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CHAPTER

Sixty-One

T ALA STOOD WITH her back to the wall. The rain pummelled down, streaming off the ledge in great rinsing sheets. She was trapped in the same spot that had almost defeated her on the first circuit. The north-west watchtower.

Lightning crackled down the sky, illuminating the jagged rocks, the swirling sea. She wished it hadn’t.

“You can do this,” she muttered, her voice drowned by the storm. Beneath her headband, her auburn hair was plastered to her skull, clothes a second, drenched skin. She took one step sideways. It was like walking through a river.

From here, she could see directly into the watchtower. The guards had lit lanterns. Some were working, while others watched the storm. It was like a dream. What was she doing out here, when she could be in there? One of them caught her eye, smiled in encouragement, then looked away. They’d been ordered not to interact with the contenders.

“This is a Festival Trial,” Tala said, and took another sideways step. “And I will not quit. I am the Ox contender.” Another step. With her back to the glass, she gripped the windowsill. She was coming up to the loose section. Probably been loose for years. Probably safe. Probably.

Another flash of lightning and there was Ruko coming up on her right, a dark figure padding barefoot through the wall of rain. Slow, fluid, inevitable. Any moment now, he would be on top of her, wanting to pass.

Go in, or move on. Decide.

Tala said a prayer into the storm. Ox of the Kind Return, sure-footed and wise. Guide my path, and remain Hidden.

Another sideways step. Another. Almost there. She tested the next stone with her left foot. It rattled, but held. She shifted her weight…

The stone broke beneath her, taking the next two with it. They bounced and clattered to the rocks below, leaving Tala’s leg dangling in space.

She hauled herself back, gripping the windowsill hard. There was now a three-foot gap to her left. She cursed, loudly. The stone she was standing on tilted, threatening to follow the rest. No time to call the guards, she’d be washed away before they could help her.

Three feet. She took a breath, and half strode, half jumped the gap.

Before she knew it, she was on the other side, clinging to the wall and laughing with relief. Made it—with a foot to spare. She was safe. Only half a circuit to go—

A bolt of lightning pierced through the rain, and smashed into the watchtower roof.

Tala watched in horror as the ancient building cracked, and split apart. Brick, glass, stone—everything collapsed and thundered past her, swift as an avalanche. People falling. Their faces. Then gone.

And then she too was falling, sliding as the ledge collapsed under her. An image of Sunur, and Suru. She snatched desperately at the wall as she slid down it.

Her hand snagged on something—a crevice in the stonework. She grabbed it with three fingers, felt the jolt in her shoulder as it took her weight. She hung there, legs flailing. The wall was slick with rain, she couldn’t find a toe-hold. She couldn’t lift herself back up. She was stuck.

She screamed for help, but they were all gone. Except…

She looked up, blinded by the rain. She wiped her face with her free arm. Saw the savage gap above her head, where the watchtower had been. And Ruko, safe on the ledge. Looking straight down at her.

“Ruko! Help!”

He took a step back, then jumped the wide gap as if it were nothing, landing neat as a cat, despite the rain. And then…

No. He wouldn’t. There was no way—

He sprinted off. Not a word, not a backward glance. Just kept on running.

She howled against the rock. A primal, animal howl that rose from somewhere deep within. Her fingers were slipping, her shoulder screaming. “Monster,” she sobbed. “You monster.”

“Tala.” A rope dropped down the wall beside her.

He was on the parapet, bracing himself. She hauled herself up, feet slipping against the wall.

“Careful,” he shouted down. “Take your time.”

Once she’d reached the ledge, she flung herself over the parapet and lay there on her stomach, sobbing with relief. She kissed the ground, and then she got up and hugged Ruko, even though she could hardly get her arms around him.

“Thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

He stood there awkwardly, until she stopped. They stared at each other, the two survivors. Haunted.

“The whole tower, Ruko. Did you see them?”

He nodded.

The rain beat down, but the storm was passing. She gave him a gentle shove. “Go. Get back on the ledge. If you run…”

But it was too late, they both knew that. There was no way he could beat Neema’s time now. They walked south along the parapet, side by side. Now the storm was clearing, they could see the Leviathans in the channel—a watery smudge of the mainland beyond.

“I thought you’d left me,” she said.

A pause. And then, a confession. “I considered it.”

Tala breathed out. “What changed your mind?”

He shook his head. Impossible to explain the conflict inside him. He barely understood it himself.

“Those people, Ruko,” she said again.

He put an arm around her, stiffly at first. Slowly, something thawed as he remembered. This is how you hug someone. This is how you comfort them. This is what you do.