The Raven Lord | Book I

XXIII. The Test

The first test would take place tomorrow.

At least, that was what I gleaned from the hushed whispers of the guards on the landing outside of the cell. Two days we had sat in the dark, interrupted only by the occasional tray of bread and water, which unsurprisingly we found hardly edible.

The next day, I was awoken from a half sleep by the click of the iron door opening.

"Kaira Whitlock," said the guard. I stood, squaring my shoulders. "Your test is about to begin."

Ash and Saskia tensed beside me as the guard slipped my wrists and ankles into shackles. I gave them a small smile, silently begging them to cooperate, as I was pushed from the cell.

The door slamming shut behind me rang through my ears, twisting in my gut along with the key. Barely a draft floating through the cell, Ash whispered, "Good luck."

They had been upset, more than upset, that I had agreed to doing the tests alone. As I had tried to explain my reasoning, Saskia marched around the cell lecturing me on the idiocy of the whole situation, and how she only wished Lex and Ciel were better off than I was about to be.

Lex. I hadn't been able to make any contact with him since arriving in Marwol. Saskia and Ash hadn't been able to either.

"It's probably just the wards preventing it on either side," Ash had said quietly. But I caught the anxious glance he shot to Saskia, and the sweat that coated his brow after his many attempts at contact.

So now, as I was marched out of the belly of the cell, I tried again.

"I'm okay. We are all okay," I sent through that invisible tether between our minds. No response.

We did not go through the corridors of the castle, but instead, I was dragged down several flights of stairs, each becoming narrower and damper the further we went. At the end of a long hall, we stopped at a stone door, a single torch illuminating carvings of weapons and great beasts around its arch.

A singular knock on the door had it swinging open on screeching hinges. Inside, a small oval room held several weapons racks with a colorful assortment: some rusted or broken, all of them covered in dried blood.

The guard nudged me forward as he said, "Pick one."

I moved carefully forward, the chains at my feet and wrists clanking with the motion. Scanning the racks, I felt my mind move back into a familiar place; the calm, quiet before the killing began. My mind turned like a gear shaking off rust as I determined which weapon I would claim.

The bow had always been my weapon of choice. Something about the sturdiness of it in my grip, the thrill of the knocked arrow, and the high of hitting your target. But these past months, I had been trained on the sword, Ciel and Lex nearly breaking me to perfect my form. I reached for the sword, my fingers shaking.

"Pick, Whitlock. We haven't got the time," the guard chided.

My fingers stopped.

I was supposed to prove I was a Huntress. And if the better of my sword wielding hadn't come until a month ago...

"I will pick for you," the man spat as he approached.

My fingers were gripping the handle of the bow faster than he could take another step. I picked up the matching quiver; a sleek ebony weapon. A reminder of who and what I fought for.

"Right," the guard murmured, dragging me to a circle of stone before a large, granite door. "Stand there." Removing the shackles from me, he stepped back. Retreating, I realized.