Fugitive of Death

12

 The next morning, I picked up honey from the rations tent.

It was a clay jar secured with a stopper and no larger than my thumb but it was all the cooks could spare. I just had to count on it being enough for whatever the Trial would throw at me.

That was, if Xander wasn't setting me up for a spectacular failure.

While scarfing down sesame-crusted bread and jam, the Captain's words loomed overhead. He had been surprisingly open last night and it both unnerved me and thrilled me. It was clear from his behavior that exposing his weakness to anyone was out of character. Which meant there were only two reasons why he would do so with me.

First and most likely, it was because I wasn't a threat—that my combat ineptitude and social deviance meant that even if I did maliciously spread what he revealed, no one would believe me or listen.

But second, it was because he knew I was different from the others and trusted me to share his mentality. And the idea of Lysidora's second-born prince trusting me filled me with more dread than the danger ahead.

Then again, he was helping me. Maybe there was a chance he wouldn't publicly ridicule me anymore.

I realized how futile that hope was the moment I sat down in the amphitheater and watched him stroll in, the icy expression of disappointment and aloofness plastered across his face.

"Good morning," he said, setting down an armful of scrolls that probably held his precious maps. "I hope you have all been training hard. As many of you have already pieced together, there will be a Trial for the newest cadets at the end of this week."

Murmurs erupted from the other cadets, some were nervous. Most were thrilled. Lysidorians were insane.

"Quiet please," Xander said, easily commanding them into silence. "The rules are simple: do whatever it takes to get from one side of the course to the other. This is meant to challenge your skills under pressure and in various environments." Somehow, in a sea of dozens, his glare found me. "You're allowed one object to use. Make your decision count."

To my left, Iris unstrapped her daggers and twirled them in each hand. "Decision made."

I toyed with the jar of honey in my pocket, feeling more unsure of it as the minutes wore on. Divines, if Xander had lied I was going to kill him. So long as this Trial didn't kill me first.

I didn't know what to expect but I sure hoped it was more sparring matches. Nerves devoured me through each day of training. By the time the end of the week rolled around, the Sympharion's frigid currents were starting to look more and more inviting.

On the day of the Trial, a blanket of gray covered the sky, saturating the air with stifling humidity. I lined up near the edge of the forest where an elaborate obstacle course had been set up. Xander and his ever-faithful gaggle of lieutenants stood at attention before us, blocking most of the course from view.

No chance of strategizing until they decided it seemed.

The river rushed past on the other side of them and my heart jumped into my throat. I had to remain calm. Fear would make me sloppy and anyone could choose to take me out today, framing it as an accident. Palming the jar of honey in my pocket, I made a silent vow to never be without a weapon again.

"The rules are simple," Xander said over the current, "make it to the other side in one piece. If you can't complete the Trial, you will be dishonorably discharged." He stepped to the side and the course sprawled before us. "Begin."

There seemed to be five stages of the Trial that wound over the river. The first was a set of wooden slabs slightly bigger than a door angled slightly on posts above a chasm. The second was a swatch of mud covered by barbed metal strands with hardly any room to crawl beneath. The third was two thin poles spanning the Sympharion, no doubt to cross once and then return. The fourth was an open stretch of land with only a few areas of cover and no discernable danger.