Page 154 of A Game of Veils

If Raul and Bastien combined their talents again, perhaps they could crack some of the hidden pits to reveal them. But when my gaze darts over the crowd swarmed between the trees, I can’t find their faces.

There’s no sign of Lorenzo either. Did the princes decide they’d risked as much as they dared and leave rather than endure the rest of the trial’s horrors from the sidelines?

A chilly twinge passes through my gut, but I grit my teeth against it and keep moving. I’ve always said I want to win the trials through my own merits. Why should I expect them to help beyond preventing outright sabotage?

I’ll win through my own strength and perseverance as I always have before.

As I pull past Leonette again, a slight hitch beneath my toes gives me a warning. I shift my weight to my other foot and shove myself onward with only a brief wobble.

A moment later, Leonette crashes through a slightly larger pit, the ground swallowing her leg up to her lower calf. She pitches forward but keeps going with her mouth pressed tight. The hitch in her step suggests she’s at least temporarily wounded.

“That’s right!” one of the watching nobles hollers. “Stay on your feet for the emperor!”

We come around another shallow bend and find the terrain between the trees there is covered with a swath of jagged rocks. They jut up at different angles and sizes, some as large as my torso and others as small as my fist.

Fausta darts between me and Leonette, having dodged all the pits we knocked open. She clambers over the rocks, dipping here and there to catch her balance on the larger ones.

I rush after her and scramble over the uneven mess as quickly as I can. As I push from one flatter surface to another, avoiding the most precarious spots, my legs teeter under me.

It would really hurt to fall here—not just the risk of sprains, but the rough edges of the rock ready to scrape through our skin.

Fausta discovers that danger a moment after I think it, with the skidding of her shoe over a tilting stone. Her shin bangs another rock in front of her, and a breath hisses through her teeth.

She hurtles onward, a little shakier than before. Leonette and I both redouble our efforts to strip her of her momentary lead.

Whistles that sound more taunting than encouraging carry from the crowd. The energetic shouts of our audience are melding together into a blur of sound beneath the thudding of my pulse in my ears.

The rock-smothered path swerves once more, and all three of us falter at the sight of what lies ahead.

We’ve reached the outer walls of the palace grounds. The stone barrier looms up in some fifteen feet of layered blocks of limestone, unbroken other than a small doorway off to the side where palace staff are ushering the nobles farther along the course.

That’s not what unnerves me. Our route itself soars right up over the wall: a precipice of wood, stone, and glinting chunks of metal that rises twice as high as the wall itself.

We’re meant to climb right over.

My jaw has gone slack, but I can’t afford to let nerves take over for more than an instant. I charge toward the slope, already seeking out the handholds in the mottled surface.

I grasp one wooden protrusion and another, hauling myself up the steep incline. Then my hand starts to close around a spike of metal.

The sharp edge pricks my fingers. I jerk them away before the spike can pierce my flesh.

All right, I can’t climb with absolutely reckless speed.

As I take a closer look at each outcropping before reaching out, Leonette hefts herself past me, her gaze intent on the top of our perilous bridge. Fausta clambers at her heels, but my quick peek her way shows her porcelain face has turned even more wan.

Is she tiring? My own lungs are burning from the strain of the race, and I have no idea how much more the emperor and his heir intend to put us through.

As we pull ourselves higher than the level of the treetops, a wind whips over us that feels totally natural. If Bastien is still watching after all, I can’t imagine he’d think the warbling gust would help me.

I clutch the protrusions harder and keep heaving myself up. Fausta lets out a faint squeak beside me, her hair billowing with the breeze, but I don’t even look at her.

As we come up on the peak, the gaps between the handholds lengthen. I have to stretch my arm to reach the next, my pulse hammering even harder.

Then, just inches from the wooden knob I’m gripping, a chunk falls out of the edge of the slope and plummets. A crash reaches my ears when it hits the ground.

Fuck. We’re running out of time.

Leonette clambers even faster with a deftness I have to respect. As I scramble after her, I notice Fausta’s arm shaking as she snatches at an outcropping over her head.

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