his mouth to speak, hesitates, then closes it and just nods.

It’s the smile that follows, though—the one that truly reaches his eyes—that sparks a mirroring warmth deep in my chest. A sudden, startling connection forges in silence between two near-strangers.

But the warmth evaporates when Maleed’s sardonic chortle, a cruel, grating sound, cuts through the air. I turn to see him and Kameel standing nearby, their faces twisted into smug, self-satisfied smirks.

The sight of them, the triumph on their faces, makes my stomach churn.

And Zanyar… he gives me a look of pure ice and then turns his back on me, walking away to Alizan and Elranz, who are further away—as if he’s declaring whatever bond we had has been irreparably severed.

And even though we had no bond to speak of, I feel something in me wilt with disappointment.

“Well, well, well,” Maleed drawls. “Look at you two, practically glowing with… incompetence? Not only did you miss out on a decent ranking, bu t you also revealed the whole Nohvan secret to the entire courtyard. Congratulations on creating more competition for yourselves in the next round.”

Darian bristles. “Shouldn’t you be thanking us? What if only a handful had made it through? You’d be doomed to a life of grueling training and mandatory toil for the common good instead of returning to your glorious land of self-importance.”

Maleed scoffs. “Don’t strain yourself worrying about us. Unlike some, we ensured just enough people survived to keep the competition interesting.”

Suddenly, it all falls into place. Zanyar must have reasoned the secret early on, definitely sooner than I did. He likely instructed the rest of the Ahiras to find the Aramisis and southern Myrans and spill the beans before summoning their own golden phantom.

“Yes, we strategize before we run around like headless chickens. That’s what separates Ahiras from common men. Our brilliance.” Kameel says with a smug smirk.

Darian crosses his arms and responds coldly.

“What truly sets you apart is your ego the size of an ox and your loyalty thinner than a priest’s piety at harvest season.

It seems you’ve overlooked your most valuable asset.

” He nods toward me with a subtle shake of his head.

“Though, I suppose some people are too ignorant to recognize true potential.”