Page 13 of House of Ydril

“And she’s disappointed. I’d think she’d be relieved.”

“It’s a great honor,” she tells me with a shrug.

But the next student is already in front of the tree. Not chosen.

Then another one. Not chosen.

Not chosen.

And so on and so forth, until Sarya walks up to the tree, throwing a smile at the rest of her trio over her shoulder.

“Ugh,” Nuala says. “A Viper.”

“What’s that?”

She snorts. “It’s not a ‘what’.” She points to Sarya and rolls her eyes. “The Vipers are this clique whose members just happen to win the Trialsevery single year.”

I open my mouth to ask how, but I notice a stir among the crowd. I turn to look at Sarya, who’s already placed her hand on the carvings.

And they’re glowing. It’s a bright blue light that wraps itself around her wrist and then disappears. But when she turns around, it looks like she has a new tattoo where the light touched her skin. A thin, dark circle.

“And what’s that?” I whisper to Nuala without taking my eyes off the girl’s hand.

“That’s the mark of the Bond,” she leans to whisper back. “When you’re chosen for the Trials, you basically sign a contract you can’t get out of.”

“Holy shit,” I blurt out. “So that’s how they make sure you participate?”

I turn to look at her, but her eyes are still fixed on the procession. She doesn’t say anything, she just nods, looking tense as fuck. Maybe she actually cares about this.

“Maybe it’s a good thing then,” I start, staring at her so she’ll look my way. When she does, I throw on a grin, adding, “That I’m so useless at this whole ‘being an Original’ thing.”

She does laugh, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. Wow, this must be a huge deal.

I watch as some of the other familiar faces get chosen. Harry. Zelda. Even Leo, who turns to the crowd to get an applause, his eyes stopping on mine for a second.

And even though most other students seem to just want to get it over with, it’s all taking such an incredibly long time. And just when I think I’m going to blow my brains out, there’s another stir in the crowd. It’s him, it’s his turn, I know it even before I turn my eyes back to the tree.

I’m right, of course. I can’t help but stand on the tips of my toes again, moving my head left and right to get a better look at him.

He’s taking his time, walking up to the tree as if he’s the only one there, as if there aren’t a whole bunch of people still waiting for their turn. I hate him for it. But I also don’t mind getting a better look at him. It’s so simple, the way he’s dressed, but it oozes luxury and elegance. Just like his entire presence, every move of his toned but slim body.

Even the way he places his hand on the tree is regal. He makes the act a lot more solemn, a lot more suspenseful than it was with the other students. I can’t help but draw in a breath.

And just as I thought, the blue light appears and wraps around his wrist, leaving the tattoo behind.

The silence is broken by an almost violent sound of clapping. I glance around to see that even Nuala has joined in. For a second, I stay still. There’s a part of me that’s pissed. Sure, the prince is someone whose parents died tragic deaths when he was still a little boy. That was part of the reason he became my obsession when I was in high school. But other than that, he’s had everything handed to him on a silver plate. Of course he’ll be chosen for something like this. It’s not surprising and therefore, it’s not at all impressive.

But of course, he’s the one people will clap for the most. Not some poor student who’s made it against all odds. Because apparently, there’s at least one thing that the Originals have in common with the humans. The fact that we don’t value accomplishments. We value status.

Still, I clap with the rest of them. This is neither the place nor the time to show the world how bitter I can be about some things.

The prince walks to the other side of the Tree, where the Pied Piper is putting flower wreaths around the necks of the Chosen.

A couple of more wreaths get used and before I know it, it’s Nuala’s turn. I throw her an encouraging glance, not knowing what exactly to cheer for, her being chosen or not.

But when nothing ends up happening and she makes her way to the back of the crowd, where theunworthyare standing, I’m no longer confused about it. She has a sour look on her face that tells me she really did want this. I also realize that I kind of expected her to get chosen, despite the fact that I know nothing about her powers. Nothing whatsoever.

But I don’t have time to linger on it. It’s my turn so I slowly start making my way to the tree, fighting to keep my legs from shaking. I can feel eyes on me and it makes it hard not to fall apart, just the thought that his might be among them.

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