Page 99 of The Ascended
"Those wards you created during the Hunt were quite impressive," Novalie said, her eyes wide and earnest. "Though it looked as if they didn't work properly?"
I tensed, remembering the way the creatures had ignored my friends' protection to focus on Thatcher and me. "Just didn't make the distillation strong enough," I lied smoothly. "First attempt and all that."
Lyralei's gaze lingered on me a moment too long.
"And how is it, working with the Prince of Draknavor?" Vesper asked, not bothering to hide his curiosity. "He’s known to be... difficult."
"That's one word for it," I replied, unable to suppress a smile. "He's a decent teacher when he's not being an insufferable ass."
They laughed, the sound brightening the gloomy chamber.
"The Choosing certainly didn't go as anyone expected," Lyralei remarked, her fingers nimble as she wove small jewels into my hair. "Many thought Xül would select your brother after that display with Drakor."
"So did he," I admitted. "But at this point, I can't imagine being paired with anyone else. Despite his... techniques and sharp tongue, I don't think any of the other Legends have his breadth of knowledge. The years he spent in libraries clearly paid off."
"We're proud of you," Novalie said suddenly, her expression turning serious. "Surviving the first trial is no small feat."
A heavy silence fell over the room, tension creeping in where lighthearted banter had been moments before. We all knew the truth. This was just the beginning. There would be more Trials. More death. More pain.
I saw it in Lyralei's eyes as she finished my hair—a sadness that couldn't be masked by her professional demeanor. She had prepared countless contestants over the years. How many had returned?
"There," she said finally, stepping back to admire her work. "Let's show you."
They turned me toward a full-length mirror.
My black hair was swept up in an intricate style that left my neck bare, small blue-black gems woven through the braids like droplets of night. The dress they'd chosen was neither black nor blue but somewhere in between, the fabric shifting shades with every movement. It draped over one shoulder, leaving the other bare, and fell to the floor in a cascade of melting darkness.
The cosmetics they'd applied hadn't masked my features but enhanced them, turning my eyes into indigo pools deep enough to drown in, my lips stained the color of bruised plums.
I looked dangerous. Beautiful, yes, but in the way of finely honed blades—something to admire from a distance, never to touch.
"What do you think?" Novalie asked.
Before I could answer, a deep voice came from the doorway.
"Adequate."
The Dreamweavers scattered like startled birds, turning to find Xül leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest. He wore formal attire—a coat that fell to his knees, its fabric as black as a starless night. Beneath it, a vest of deep crimson, and at his throat, a single ruby that caught the light like a drop of blood.
"My lord," Lyralei managed, dipping into a hasty bow. "We were just finishing."
His eyes never leftmine. "So I see."
The Dreamweavers gathered their things with impressive speed, murmuring goodbyes and good lucks as they filed past Xül. He stepped aside to let them pass, his presence filling the room like a toxin.
Lyralei was the last to leave, pausing briefly to squeeze my hand. "Remember what I told you before the Proving," she whispered. "Eyes up. Back straight. You belong there as much as any of them."
Then she was gone, leaving me alone with Xül.
I stood, smoothing the fabric of my dress. "Well? Is adequate the best compliment you can manage, or are you saving your charm for the banquet?"
His lips curved in that almost-smile I'd come to recognize. "You clean up well, starling. Though perhaps I preferred you covered in blood and victory after the Hunt."
"You would," I muttered.
I brushed past him, stepping into the corridor. He followed, his footsteps soundless against the stone floor. "So what kind of fuckery awaits at this divine gathering?" I asked as I walked toward the entrance hall.
He pursed his lips as he caught up with me, matching my stride. "A feast, of course. Socializing. The usual tedium... and the proper greetings, naturally."
