Treachery Queen (The Callistra Chronicles #1)

TWENTY-ONE

Chapter Twenty-One

Circe pushed her sleeves to her elbows, her toes bouncing. She hadn't known that this would have collected a gathering, but it seemed obvious that the townspeople would want to see the contest for Divine. Never mind how they all had seemed to know where to go: Circe could barely find this nook of the forest even with explicit directions.

A pressure touched her shoulder, and Circe whirled around, her arms raising before she had even registered what she was doing.

"Oh, careful," Hilstan exclaimed, pressing a wrinkled hand to his chest. "If you could enter the circle, please?"

"Sorry," Circe whispered. She took a step back and huddled tighter into her cloak, reversing quickly. Bodies mingled between every towering redwood tree, humming with conversation. Around one particularly large trunk, a ring of candles surrounded the tree, allowing just enough space for a body to sit. Already, a few other contenders were gathered, peacefully allowing the surroundings to adjust against their magic with their eyes closed. Others stared into the trunk, attempting to work out the task by what appeared to be sheer force.

Most contenders were still in their youth, around her age with no great variation. There were the few from different covens who looked to be older, pushing for a chance, but in all their history, those who had gone too far from adolescence never did as well in the trials. Every ascension of a Divine happened close to their initiation.

Circe approached the fluttering fire, rubbing her hands over and over each other to still her jerky movements. She spotted Suhai, who had his hands placed gently on each knee.

When she met his gaze, he stiffened, his fingers visibly tightening. Her hackles raised too. She narrowed her eyes at him: a gesture obvious enough to cause disquiet but not so threatening that he would retaliate.

Circe lifted her leg, collecting the fabric of her clothing tightly, and stepped into the ring of fire. She settled herself into the soft earth and crossed her legs.

By the monstrous diameter of the trunk, Circe could no longer see a single other contender. Not unless, of course, she leaned back and stuck her entire body into the flames.

Her necklace was beginning to drip water down her back. Pasiphae was trying to contact her, but Circe could hardly whip out a bowl of water then and there.

She sighed, touching the chain. Whatever it is you have to do, she thought to herself, it's not as bad as being in fae territory like Pasiphae is. Just keep going.

She took a deep breath in, and let it out slowly.

"We begin within the minute," a voice boomed overhead.

Circe looked up, squinting up against a bright and violent sunlight. Since morning, they had been facing a sudden temperature flare, and though the clouds hadn't disappeared, the sun had been an annoying glint at the edge of her vision all day.

Sweat mingled with the water at her neck. The minute was dragging on. She resisted the urge to take off her cloak. Goosebumps raised on her skin.

Don't think about it, she cautioned herself sternly, don't think about this being the most important task of your life.

It was a useless cause. The panic had set in: hot air pressing down on her nose, on her mouth, squirming down her airways. Why did they hold the first trial at the height of day? The fire behind her seemed to creep closer with its heat, choking her under intolerable pressure.

Circe couldn't quite see straight. The bark before her had blurred into a smudge, its distinct lines becoming murky.

"Your task today," the booming voice began, echoing through the forest and drowning out the chatter of the spectators, "is of the most important quality in leading our sector. Amidst a time of death and destruction, there needs a beacon of life. Grow a seedling. Your time begins now."