Page 96 of The Ninth Element

Darian, Faelas, Samira, and Bahador follow until we’re all together in the first row. Then, as one, we jump back to the solid ground of the cliff edge.

Zanyar still stands poised on the first pillar, his gaze fixed on me as if he wants to make sure I’m safely back before he continues. Then, with a breathtaking display of strength, he jumps to the second pillar, snatching the newly formed golden coin with effortless grace. And then, defying all logic, all reason, he soars to the third pillar, a jump that should be impossible for many men. For him, though, he lands with a quiet, controlled grace that looks out of this world. Only his knees bend slightly to absorb the impact with an impeccable balance.

I stare with wide eyes, mesmerized, my mind struggling to reconcile what I’m seeing. Is it sorcery? Some hidden, forbidden power? Or is it simply the peak of a man’s potential, a warrior’s skill honed to an impossible perfection? His movements are too fluid, tooeasy, for someone supposedly relying solely on physical prowess, especially after the struggles Faelas and Samira showed jumping to the third row.

He jumps back the same distances with the same effortless ease. He returns to the cliff edge as if he’d simply strolled across a meadow, then approaches Roshana. He’s almost tender as he helps her to her feet and moves her aside. Then, he steps toward the first pillar ofherpath.

What?! This shouldn’t be possible! The rules were clear:a path, once claimed, cannot be used by others.

And then, understanding dawns on me. Roshana never claimed her path. She never made the jump. The path is still open.

Zanyar doesn’t hesitate. He launches himself at the first pillar, picks up the newly formed coin, and slips it into his pocket. Then, the second pillar. The third. Each jump is a perfect arc, each landing precise and silent. It’s a spectacle of power and control that leaves us all speechless.

He returns to the cliff edge just as swiftly, retrieving the five coins from his pocket, and, with a gentleness that belies the power he just displayed, places them in Roshana’s trembling hands.

Then, without a word, without a backward glance, he turns and strides towards the Gajaris who are standing by the gates, his broad shoulders disappearing into the swirling cavern gloom, a shadow amongst shadows.

Chapter Thirty-Three

When we step back into the playhouse, it is as if we’d never left. The only sign of change is that Maleed and Kameel are sprawled on the floor, utterly unconscious, and Pippin… well, he looks like he’s stared directly into the face of a Daeva, and his usual quivering anxiety appears to be amplified tenfold.

“They, uh, dropped,” Pippin squeaks at Zanyar, pointing a trembling finger at the slumbering Ahiras. “Right after you… you stepped through.” He adds the last part with a nervous gulp, as if worried Zanyar might blame him for the earth’s pull existing.

Then his gaze lands on Roshana, and you can see any shred of hope shrivel up and die on his face. He’d clearly been betting on her epic failure, dreaming of being laid beside his two floor-decorating friends.

Roshana gives him a look that could kill and wipes her face, probably wishing it was Pippin’s blood she was wiping off.

Olanna, meanwhile, is having an emotional reunion with Samira, squeezing the life out of her. “Knew you could do it,” she shouts. Samira just nods, conveniently omitting the almost-plummeting-to-her-death affair.

The Gajaris, naturally, are already halfway to the door, presumably to make a swift exit.

“Oh, and where do you think you’re going?” Bahador bellows, his voice loud enough to wake the dead, or at least Maleed and Kameel (though Iwouldn’t bet on it).

The Gajaris turn with an unimpressed expression. It’s like they’d completely forgotten we existed. Which, knowing them, is entirely possible.

“We came here together,” Bahador continues, undeterred by their icy stares, “faced those lovely gates together, and by the Nine, we’re leaving together. It’s only fair we all share the same rank.”

The Gajaris don’t look thrilled at the prospect. But, surprisingly, they don’t move. Maybe because they know very well that without us, they’d still be wandering around town, mistaking brothels for temples.

“Let’s head back,” Darian says before smiling at me. That smile. The one that always makes my stomach jump its own leap across pillars.

I walk toward him, and we all start ascending the steps to the grand doors when I sense something is amiss. Glancing back, I notice Zanyar is still standing motionless on the stage. His gaze is fixed on me, and his icy green eyes are as unreadable as usual.

Why isn’t he moving? Does he not want to go back? A knot tightens in my stomach. He is my partner. If he chooses not to return to the castle, my victory will turn to ashes, even with all nine coins in our possession.

Darian notices my hesitation and follows my gaze to Zanyar. He turns to him. “Are you going to join us or what?”

Zanyar ignores Darian, his eyes still fixed on me. Is he having doubts, like Pippin? If he decides to walk away from the trial, I might as well be lying on the floor beside Maleed and Kameel. But we still have twelve contenders left, which means this isn’t the final trial yet. He could still falter in the next round, which will probably be the last.

“What’s the holdup, lad?” Bahador grumbles. “You can pitch a tent here if you like, but you’ve got Arien’s coins. We haven’t got all night to wait on you.”

Ignoring Bahador’s grumbling, Zanyar calls out, “Arien. A word.”

Everyone’s heads swivel toward me as I nod and descend the steps to join him on the stage, ignoring the protective frowns of Darian, Bahador, and Faelas burning into my back.

“What’s amiss?” I ask nervously when I stand before him.

He jerks his head to the side and takes a few paces back, ensuring our conversation remains private.

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