He stopped and grabbed both my hands, bowing over them extravagantly and brushing his warm lips over my knuckles. Before I could chastise him, he was helping me into the carriage. Moments before, I’d been his opponent, struggling to keep my feet as he hit me with attack after attack. In the space of a breath, he was treating me like I was a lady he was courting.
I shook my head as Kai settled into the carriage across from me, his long legs stretching indolently like a satisfied cat. Would I ever get used to his changeability? As much as he talked about feelings, it was hard to tell if he felt anything seriously at all. I had to remind myself that he was only training me so that he could have his second chance. I doubt he cared whether I passed or failed, aside from how it affected his own outcome.
If I died during the trials, would anyone here care?
I stared at the passing scenery: glimpses of the ocean between clusters of homes and vegetation and the wharf. A storm cloud hovered in the sky to the northeast. My thoughts turned to Arcus—the only person that I knew beyond doubt would protect me at his own expense.
Well, that had been the problem, hadn’t it? He’d been risking his court’s wrath to keep me near. And I’d cared enough about him to leave.
My chest tightened sharply. Would I ever see him again?
“You look sad,” said Kai, his eyes glinting. “Chin up, little bird. You did well today.”
“So you think I’ll be ready?”
He didn’t reply right away. I waited, wondering whether he would offer a platitude or an honest reply. Wondering which one I wanted.
His expression became uncharacteristically somber. “No one is ever ready for the trials.”
“Even you?”
He hesitated. “Unlike the naive boy I was, I now know what to expect.”
“I thought that was forbidden. Knowing what to expect.”
His generous lips curved, his handsome face losing all traces of seriousness. “I’m the exception to all rules, Ruby. You’d best remember that.”
TWELVE
DAYS PASSED IN A BLUR OF MUSCLE aches, frustration, and bruises, interspersed by glimmers of hope. I couldn’t say Kai was patient, but he was determined and unwavering. He showed that he was capable of serious dedication. I knew that every time he attacked or blocked or surprised me, he was doing so because he wanted me to succeed. He wanted me to be ready. If I failed, so would he.
He’d taught me several new moves, he’d tested the strength of my fire by having me melt or burn myriad objects, and he’d made me meditate for hours to hone my mental control, not allowing me to move until I was frantic with the need to stretch or fidget. I didn’t complain. I didn’t argue. I learned quickly because I had to. I knew I was improving by the admiration I occasionally saw in his eyes.
One unexpected benefit of the long hours of training with Kai: We developed an easy harmony, the kind of meshing of gifts that the masters seemed to prize so highly. I started anticipating his moves before he made them, and he often predicted mine. It meant that neither of us won easily, although I sometimes wondered if Kai was still going easy on me to build my confidence. We became well-matched sparring partners, pushing each other to new extremes of skill and creativity. It made for a few spectacular fights, drawing the students and masters into appreciative crowds on more than one occasion.
We hadn’t yet come close to the proficiency displayed by the senior masters, though. Many of the children even showed certain skills that already exceeded my own. Still, my gift was strong and growing stronger. Hope grew a little every day. I only wished hope equaled certainty. Even if I’d been the brightest pupil in Sudesia, there would be no guarantee I’d pass the trials. After all, even Kai with his staggering speed, agility, and power had somehow failed his first attempt.
Which meant I needed a backup plan.
Pernillius’s book could very well be in the library at the school, but I wouldn’t gain access to it unless I passed the trials. So I had to explore other paths to knowledge. I made a point of speaking to the masters during my breaks from training, hoping to find Sudesia’s version of Brother Thistle. Surely one of them knew of a scholar whose favorite pastime was burying himself under piles of decaying volumes and musty scrolls. My tentative questions all led me to the same answer: Master Dallr was a keen student of history. He was the one to speak to if I had any questions on esoteric knowledge.
The problem was that Master Dallr had the friendly demeanor of a locked vault and the approachability of a sea-worn cliff. I could bash myself against his jagged exterior for hours on end and all I would get was a headache. Small talk yielded nothing. When direct questions about his love of history didn’t work, I moved on to flattery. When that failed, I attempted charm, which was awkward for everyone. Kai winced at my eagerness. He began to tease me about hero-worshipping the legendary master, until I walloped him, flipping him onto his back in the school courtyard in a cloud of dust. He, of course, grinned.
The most I could glean from all my efforts was that the library did indeed house the most rare and valuable of the kingdom’s manuscripts. And without exception, only the masters were admitted entry.
When the week of training was over, I was gripped by a sense of inevitability, underpinned by panic. I could no longer tell myself that I’d find the book without committing myself to any vows. Only as a master would I be trusted with the knowledge I needed.
The night before the first trial, Kai and I were invited to dine with the queen.
We entered the great hall, a spacious room on the second floor of the south tower with embroidered silk curtains in warm colors, and bronze hanging lamps with lacy openings that blazed with light. The highly polished wood table reflected the lamps, throwing an extra glow onto the colorful porcelain plates and glass goblets. Side tables topped in mosaic tiles were covered with fragrant dishes emitting the scent of roasted meat and unfamiliar spices. The queen sat at one end of the main table, and Prince Eiko sat at her right. Though the setting was rich and stately, the atmosphere seemed intimate. It struck me as less formal than dinners in the Frost Court.
With help from a lady’s maid named Ada, I’d dressed in a white gown with gold lace covering the bodice—borrowed from the overstuffed wardrobe of some Fireblood lady of the court. Kai, with clothing that had clearly been tailored just for him, was a study in masculine perfection in a cream doublet over fawn trousers and black knee boots. Queen Nalani wore a wine-colored silk dress and a heavy gold filigree crown, while Prince Eiko wore loose robes in navy blue. Her lips curved in the hint of a smile, but her expression remained as watchful as ever. I dropped into a curtsy, my palms damp against my skirt.
“You may rise, Ruby,” she said in Tempesian, surprising me with both her fluency and her willingness to speak the language, presumably as a courtesy to me. “Good evening, Prince Kai.” She invited Kai to sit at her left side and for me to sit next to him.
As Kai pulled out my chair for me, Prince Eiko stood politely. I took a second to examine him more closely. His sable hair was streaked with hints of white, his narrow but handsome face just beginning to soften at the jawline. My attention was arrested by his eyes, a bright shade of leaf green. They seemed to be fixed on the left side of my face, which made my scar feel unaccountably warm. I rubbed it briefly to ease the sting.