Giant eagles carry us home. None of us is able to stay upright on their backs so they swoop down and carry us away in their talons. I try to count how many of us made it, but my vision blurs. Twelve? Maybe more? The bird delivered a water flask into my hands before it lifted me up. I grip the flask with the last of my strength, sipping fluids as slowly as I can. The flight back takes long enough that I fall asleep against the bird’s talons, waking to find myself in the courtyard outside the Storm Vault as the eagle sets me down in the circle of my Storm Command.

It takes flight, giant wings beating up a whirlwind, leaving me on the cobbled stone as Elise hovers over me. Her eyes brim with tears as she looks from my face to my hands to my patched back. “Princess, I’m so sorry…”

“I know.” It’s time. I have to subdue the storm. I try to stand but my legs buckle and I crash to my knees. I have to make it into the Vault and I have to do it on my own two legs. Elise can’t use a cloaking spell for me to lean on my ladies because other elves will see us. Even now there’s a crowd gathering, curious elves pointing and whispering.

“Close,” Jordan orders, concern brimming in every angle of her body as she casts glances back at me. The Storm Command responds by forming as close a barrier around me as they can, protecting me from prying eyes.

Jordan’s anger washes over me. “She’s hurt. She needs a healer. The others get to rest, but she doesn’t. It’s not right!”

I close my eyes and bite my lip as hard as I can. I force myself upright and take a step. Tears of pain drip down my cheeks. My legs are screaming and it’s all I can do not to scream out loud. I take another step. Somehow I make it to the corridor, across the marbled floor, and to the first door. I lean against it, my knees bending. Elise opens it gently so I can slide inside.

“Please Elise, now that nobody’s looking, can you…?”

“Cloak myself. Already done.”

As she slips her arm around my shoulders, it’s like being wrapped in wood but it’s better than walking on my own. I didn’t think I needed another elf’s touch, but after the gargoyle, my body aches for normality. A hug. Someone’s hand in mine. An arm around my shoulders that I can actually feel.

I stumble through the next two doors. She can’t follow me into the Vault itself so I fall into it, sliding to the floor. I curl into a ball at the edge and close my eyes, tears leaking onto the floor. I don’t try to stop them. Very soon the rain will wash them away. Or the wind will cast them back at me like a slap in the face.

I speak to the storm. “Do your worst.”

A breeze slides across me, caressing my skin, cooling the burning wound in my back. It lingers over my shoulder and waist where the bruises from the gargoyle remain. The wind swirls like ice, forming patterns above the surface of my skin, mirroring the shape of the gargoyle’s palms. The storm was a gargoyle once. The way it mimics the shape of the gargoyle’s palm is almost reverent. The shapes remain for a moment, great icy paws, before dispersing into the air.

The breeze becomes stronger, strong enough to push me upward, turning me onto my side, dragging at the material around my shoulders. Something rips from my back—then the patch floats over me. It’s soaked in blood. Blood I didn’t know I was losing.

Lightning crackles, striking the material while the wind holds it, burning it mid-air, destroying it.

I try to call the lightning to me, but I don’t have the strength. I sink back to the floor, my hand dropping, as a bright bolt of lightning streaks from high above me, thick and white and sharp at the end that’s pointed at me.

Before I can move, it strikes the wound in my back.

Pain explodes through my shoulders and down my legs, burning my back, leaving me screaming. Just as suddenly, icy rain pours down around me, putting out the flames, easing to a soft patter like a sun shower. The pain eases as the ice numbs my back.

Confused by the storm’s behavior, I open my eyes, squinting upward, but the rain shushes me.

Your wound is cauterized, it says. Sleep now.

I awake on the floor of the Vault. The storm’s gone. It’s quiet. Except for that annoying thumping vibration slamming through my head…

I open one eye. My head is pounding. I’m thirsty, but the storm told me the truth: the wound in my back is nothing more than a nasty scar now.

The thumping vibration hasn’t stopped. If anything, it’s getting worse and more erratic. I spin, frowning at the transparent panels at the side of the Vault.

I recognize Elise. She’s pounding her fists against the paneling. Her mouth is moving as if she’s shouting but the Vault is soundproof so I can’t hear her. Something’s definitely wrong. Adrenaline shoots through me and I jump to my feet, racing to the door and pulling it open.

“Princess!” she cries, drawing breath. “The next trial! The next test is about to start.”

My eyes widen. “How long was I asleep?”

“Two days. I’ve been trying to wake you…”

“Oh no.” I’m already running, flinging open the second door. “Which way?”

Elise is on my heels, her silken robes flying out behind her. “It was supposed to be a game of wit, but they’ve mixed things up. It’s a mass battle in the arena.”

I skid to a halt in front of the final door. “They want us to kill each other?”

Her face is pale. “Maim, wound, defeat, and force to yield, but not kill. Those were their words.”

My lips curl in disgust. “Then it’s a test for a torturer.” I slam my fist into the last door, frustration and anger burning through my nerve endings. “They’re doing this because of me. Aren’t they?”

“The whispers are that the idea originated from the House of Valor.”

Worry shoots through me. “Did Rhydian Valor make it through the first test?”

“With only a moment to spare. But yes, he did.”

“Then, it’s about revenge. He’ll go after Sebastian and Jasper first for humiliating him, and then he’ll come after me.”

Now that we’ve stopped running, Elise shakes beside me, trembling so hard I can see her arms and legs wobbling. I’ve never seen her so scared. “Elise, what is it?”

“The other champions won’t be cloaked. They’re allowed to touch you. They’re allowed to do anything they want to force you to yield.”

I stare back at her. Wait… anything?

She clutches the door. “You weren’t there when the Elven Command announced the trial. Rhydian Valor asked for clarification of the rules and the Elven Command gave permission for any methods to be used. I wasn’t allowed to speak. Commander Rath was silenced. He tried to speak for the other champions as well as you. This is bad for everyone.

“Please, Princess, I knew you’d never forgive me if I didn’t wake you, but please… don’t go to this trial.” She reaches for me and her fear is like a solid force. “Please stay here where it’s safe.”

“Safe for how long?” The storm’s whisper echoes around my head: Your husband will kill you. “Either they cut me to shreds in this trial. Or one of them tries to kill me in the end.”

“Cutting you isn’t the worst they could do.”

“I know!” I scream against the wooden door. “The Elven Command is trying to force me out. They want me to be so afraid that I won’t compete. Tell me one thing: while I was asleep, did the storm rage?”

She shakes her head. “I’ve never seen it so calm.”

“Then I might not have its power.” I need to curse. I need to shout and scream. But more than that… “I need my armor. How much time do I have?”

For the first time, there’s a glimmer of hope on her face. She opens the door, revealing my Storm Command waiting in a protective semi-circle. Jordan holds my armor out to me. But her face is as pale and afraid as Elise’s.

I say, “You hoped I wouldn’t open this door.”

“I did.”

“Cover me, please.” They close ranks as I strip off right there, sliding out of my damaged climbing suit and into the light-as-air armor. It covers me from my neck to my toes. I feel braver inside it. Let any male try to cut his way through this.

Elise says, “You have three minutes before they close the doors.”

I wish I could ask her to cloak my skin, but the spells that protect the trials won’t allow any spells to be cast over me.

I don’t have to say anything. I start running and so does my Storm Command. Two of them sprint ahead to clear my path, giving me a clear run through the courtyard and out to the arena. Crowds of elves press around the outside of the building. The upper levels must already be full. No doubt word has travelled fast and nobody wants to miss the spectacle. The onlookers obstruct the doors. If I don’t make it inside in time, it will be because of the elves outside.

My Storm Command screams ahead of me, the tips of their spears sporting blunted covers so they can use them to push elves aside. “Out of the way! Clear the doors!”

Elves scramble backward, hurrying to obey, whispering and pointing. “The Princess.”

From inside the arena, someone shouts an order. I recognize Elwyn Elder’s voice amplified by the spellcasters to be heard above the noise. “One minute to go. Close the doors.”

I’m not going to make it in time. There are too many elves in the way. But the doors are large enough that there’s space above the elves’ heads…

“Jordan, boost!”

She sprints ahead of me with one of my other ladies. The circle around me opens up to allow passage through the front. Jordan drops to her knee in the gap and so does the other elf, facing each other with their hands laced over their knees. I race to them and use their hands as a spring board. At the same time, they stand up beneath me, propelling me into the air.

I fly through the gap of the closing door, angling sideways to make it through. I roll on the other side and bounce up onto my feet.

Elwyn Elder pauses on the dais as my arrival causes a stir. His hand hangs mid-air as if he was about to give the signal to begin. He’s definitely not happy to see me.

An hourglass rests on a table beside him. It’s full of sand at the top which already drizzles to the bottom. I’m guessing that means our time has started. It’s too late for me to scream a veto at Rhydian Valor. Even if I could, eliminating him won’t do me much good—he has too many friends.

The arena has been set up so that there’s a protective shield around the dais at one end—a grand viewing area for the Elven Command. The rest of the crowd sits high above me on the upper levels, also protected by a shield. I’m assuming that’s in case of wayward arrows.

Down at floor level, the space has been spellcast to resemble a forest. The other champions stand at intervals around the arena. I count twelve, including Baelen, Jasper, and Sebastian. I take note of Rhydian Valor, especially the fact that he seems to have been placed in an advantageous spot behind a boulder where he can take cover.

Well, I guess that makes me lucky thirteen.

“Princess,” Elwyn says, his voice still amplified. “We thought you were too injured to continue.”

I stride through the grassy, green forest, twisting between the spreading trees and sparkling moss. It would be all unicorns and rainbows in this place if it wasn’t for the blood about to be shed.

I don’t have the advantage of a spellcaster to make my voice heard, but as I reach the dais, I give it my best shot. “You mean you hoped I was.”

My comment draws gasps from the crowd, but I’m beyond caring. I ignore Elwyn’s spluttering and lift my arms in defiance at the other champions.

“Well now, which of you boys is going to be brave enough to attack me first? Because we all know that’s why we’re here.”

Despite my bravado, I have a big problem: I don’t have a weapon.

That’s okay, Marbella, I tell myself. You’ll just have to steal one. And let it have metal in it.