Page 59

When we step back into the playhouse, it is as if we’d never left.

The only sign of change is that Maleed and Kameel are sprawled on the floor, utterly unconscious, and Pippin…

well, he looks like he’s stared directly into the face of a Daeva, and his usual quivering anxiety appears to be amplified tenfold.

“They, uh, dropped,” Pippin squeaks at Zanyar, pointing a trembling finger at the slumbering Ahiras. “Right after you… you stepped through.” He adds the last part with a nervous gulp, as if worried Zanyar might blame him for the earth’s pull existing.

Then his gaze lands on Roshana, and you can see any shred of hope shrivel up and die on his face. He’d clearly been betting on her epic failure, dreaming of being laid beside his two floor-decorating friends.

Roshana gives him a look that could kill and wipes her face, probably wishing it was Pippin’s blood she was wiping off.

Olanna, meanwhile, is having an emotional reunion with Samira, squeezing the life out of her. “Knew you could do it,” she shouts. Samira just nods, conveniently omitting the almost-plummeting-to-her-death affair.

The Gajaris, naturally, are already halfway to the door, presumably to make a swift exit.

“Oh, and where do you think you’re going?” Bahador bellows, his voice loud enough to wake the dead, or at least Maleed and Kameel (though I wouldn’t bet on it).

The Gajaris turn with an unimpressed expression. It’s like they’d completely forgotten we existed. Which, knowing them, is entirely possible.

“We came here together,” Bahador continues, undeterred by their icy stares, “faced those lovely gates together, and by the Nine, we’re leaving together. It’s only fair we all share the same rank.”

The Gajaris don’t look thrilled at the prospect. But, surprisingly, they don’t move. Maybe because they know very well that without us, they’d still be wandering around town, mistaking brothels for temples.

“Let’s head back,” Darian says before smiling at me. That smile. The one that always makes my stomach jump its own leap across pillars.

I walk toward him, and we all start ascending the steps to the grand doors when I sense something is amiss. Glancing back, I notice Zanyar is still standing motionless on the stage. His gaze is fixed on me, and his icy green eyes are as unreadable as usual.

Why isn’t he moving? Does he not want to go back? A knot tightens in my stomach. He is my partner. If he chooses not to return to the castle, my victory will turn to ashes, even with all nine coins in our possession.

Darian notices my hesitation and follows my gaze to Zanyar. He turns to him. “Are you going to join us or what?”

Zanyar ignores Darian, his eyes still fixed on me.

Is he having doubts, like Pippin? If he decides to walk away from the trial, I might as well be lying on the floor beside Maleed and Kameel.

But we still have twelve contenders left, which means this isn’t the final trial yet.

He could still falter in the next round, which will probably be the last.

“What’s the holdup, lad?” Bahador grumbles. “You can pitch a tent here if you like, but you’ve got Arien’s coins. We haven’t got all night to wait on you.”

Ignoring Bahador’s grumbling, Zanyar calls out, “Arien. A word.”

Everyone’s heads swivel toward me as I nod and descend the steps to join him on the stage, ignoring the protective frowns of Darian, Bahador, and Faelas burning into my back.

“What’s amiss?” I ask nervously when I stand before him .

He jerks his head to the side and takes a few paces back, ensuring our conversation remains private.

“I cannot return just yet,” he says in a low voice. “There’s a task I must attend to in Shemiran tonight.”

“But… the trial?”

“We have until sunrise. My business will end by midnight, perhaps later. But I will return before dawn.”

I eye him suspiciously, wondering what game he is playing. He must see the doubt in my eye because his face turns dark. “I can give you the coins if you don’t trust me. You can head back with them.”

“We both need to be there to claim victory, not just me and our coins,” I remind him.

“That’s why I’m asking you to give me some time. I’ll be back before dawn.”

“But we’ll be ranked—”

He shakes his head. “We’ll be ranked second. They all seem keen on sharing the first rank. If we come in second, we will only be one point behind them. That would not change our standing in the trials.”

His logic is sound, but the thought of waiting until dawn, not knowing if he’d return, not knowing if I’ve passed the trial, fills me with dread. “What business do you have in Shemiran? Why can’t you do it tomorrow? After we claim victory?”

“Firelands business,” Zanyar answers curtly, about as forthcoming as a Maravanian paying his debts.

Frowning, I cross my arms. “Star-related?”

He only blinks, but his silence is a more deafening admission than any response.

“Thought you weren’t here for the Star,” I quip sarcastically.

He bites the inside of his cheek. “I didn’t come here to fulfill Ahira Emmengar’s mission, but I told him I would so that he would let me come. I can’t show up empty-handed.”

This admission is too rare to be a lie. I want to ask what the real reason is that he came here for, but I hold my tongue.

This is not the right time or place. He is right about our ranking, and if he promises to return, I think I can trust him to keep his word.

I have no idea why, but my gut tells me he is not spinning tales.

“All right, but only if I can come with you,” I bargain, leveling a stern gaze at him and tapping my foot on the floor nervously. “I can’t sit anxiously and wait for you in Jahanwatch till dawn. And you need to promise we’ll be back before the rooster crows.”

After a long stare-off, he finally gives a curt nod. “Fine. But what happens tonight shall not make its way to your Izadeonian mate’s ears.”

Talk about a twist! I started this whole chase to help the Izadeonians, but now I must promise not to reveal the truth I might uncover to them. They are acting like they don’t need my help, so why should I feel guilty about keeping secrets from them?

I shove down the guilt and nod at Zanyar.

I turn back to the others who are watching us with frustration and take a few steps closer. “We’ll join you later,” I announce. “You should go ahead.”

Darian’s face, already set in lines of disapproval, darkens further, transforming into a thunderous scowl. He takes the stairs down, closing the distance between us. “Arien,” he says with a controlled warning in his voice, “what exactly are you doing?”

“There’s something we need to do,” I reply. “It’s Firelands business.”

He reaches the bottom of the stairs, stopping directly in front of me; his height, his presence, deliberately intimidating. His gaze is burning into me. “Firelands? The very place you are so desperate to escape?”

“We’ll be back before dawn,” I assure him.

“How can you trust him?” he demands, his narrowed eyes flicking to Zanyar. “He’s been trying to sabotage you from the start.”

I swallow, and the frustration and the hurt of the past nine days suddenly bubble to the surface. I lift my chin, meeting his gaze directly, my voice hardening. “I know what I’m doing, Darian.”

“Do you?” he challenges, his voice dangerously soft, but the doubt in it cuts deeper than any shout.

A wave of raw anger surges through me. “Yes,” I snap. “I do. I know you don’t think I can handle anything complex. You’ve made that perfectly clear in the last nine days. But I know exactly what I’m capable of, and I don’t need you to make me question myself.”

The color drains from Darian’s face, leaving him ashen. His eyes widen, not with anger, but with shock, with hurt, and with a dawning, horrified realization. He looks like I’ve physically struck him. But I’m beyond caring. I turn to Zanyar. “Let’s go.”

Without a backward glance, I ascend the stairs, leaving Darian standing there, silent and stunned.