CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
E leven of us remained.
Ivan was there when we arrived, and Angelika followed not long after
Raihn and I did. The last, to everyone’s shock, was Ibrihim, who dragged himself through covered in gore, his sword bloodied, eyes faraway and empty. He had killed his partner right before stepping through the arch. Half was an odd number this year. Only one of them could live.
Ibrihim didn’t seem all that broken up about it.
How many people did I kill today? I wondered, numbly.
Everyone was staring at me. Not in the same way they usually did, either. Not with amused hunger, but wary curiosity.
I couldn’t decide if I liked the change.
Unlike the other trials, the Ministaer and his acolytes waited in the Moon Palace to greet us as we returned. After Ibrihim, the gate—which stood of its own accord in the center of the room—simply faded away, leaving whoever still remained beyond it to their bloody fates.
The silence was deafening. The Ministaer regarded us with a placid stare, an expression that only vaguely resembled a smile twisting his mouth.
“Congratulations,” he said. “You are finalists of the Kejari. You have made it into the final two trials. Our Dark Mother is very pleased with you.”
No one looked pleased with themselves. Only grimly determined.
“To celebrate your victory,” the Ministaer continued, “a ceremonial feast has been held at Nyaxia’s pleasure, in honor of your gift to the Mother of the Ravenous Dark. The blood that has been spilled, and for the blood you have yet to give her.”
His smile broadened, as if this was the only thing that brought him genuine pleasure.
Sometimes, I thought Nyaxia was a bit depraved.
“Go,” he said. “Heal yourselves. Rest. The Moon Palace, by Nyaxia’s generosity, has offered you all you need. Return to the church at sundown.”
T
I rasped a forced chuckle, and his brow flattened.
“What?”
“Hm?”
“That sounded like a dying cat, but what concerns me even more is that you actually faked a laugh at a joke that wasn’t even funny.”
That, I almost would have laughed at. But my head was foggy and my body exhausted. Now that the shock of the trial was starting to wear off, what I had done —and the fact that I understood so little of it—had begun to set in.
“Hey,” Raihn said softly.
I looked at him.
And out of everything that had just happened today, this moment might have been the most frightening.
Because right now, two truths careened into me at the same time:
One, that he looked at me like my well-being was actually important to him.
That he must actually care, because I’d felt the way he cared. I’d felt his panic when I was in danger, and that meant he’d felt mine when I thought Angelika would kill him.
Two, that the Halfmoon Trial was over. We no longer needed an alliance. And that meant that either he would kill me, or I would kill him.
These two undeniable facts collided so violently that I found myself leaning
back against the wall.
“Well,” I said, “we did it.”
My voice was hoarse.
“We sure fucking did.”
He took a step closer, his eyes never leaving mine.
I should have tensed. I should have reached for my blade.
I didn’t.
“You were fucking magnificent, Oraya,” he murmured. “I hope you know that.”
I lifted my chin and said, with as much conviction as I could muster, “I know.”
He laughed. His eyes crinkled when he smiled. Had I noticed before how much I liked that?
“Get a little rest if you can,” he said, “before the feast. I’ll leave you alone. Get ready in a different apartment.”
He spoke so casually, but I knew what he really meant. Was this how he acknowledged what had changed between us? Was this his way of saying, Neither of us have to make any moves yet?
Either way, I was grateful for it. Grateful that I didn’t have to spend these next few hours talking myself into killing him. Whatever the Oraya of tomorrow had to do… that could be her problem. The Oraya of tonight could just watch him for a little longer.
I refused to let even a hint of any of this into my voice as I replied, “Fine.”
He lowered his chin, went to the door, and opened it. Just before he slipped through, I said, a little too quickly, “Raihn.”
He glanced back.
“I’ll admit that you were a good ally,” I said.
He winked at me. “You knew it from the start,” he said, and closed the door
behind him.
I
I could practically smell the cigar smoke, hear her craggy voice in my ear: You’d better wear that dress. You’d better show those cunts.
Fine. I would. With one addition.
I tied Ilana’s scarf around my throat—a band of bloodstained purple silk tight around my neck, leaving two fluttering, slightly-scorched trails to dangle over my shoulder.
If I was going to let myself be a spectacle, at least I’d be one that fucking meant something.
…And I’d still find somewhere to put my daggers.
