Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 64872 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 324(@200wpm)___ 259(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64872 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 324(@200wpm)___ 259(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)
Florentius grabs Akilah into a hug while the crowds scream the contest has been well and truly won. The regent beams and booms to the orchestrators to make it official.
My stomach roils at his words, but even more when I see Florentius pull back from his hug with a worried frown. Amongst a celebratory crowd, he’s checking her pulse again and swallowing thickly. He slings an arm around her and she rises, lets him lead her off the stage, but as they pass by I see the glazed look in her eye. She’s moving, but she’s not there. She’s a mere puppet, without a soul.
While the redcloaks are distracted, I scramble past them and onto the stage, Olyn and Megaera rushing to follow me. The regent snaps his head our way and pauses. “You can’t possibly think you can beat that.”
He waves a hand to dismiss us, but I refuse to budge.
His eyes narrow.
I quickly bow. “Please.”
After a long stretch of silence, Skriniaris Evander speaks. “Your highness, this contest has always prided itself on being a challenging but fair competition. While admittedly there is extremely little chance of surpassing the feat we just witnessed, perhaps it does no harm to allow the third team a chance?”
The crowds look on, shaking their heads, laughing.
Why humiliate themselves?
It’s these murmurings that have the regent drumming his fingers thoughtfully on the arm of his throne. With a smug smile, he raises his hands to silence the onlookers. “Indeed, the contest is known for the impartiality of its trials. Let this last team have their turn.”
I feign a thankful smile and say, “In the case we revive our patient, how will we determine the overall winner?”
The square fills with snorting, mocking laughter.
The regent is cackling too. A non-magic team really insists on competing against this spectacular display? He clears his throat. “The only way you could win is if you revive two patients within the hour!”
The crowds snicker and snort, and I haul in a deep breath. “Do I have your highness’ word on that?”
“Everyone here can attest to my word. Shall you revive two patients, not only will you win the Medicus Contest, I’ll bow down to you!”
“Just the win will do. May I request we heal the little girl?”
The regent flicks out a commanding hand and the orchestrators bring back the orange team’s patient and set her on the stage. Following this, they bring out ours.
Casimiria, her limp hand flopping over the edge of the stretcher.
I force myself not to make a sound, not to so much as squeeze my fists.
The regent says, “I’m sure your king would be on the edge of his throne if he were here.”
He means Yngvarr—his childhood beloved, almost lifeless on stage. But my king would be beyond distraught.
I whirl around to the counter where the dromveske sits and lift it before the regent. “I’ll go inside.” I have to bring her back. I have to bring all of their souls back.
For a beat, I feel the weight of everything at stake pressing against me—Quin’s life, Akilah’s soul, Casimiria’s survival, the longboat prisoners’ freedom. If I fail here, it won’t just be me who pays the price. It will be all of them. Everyone. Failure isn’t an option. And yet, staring into the regent’s dark, gleaming eyes, it feels unavoidable.
The regent leans forward, his dark gaze boring into me. His smile is savage. “No one but myself has come back from my dromveske.” He rises, moves to the large hourglass, and turns it himself. From inside his cloak, he produces a stick of chalk that he throws to me. I catch it as the regent addresses the crowd. “Best none of you fall asleep. My memories could suck in the souls of the entire square.”
Sharp gasps. Mothers jostle their babes awake, and fathers shake their bored boys.
Olyn and Megaera grip my shoulders and murmur I must find a different way.
“They’re wounded inside, or lost. I have to heal their souls. To do that, I need to reach them.”
“You’ll lose yourself if you go in there!”
My hand hurts where I’ve instinctively clutched my clasp. “I’ll be just as lost if I don’t.”
I give Megaera a scription that nourishes the body, tell Olyn to needle all stimulus points, and inhale a quickly ground sleeping drug.
I curl up on the stage floor, chalk the dromveske, and to the sound of incredulous laughter, fall asleep.
Shivers lurch up my middle as I fall through darkness and crash against a hard floor. I blink, and the inside of the regent’s dromveske takes form. I’m on shiny marble. Beside me is a purplish reflected glow—
I jerk my head up to an illuminated violet oak, sitting magnificently under an impressive stained-glass dome. I recognise the circular hall with its mosaic pillars and frescoed walls. This is the royal city’s luminarium.