Page 6 of The Prince from a Cruel Summer
Elio motions for us to stand in front of him. “Ladies first.”
I refrain from narrowing my eyes at his gallantry, suppressing the mistrust in my gut, and stare at the tall hedges beyond the stage as we wait for our turn to come. The holes forming two distinct entrances into the labyrinth’s exterior wall give absolutely no clue as to what lies beyond them, the hedges at least twenty feet high.
According to my father and the information he managed to glean from his network of friends, the first two trials should be Winter and Storms, followed by Spring, Autumn, and Light, before the trials end with Shadow and Summer.If I could only draw an early entrance slot and blaze through the Winter trial… it’d give me ample time to work my way through the other sections of the maze.
“Going too early has got its drawbacks,” Willow declares with the same verve she displayed earlier. “But the last few time slots are the worst.”
“Because of the time crunch, you mean?” I ask.
The applicants who go last have to race through the trials if they hope to make it through in time.
“Yes, and by the end of the night, the guardians are in a hurry to get to the afterparty. They’re known to be more vicious on the unlucky few who close the march since the poor bastards will be rescued and resuscitated by the judges in a somewhat timely manner after the closing horn. But the first few to enter get all the fresh, active traps.”
I could drown before the last bell rings…
“I’m hoping to draw a number between five and fifteen,” Willow says, sinking her small hand deep in the purple velvet bag to retrieve her tile. “Ten.” She blinks a few times like she can’t quite believe her luck. “Only one student who’s drawn this tile in recent times has died.”
My fingers tremble as I pick one of the last two tiles.
23.I press the rectangular piece of marble hard into my palm, and my stomach churns.I’m in the very last group to enter.
Elio reaches into the bag, too, and drags out the final tile. “I’m in the first group.”
Willow elbows my side. “What did you get?”
I grimace and show it to her.
“Time will be your true adversary. Less than ten percent of the applicants in the last group finish in time. A ton are severely injured, but none of them has ever died. Silver fucking linings, right?”
I grumble a strangled acknowledgment, wondering what 'severely injured' means for rich, powerful Fae who can easily get the best healers. Are we talking stab wounds or severed limbs here? I can’t afford to spend the next month in a sanctuary.
Master Evelyn collects the bag and turns it inside out to make sure it’s empty. “Alright. Now that you have your starting numbers, you know the rules. To be admitted to the Royal Academy, you have to come out of the other side before the closing horn blows. No physical objects, weapons, or armors of any kind are allowed inside. Only your magic and the clothes we gave you can cross the barrier. You have one hour after the chime of the last bell to cross the finish line. There’ll be no exceptions, however close you are to the end of the labyrinth. The early time slots get more time, that’s true, but they have more deadly traps to deal with, so you shouldn’t lament your late time slot.
“The labyrinth will ensure that you do not cross paths with each other, but if you were to encounter a guardian, know that they are not allowed to help you—or even speak to you. There will be no interference until the closing horn goes off, after which we’ll rescue those who failed.”
I paw at the front of my summer dress, my heart in my throat.
“The maze is made so that you don’t have to go through all the trials, but three at a minimum, depending on where you enter and exit the challenge,” Elio whispers. “You should strive to stay away from Spring and Summer altogether. Those two will be the hardest considering your darkling pedigree, and the viciousness of their magics.”
I squint at the prince. “Why are you helping me?”
“I think everyone should be allowed to apply here. It’s stupid that only high-born Fae get invited since power is not necessarily hereditary.”
Willow nods emphatically at that. “I agree. The way they only allow a teeny tiny percentage of common Fae to study here keeps the vicious wheel of our wicked caste system turning.”
“You’re preaching to a believer,” I say on a sigh. “The admission process is meant to weed out undesirables like me, who have enough magic to succeed, but not the right surname, favoring nepotism—no offense.”
Elio fails to conceal a grin behind his hand. “How did you get invited to the trials? My father left out that part.”
Willow points at the Shadow Prince’s back. “He’s the reason.”
Elio raises a brow. “Zeke?”
“Yes. If everything goes according to my father’s plans, I’ll be the next Shadow Queen,” I say, my voice shaking over the last part.
“Number one, left or right?” the judge calls out to the girl who drew the number one tile, urging her to choose her starting position.
She picks right, which means Elio has to go left, and the prince waves us goodbye. “Got to go. See you both on the other side.” He walks to the starting totem at the left entrance of the maze.
