I was in Orion’s bedroom, where everything was in its right place. Slowly, the memories started to return to me—the blast of magic, the sexual torture of healing.
But who the fuck was this woman talking?
The fog of sleep cleared more, and I tuned into her words.
“…but Lenore was always an anxious raven…”
I startled, looking back at the bedside table. An old-fashioned cassette played a very familiar book.
How did he remember? We’d talked about this in the underworld. This was what my mother would read to me when I was home sick from school, or she’d play the audiobook for me when I couldn’t sleep.
Lenore the anxious raven, who had to learn to slow her breathing before she could sleep.
My mind shot back to a conversation I’d had with him, the things our parents had done to soothe us. It shocked me that he remembered.
My heart swelled when I thought of him finding this for me.
Then it constricted again as I realized I was running out of time to prepare for the trial. And that Orion would be doing whatever he could to throw me off.
If I didn’t get my shit together—fast—I’d lose everything.
21
ROWAN
Evening of the trial.
Rosy sun rays spilled through the trees, and the forest’s shadows grew long. As nerves tightened my muscles, I wished I had something to do with my hands.
Twilight was the most powerful time to lower the veil between the worlds.
After I’d recovered my sanity, I’d had three full days to practice. And that was about how long it had taken to summon Goody Pendleton, and to successfully bind her with magic. Just as Kas had promised, she’d been very good-natured about the whole thing, so I’d summoned her and bound her again and again, until my throat was hoarse and Legion yelled at me to get some rest before I lost my mind all over again.
I closed my eyes.
I’m ready.
I’d memorized the spells, and I could rattle them off fluently. I knew the exact memory to conjure up to summon just the right amount of magic.
I doubted that Orion had practiced at all, which had been my hope. He leaned against a tree, his arms folded, hair falling in his eyes. Insouciant as ever. His gaze slid to me, but his expression was unreadable.
Focus on the trial, Rowan. Not on him.
If I let his pretty face distract me—and the memory of his abs flexing under my fingertips—I’d lose. No question about that.
I scanned the grove of mossy oaks, my heart beating a little faster. When I’d practiced, I hadn’t had an audience. But today, half the city was out here in the forest to watch the start of the trial. There was no way to know where this competition would lead us today, but seemingly everyone in town had left their homes and lined up in the woods and city like they were waiting for a parade, hoping to get a glimpse of the moment that might fell a king or crown a queen.
Mist snaked around the ancient boughs and trunks.
I closed my eyes again, mentally reviewing the spells. I didn’t need to review them at this point, but it kept me from looking at Orion’s eyes, and from remembering the feel of his strong hands on me—
Focus.
My jaw clenched. Practicing, I mouthed the words like I was murmuring a prayer for salvation.
The sound of footfalls crunching over twigs pulled my attention from the spell. The dean of Belial crossed into the grove. Mistress Blacknettle, a stunning mortal woman, wore a crown of bluebells and white bloodroot flowers over her long silver curls.
Standing ramrod straight, she lifted her chin. “It has been centuries since a shadow scion has challenged a king. Two Lightbringers, each blessed by Lucifer, vie for the crown tonight, according to the ancient rules of the trials. At dusk, in the boundary between the world of the living and the dead, we will begin. And as night falls over the ancient city, the gods shall decide who will rule the City of Thorns.”
A shiver skittered up my spine. Did the gods really have anything to do with this beyond Tammuz’s fervent desire to create chaos?
Mistress Blacknettle pulled out two small vials of blood, one for each of us. Inhaling deeply, I pulled the cork open, then dipped my pinkie into the blood and leaned over to draw the star on my forehead.
“Whoever is able to first summon Alaric will have a bond with him, and the other competitor will not,” the dean declared. “But the bond does not guarantee a win, only an advantage. The trial will not be concluded until the crown is in someone’s hand. Understood?”
As I painted the star onto myself, the shadows thickened around us, and the sultry breeze picked up, catching leaves in the air. Distant thunder rolled across the forest.