Page 34 of The Ninth Element

They might not be my people, but at this moment, they are the only ones who have offered me acceptance. And for the first time in my life, I embrace it.

Chapter Eleven

“We need a new approach. Almost half the contenders are out after only two trials.” Faelas looks at each of us as he continues, “Survival is now paramount. We must stay focused and concentrate on just getting through instead of seeking a higher rank until we know there are few enough competitors left for rankings to matter.”

I devour a sausage, enjoying the salty flavor despite my anxiety. This morning, I’m sitting down to a full breakfast with the Izadeonians instead of grabbing an apple on the go, as I usually do.

“We also need a reliable communication method like the Jamshahis have,” Bahador growls. “The others wouldn’t have been tossed out if we could communicate faster.”

He’s been in a foul mood all morning. The other Izadeonians didn’t return before midnight, leaving Bahador, Darian, and Faelas the only three left in the trials from their fellowship, with only fifty-six contenders left overall.

The trials have barely begun, and they are already taking their toll on loyalties and alliances. The game has also shown its true nature, at last. The memory of the Martyshgards returning with two lifeless Maravanians last night haunts me. All through the night, I couldn’t shake the image of the young man with an arrow protruding from his throat. How easily that could have been me without Darian’s quick reflexes.

Darian nods solemnly. “This isn’t a child’s play anymore. We’d be back home smelling roses on the hills if it weren’t for Arien’s quick thinking.”

“Aye. This trial also revealed our vulnerability in moving around the fortress,” Faelas grumbles. “We need to know it’s layout like the back of our hand.” His gaze shifts to the table, where a map sits beside his half-eaten breakfast. Turns out, he’s been secretly mapping the entire castle for the past ten days.

“I’ll try to work my charm on the Martyshgards,” Bahador offers. “They may be masters of secrecy, but a shared tankard of ale can loosen even the stiffest lips. And let’s just say I have a few…persuasion techniqueswhen it comes to the ladies.” He winks while Faelas shakes his head in disapproval.

“Speaking of ale,” he continues, “I heard whispers of a secret revelry in the northern ward tonight. Perhaps I can sweet-talk our way in and uncover some juicy gossip.”

Darian nods. “The Maravanians spill secrets like a leaky wineskin. I’ve also managed to forge bonds with a few Eyrians over our shared hatred of mountain beasts. And as for the Hamden and Kish, we know all there is to know about them, which is to say, precisely nothing worth knowing!”

“Information is valuable, but finding allies is crucial for survival,” Faelas states.

“Especially now that we’re down to a mere three,” Bahador adds bitterly.

“Four,” Darian says, nodding to me as if we are lifelong friends.

I blink, startled and slightly disconcerted by the casual intimacy of his gesture. As always, I can’t help the pang of suspicion that pierces through my mind. And yet, despite my ingrained skepticism, despite the years of conditioning that scream at me to be wary, to trust no one, a strange, unwelcome warmth blooms in my chest. That simple acknowledgment feels genuine. And that possibility is the most alarming yet exciting thing of all.

“True,” Bahador says, “but I was referring to the Izadeonian contingent, not our expanded circle.” He winks at me, causing the warmth in my chest to spread up my neck.

“Let’s not get too comfortable,” Faelas cautions, tempering our buddingfellowship. “These trials are fickle; alliances can shift like sand. Today’s friend could be tomorrow’s foe.”

I tense, but Darian dismisses Faelas’s concerns. “Nonsense! We Izadeonians value loyalty and recognize a worthy companion when we see one.”

“The Maravan and Hamden contenders are our best bet for partnership,” Bahador says. “The Jamshahis are too many to need allies, and the southern Myrans and Aramisis have already aligned themselves with the Ahiras, all practically worshiping their High Lord’s son. The Gajaris are lone wolves, and as for the Kishis… well, Darian might have scorched that bridge last night, eh?”

Darian snorts, unrepentant. “Rightfully so! We wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t chosen Arien.”

Darian has been showering me with compliments for my quick thinking since last night, reminding everyone within earshot that I am the reason we succeeded. After a lifetime of cold, calculating interactions with the Ahiras, this sudden outpouring of gratitude is strange.

Faelas, however, remains pragmatic. “Choosing Arien was wise. But burning bridges isn’t. We need allies, not enemies. Isolating ourselves is dangerous, as the last trial showed.”

Under Faelas’s stern gaze, Darian relents. “All right, all right. I didn’t anticipate last night’s twist. A quick decision had to be made. I’ll find them and apologize.”

Turning to me, Faelas raises an eyebrow. “What’s your plan going forward?”

“I’ve been searching the library for anything related to Martysh and the trials. There’s little to be found, but maybe some hidden secret can give us an advantage.”

Faelas’s face slightly lights up. “That’s a plan I can get behind!”

Relieved to have a clear task in their group, I nod enthusiastically.

“Sounds like a perfect division of labor!” Bahador says with a smile.

“Don’t forget the importance of steel, Arien,” Darian says. “We saw how quickly things can turn dangerous. Ditch the archery and daggers. You’vegot that down. Focus on what needs improvement.”

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