Page 29 of The Veil of Hollow Gods

Light pours in, pale and cold as bone, and the air moves with a slow, shuddering breath. How had I not noticed? The room is no longer sealed shut, no longer a tomb dressed in smooth black stone. But the memory of it lingers. Like the walls might close again the second I stop looking.

“She didn’t want me exploring Shadowfell and getting hurt. Really, she did me a favor.” I could say more, but I’d rather have Sinea owe me.

I tuck the top linen around myself and stand, meeting him face to face.

Even in this early hour, he’s still…Tyr. Black silk, white hair, still carved too sharp—and a presence that fills the room like smoke, slow and inescapable.

I should want to run. Escape all his pressure—his presence—but there’s a stillness that makes me catch my breath. Makes me want to lean in .

“I’ve warned you about looking at me like that, Amara.”

I pretend not to notice how his voice wraps around my name. “Why are you here, Tyr?”

“I thought I made it clear. Your attendant was doing a poor job.”

“And what?” You’re taking over?”

He cocks an eyebrow at me. “Would you like that?”

I don’t say anything. I simply hold his gaze, matching the smolder in his with fire of my own.

He stays right there, staring, until a slow smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “Hurry,” he whispers. “You need to get to the dining hall with the rest of the potentials.”

He steps closer. I don’t step away.

“Do I have time to bathe?”

“Only if I can watch.”

“You’re a pig.”

I take a half step back. “But you have already been watching me, haven’t you?.”

Tyr’s brow furrows, folding the scar on his brow.

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve felt it—eyes. Lingering in the walls, the shadows. Your castle, your eyes.”

Tyr shakes his head. “I’ve told you before, Amara, Shadowfell and her secrets have been here far longer than I have.”

I push past him to the wardrobe, opening it to find he’s already activated it to the bathing chamber. I pause, dropping the sheet at the entrance to the chamber. “You’re not watching me?” I ask, descending into the obsidian room.

“No, but we have something to discuss while you’re getting ready.”

“Oh?” I step into the bathing pool, adjusting the temperature a few degrees warmer before settling in. I throw a look over my shoulder to find Tyr in the doorway, his back to me.

The least he could do.

“You made quite a scene yesterday.”

“And?” I let the water jets and eddies scrub my skin clean of that awful king’s touch.

“You’ll be even more of a target now.”

“A target? What do you mean?”

“The other potentials saw what you did yesterday. They’ll likely see you as either more of a threat or as a potential ally. Expect everyone’s attitude to change today. Even those you were close to.”

I search for the lie in his tone. I find none. His words ring true.

The question is out before I can decide if it’s wise to ask. “Was it a mistake?”

The Shadow King’s shoulders fall, as if he’s relaxing fully. Or resigned. “You played it like someone remembering what they’re worth.”

At breakfast, I catch several potentials staring at me as I make my way to Sevigny’s table.

“Amara, sit here,” Ashera says, pushing out a chair at her and Emile’s table. “I’d love to talk about what happened yesterday.”

I pause. “We can chat about it another time. I’m going to sit with my vestige mate, Sev.”

Ashera shrugs as if it was of no consequence. “Sure we’ll catch up later in the garden,” she says like we might actually do that.

When I reach Sev’s table I take a seat. Both her and Selke stare at me.

“What?” I ask as I tap the aetherglass in the center of the table. A plate full of thankfully entirely different food than what was at the trial appears before me.

“You want to tell us what that was about yesterday?”

Selke leans forward. “You upended their game. You flipped the board and basically told them to go fuck themselves.”

I stab at the sausage on my plate, picking up the entire link and biting off the end. It splits with a soft pop. I chew slowly, jaw tight. It’s not lost on me what this looks like—what it means. But no one says a word.

“My attendant warned me not to make waves. Said I’d be punished for it,” Selke says and picks up a bit of toast.

“Luckily, you didn’t make waves. I did.”

Selke eyes me. Something is different. The way she looks at me has changed. She’s not just assessing in the way I’m accustomed to from her.

“Yes, and I’m lucky that it was so clearly your doing. I can’t risk my place here, Amara.” Selke pushes her plate away. “If you want to play the game that way, that’s fine. But leave me out of it.”

I stare at her a long moment. “I get it. You’ve got too much riding on this.” I gather my plate and goblet of water and look for an empty table.

“Wait,” Sev says. “You don’t have to leave.” She looks down at her plate. “Maybe it’s better if you go back to your vestige mates, Selke?”

The murmuring hall quiets as the weight of watchful eyes presses around me. Selke hesitates—just for a breath—then presses her lips together and nods. “Yeah. Maybe that’s better.” She rises slowly and joins a table across the hall.

And I sink back into my seat. Sevigny and I finish our meal in silence.

The next weeks slip past like mist curling through Shadowfell’s halls, but Sev and I fall into a quiet rhythm—one that feels more like waiting than living.

We meet for breakfast, slip out of the hall before the sigilweave takes us back to our rooms—which only took us a week to figure out—and spend the morning exploring Shadowfell together.

So far we’ve only found dusty halls and spider nests. I haven’t yet stumbled on the secret room with the Veydra statue since the first time.

I also haven’t seen hide nor hair of Sinae since Tyr banished her as my attendant. But that doesn’t mean I’ve been spending more time with the Shadow King either. He’s just as absent as my former attendant.

After lunch, Sev and I usually go to the night garden as she calls it. The garden I found on the night of the presentation.

“What do you suppose this one’s called?” Sev asks, cradling a deep orange bloom in her palm. The petals drip with dew, unfurling gracefully to expose a brilliant red center.

I shrug. “Blood orange bloom?” I toss out.

“No, you named the one over there the same thing.” She points to a tree full of fiery orange blooms.

“I did. Well, how about demon blossom or widow’s lily?”

Sevigny releases the bloom, watching it float back to its rightful place. “How long do you think until the next Trial?” she asks, voice thick with wear.

“Soon, I hope. I’m getting tired of you drilling me on plant names I’ve never heard of before.”

That gets me the smallest smile. She stares up at the moonstone sky. “I have a bad feeling about this one.”

I freeze. The leaf slips from my fingers and glides to the mossy ground, stirring the smallest puff of aethermagic. “Bad feeling?”

She nods, a limp strand of hair falling in her eyes. “I don’t think I’m making it past this one.”

Her word freeze me in place. I don’t even take a breath before asking. “Why do you think that?”

She shrugs, finally meeting my eyes. Hers rounded with dread.“It’s just a feeling. But the worst part?”

Her voice dips to a hush. “I won’t even get to go home.”