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Chapter 14

Nora

It was time.

Mercy Holtzfall had taken her position at the edge of the woods as the last of the daylight ebbed from the sky around the mansion. Cameras took aim expectantly.

Everything else dropped away.

Nora’s heart felt like a bird trying to escape its cage as the crowd moved around her, seeming to both part for her and surround her. Modesty glided through to Nora’s left. And there, to her right, were Constance and Clemency. They clasped hands as they approached, born allies against Nora.

Being an only child was meant to protect Nora.

Her mother hadn’t wanted this for her. And so long as she was the only heir of Verity Holtzfall, there wouldn’t be a trial. She wouldn’t have to experience the grief of losing a brother to the trials. Like Verity had lost her brother Valor. She would never have siblings turn against her. Like her Uncle Prosper and Aunt Patience had curdled against her mother.

An only child was, by default, the most virtuous.

As well as the least.

Until last week, Nora had never questioned if she was virtuous enough.

Well, she thought, as all four of them broke through to the front of the crowd, they would find out soon enough.

A hush fell over the garden as the girls lined up in front of their grandmother. Mercy Holtzfall cast a long, considered look over her grandchildren before turning toward the trees. She was holding the ax in her hand. It looked more at home out here, on the edge of the ancient woods, than it had buried in the breakfast table this morning.

The border between mortals and immortals had been drawn more firmly across centuries.

First by Honor Holtzfall wielding his ax. Then by his descendants. All to protect humans from the things that lurked in the woods. And then, as mortals grew more powerful, instead of fearing what lived in the woods, they had gone looking for it. Emboldened by charms and new weapons, people went seeking favors from immortals, like the one granted to Honor Holtzfall. Men returned with branches of immortal trees as trophies, women sought to seduce spirits into giving them half-immortal children like the ones who roamed the desert kingdoms.

Finally, just over a century ago, the spirits of the wood drew their own border in return. Overnight, no one could pass into the woods anymore. The boundary worked both ways now. Immortals couldn’t come into the city to prey on humans. And humans couldn’t pass into the woods to seek out magic. Every now and then, there was a rumor that a lost child had stumbled into the woods. Or someone might disappear and reappear decades later, looking as young as the day they’d vanished, babbling about the things they had seen. But those were only rumors.

As far as Nora knew, the woods were impenetrable.

When they were young, the Holtzfall grandchildren had tried running toward the trees as fast as they could, only to find themselves running in the opposite direction, back toward the mansion. Or sometimes they would just walk toward the trees for ages, only to find that the woods weren’t getting any nearer.

The woods were closed to all but those deemed worthy to enter.

The Veritaz Trials were their chance to show they were worthy.

There would be four trials, one for each competitor. Each came with the chance to win a ring granted by the Huldrekall. At dawn, thirteen days from tonight, only those competitors who had won rings would be allowed to enter the woods and hunt for the ax.

There was a long moment of silence, punctuated by the occasional click of a camera shutter. And then, slowly, the darkness at the line of trees shifted. It happened so imperceptibly at first that it seemed as though the branches were just quivering in some imaginary wind, or maybe with the collective intake of breath from the crowd. And then a figure emerged from the dark. Except it seemed to Nora as if maybe he’d always been there at the edge of the woods.

Like he’d been watching them all this time.

He had the shape of a man but was tall and slender and impossibly beautiful in a way her mind struggled to grasp. Instead of skin, he seemed to be made of rough bark, which moved with him as effortlessly as water. Golden veins ran through the wood of his body so that he glowed from the inside.

Nora felt as if the air had been sucked out of her lungs. The Huldrekall had been around at the birth of the world, had known her ancestors as far back as they had existed. Nora was a big part of this city, but she suddenly felt like a very small part of the world.

“My old friend,” Mercy Holtzfall spoke. It was tradition to ask for help the same way Honor Holtzfall had when he’d come to the immortal being in his old age. “I come to ask for your guidance, for I do not know which of my heirs is worthiest.”

As cameras clicked, Nora wondered whether the ancient spirit even noticed them. All his attention belonged to Mercy. She extended the ancient ax to him, passing it over the border between the city and the woods, each remaining on their own side.

“I will guide your choice.” The Huldrekall’s voice sounded far away, as if it might be traveling from a deep hollow of a tree. “Who are your heirs?”

Constance stepped forward first, impatience practically bursting out of her. “I am her heir.” Her voice rattled with nerves. A few lenses clicked, taking her in.

Modesty was next in order of age. “I am her heir.”

Nora was next, younger than Modesty by only a handful of days. Her entire body lit up with pins and needles. Fear or purpose, maybe both. She felt the hundreds of eyes watching her, and the dozens of cameras, ready to take in her every gesture, her every mistake. She knew they saw her shaking.

But she wasn’t trembling in fear. She was eager. Eager to join the trials to reclaim what was hers. To prove herself, though her mouth had gone too dry to speak.

She was still holding a flute of champagne in her hand. She drained it quickly as cameras snapped around her. Let them. She didn’t care that she would undoubtedly see herself carelessly drinking in front of an all-powerful immortal being tomorrow.

“I am her heir,” she declared.

Finally, the words came from Clemency. There was a small flurry of cameras snapping. She was the youngest, at only fifteen, and the papers would remind everyone tomorrow that Valor Holtzfall had been only fourteen when he had died in the previous Veritaz. The gambling halls would place bets on whether all the Holtzfalls would make it to the end.

Her grandmother opened her mouth to utter the official closing words of the ceremony. But another voice chimed in first.

“Oh, Mother, you’ve forgotten someone, surely.” Heads turned, the crowd parting to admit Aunt Grace. Nora had only seen her from afar tonight, but up close she looked stunning in an emerald-green dress that was held at the back with lines of diamonds, and a long skirt designed to look as if she were wearing oversized feathers.

“Grace, dear.” Mercy Holtzfall pretended to laugh. “You’ve had your time in the spotlight. Let the next generation have their turn.” Her tone was light, but the words were sharp, especially those that were left unsaid. You had your chance and you lost. You are unworthy. But a sly smile spread over Aunt Grace’s face. Her eyes locked with Mercy’s in a silent battle of wills that Nora didn’t understand.

“Mother, you’re too funny.” And when the crowd parted, there stood a girl in a maid’s uniform. All eyes turned to the girl, though no one seemed to understand yet. But Nora saw it, so suddenly and clearly. The ethereal blonde hair, the delicate features and pale skin…The girl looked more like a Holtzfall than even Modesty.

“I’d like to present,” Grace said, dragging out her words for the drama, enjoying the attention, “my daughter.” The crowd exploded into noise, forcing Grace to raise her voice. “Ottoline Holtzfall.”

All at once, the whole of the garden burst into madness. A blur of camera shutters snapping and flashes breaking through the dark. Modesty had gone still, but Constance and Clemency burst into instant outrage.

Uncle Prosper and Aunt Patience looked just as shocked, staring across the garden at their sister. A dozen voices shouted, asking questions, pushing to get close to Ottoline, even as every Holtzfall knight in the garden moved toward her. The cacophony drowned out whatever Grace Holtzfall said next. But Grace’s hand squeezed her daughter’s shoulder as she whispered into her ear, and like she was pulling the string on a talking doll, Nora saw the girl’s lips move through the crowd.

I am her heir.