He thought of Carver’s quiet dedication, his humility, and the courage that he had shown wearing the belt. He wondered how many hours Carver had practised, learning to hold his concentration through utter exhaustion.
‘Look, he’s coming back,’ said Emery. ‘There!’
A new cheer went up from the stands as Carver emerged from the archway, and Emery and Beatrix clasped each other in an outpouring of happiness for their friend. ‘He’s done it!’ Will heard one of the novitiates exclaim behind him. ‘Carver’s a Steward!’
Carver was all in white, transformed as if from a chrysalis. His eyes were quietly proud and happy. But the biggest change was in his manner, and Will felt a sense of wonder at the difference in him, the new quality that he shared with the other Stewards. It was an inner radiance, as though he’d entered the chamber in grey and come out forged by the Cup into radiant white.
As he stood in the arena, a young woman Will didn’t know stepped forward and took both Carver’s hands in her own. She looked only a year or two older than Carver, but she wore Steward whites, and her long brown hair was worn in the Steward style. They each spoke ceremonial words meant for each other and for the gathered crowd. A shieldmate vow, Will realised with a shock as she spoke in a clear voice.
‘I will watch for you,’ she said, ‘and you for me, and we will fight the darkness for each other.’
‘Do you think they’d ever let an outsider take the test?’
Violet stood beside him, the two of them alone on the balcony. The courtyards below were aglow with light, the Stewards gathered in celebration as the music of some ancient stringed instrument drifted through the leaves. Will could almost glimpse the beauty of the Hall at its height, the sights and sounds conjuring up long-ago pageants or the floating lights of a festival.
When he looked over at Violet, her eyes were wistful. She looked like a young Steward hopeful, he thought. Hours of drills with Justice had given her the sword-straight posture all Stewards had. She had learned their tritens and their focused meditations and could sit perfectly still in stress positions for hours. But she wasn’t allowed to train with them or take part in any of their ceremonies.
‘You need Steward blood to drink from the Cup,’ said Will. That was what Beatrix had told him. Only those of Steward blood could withstand the Cup’s power.
‘They only drink to give themselves strength,’ said Violet. ‘I’m already strong.’
He knew what she was really asking. Do you think a Lion could ever be a Steward?
‘I think if you took the test you’d pass,’ said Will. Her eyes flew to him. ‘You’d never let some belt defeat you.’ She drew in a breath, then gave him a crooked grin and knocked his shoulder with her fist.
He meant it. She seemed born to be a warrior of the Light, with her fierceness and her dedication.
He was the one who couldn’t light the Tree Stone, who spent hours with the Elder Steward with nothing to show for it but dead branches, like cracks spreading through the firmament.
A sound nearby made them both stop and turn, not wanting their words to be overheard, but it was only Carver and Emery on the staircase, taking a private moment of their own.
‘I’m proud of you.’ Emery’s voice. Will could see the faint pale gleam of his tunic in a nearby alcove.
‘For a moment, I thought I wouldn’t make it. But I kept hearing Leda’s voice: “Steward, hold to your training.”’
Emery said softly, ‘I wanted to take my test at the same time that you took yours. I always hoped that – I might be your shieldmate.’
‘Emery—’
‘I’ll train hard. So we can be Stewards together.’
‘There’s no rush,’ said Carver. ‘I – take your time. Don’t rush for me, Emery. There isn’t—’
‘Will, Violet!’ said Beatrix, waving to Carver and Emery too, and breaking the moment for all of them as she approached. ‘Let’s go join the others outside.’ Violet stepped forward, but Will hesitated.
‘Will?’ said Violet, looking back at him.
‘You go,’ he said to her. ‘I’ll come down later.’
After a moment she nodded, then turned and went down to the courtyard. He watched her follow the novitiates out, and then join up with Justice. Will stayed on the dark, quiet balcony alone, looking out at the revelry below.
He could see the Stewards and novitiates like glints of light, the music still drifting upward to his balcony, but it felt distant, like the occasional murmur of laughter or words that he couldn’t catch. The air here was crisply cold, the balcony lit with only the blues and greys of moonlight. He drew in a long breath.