I did as he said, and when he began tying my wrists, I muttered, "Then who is Risha's heir?"
"Trina told me that you found the prophecy carved on the wall of cell number four."
"One to Vanquish, One to Rule, One to Fall, But All to Fool," I mumbled. "No doubt the last line is a reference to what a fool you are."
"You're half-correct." He smiled, entirely pleased with himself. "The last line does reference me, and how I've successfully fooled everyone. For I have secretly put the Olden Blade into the hands of Risha Halderian's daughter."
I froze. "Risha had a daughter?" I tried to pretend that I didn't care about the answer, and failed at that too. Because no matter how I wished otherwise, I already knew it. "Trina?"
"She is the natural heir to the Olden Blade." Tenger finished tying my hands. "There is no question of how the ceremony will end tonight."
Trina? The girl who had threatened me with nearly every breath she drew? The girl who raged at the loss of a meal, hid her emotions with all the subtlety of the noonday sun, and who listed as her chief personal concern the desire for acceptance? This was who he wanted to entrust with bringing down the Dominion? At her best, it might take Endrick a full minute to devour her.
He continued, "We rode slowly to give her time to arrive without your interference. The ceremony will begin as soon as I pass the Olden Blade to her. It will end with the precious dagger in the hands of a Corack."
I barely heard his words. If Trina was Risha's daughter, then she probably did have the greatest claim upon the Olden Blade. She would become the Infidante, the One to Vanquish.
"I know you don't like or trust her," Tenger said. "I know she has flaws, but as the child of Risha Halderian, she has a unique destiny. After tonight, she alone will have the ability to kill Lord Endrick."
Or to be killed by him. They might as well save time and give the Olden Blade to Endrick now.
"Others may come forward," I said. "The dagger may yet accept someone else as its master."
"No," Tenger said. "It will be Trina, or no one. That's my job."
"Is that your only job? What about the second line of the prophecy?"
He grinned, so arrogant I felt my fists curling. "One to Rule? Yes, that will be fulfilled tonight as well." With that, he picked up his knife again, a weapon I now understood he would use against any other Halderian who tried to claim the dagger, or the throne. He sheathed it, then added, "It's not too late to pledge loyalty to the Coracks ... and to your future king."
By now, my temper was boiling. "Bow to a man whose leadership casts such an insignificant shadow? You insult the true king."
His smile turned false. "The true king is whoever Trina names tonight. And if you try to stop us, you will lose."
The last I saw of him was a stern frown that he must have hoped would make me cower, or beg for him to accept me. I kept my gaze at him steady, hoping he would see nothing in my expression.
Because if he did, he would probably do worse than tie me to this post. My heart was in turmoil, yet I was determined to keep fighting. This no longer had anything to do with the defeat of Lord Endrick. To save Antora, I had only one choice left. I had to stop the person meant to save Antora.
Simon!"
My eyes fluttered at the sound of my name, though I wished I hadn't heard. My head pounded fiercely, worse than when the Dominion soldiers had treated my body like a kickball. What had happened?
Through the fog that was currently serving as my memory, I vaguely recalled Tenger raising a rock. Was it to attack me, or protect me from an attack?
Someone jostled my leg and called my name again. That was Kestra.
"Ow," I moaned. "Really, you're kicking me?"
"I'm sorry. Tenger--"
"So it was him. But why?"
"Your captain is protecting his choice for the Blade: Risha's daughter."
That thought took some time to process, but once it did, my breath caught in my throat. "Tell me it's not--"
"Trina. When she said she wanted to get the dagger for Tenger, she meant it literally."
"And if she becomes the Infidante, she'll put Tenger on the Scarlet Throne."
"That can't happen, Simon. Trina has to be stopped before that ceremony begins."
Was someone playing drums with my head? It felt that way. "You tried to touch the Blade and it rejected you. Maybe the same thing will happen to her."
"I'm Endrean. She's Risha's daughter. Trina has a better chance than anyone in that crowd."
I'd already been working at my knots, and so had Kestra, but neither of us were making any progress. I looked around for anything within reach that might cut the leather cord, but my sword was far out of reach, and we had the unfortunate luck of being in the cleanest cobbler's shop in all of Antora. That figured.
"Were there any tools left out on the workbench?" I asked. "Anything sharp?"
"I don't know. I wasn't paying attention to the bench."
I twisted my body around until I could fold my legs beneath me, and then hunched my back to bump the bench up in the air. It barely rose, but came down heavy enough that a few tools bumped with it. Nothing dropped to the floor.
"That ... wasn't fun." Something in my chest had just snapped, I was sure of it. Whatever Loelle had healed inside me was probably undone.
"Can you do it again? But keep it raised a little longer?"
"Do you know how heavy this bench is?"
"I'm not asking you to twirl it. Just keep it raised for three seconds."
I sighed. "I'll give you two."
By then, Kestra had scooted her hands as low to the ground as possible. When I raised the bench, she needed to swipe the leather cord beneath the bench leg. Two seconds. That was all I could do.
I drew in a deep breath, raised my legs higher than before, then lifted the bench with my back. It barely came off the ground, and even then I struggled with the weight.
"I got the cord beneath the leg, but it's pinched there," she said. "Higher!"
"You do it, then!" I grunted. But with one last effort, I raised it just enough that she could pull the cord free. I let the bench drop and then leaned back against the table leg, exhausted.
Somehow, my head hurt worse than before. The pounding had become an incessant rhythm at the base of my skull. I figured if I slept again now, I might never wake up.
Kestra stood and found a small round knife, one that might cut boot leather. She twisted it to the right angle behind her back to slice at the leather cord. Seconds later, she was free.
She knelt beside me and freed my arms, but I didn't move. "I can't go out there with you," I mumbled. "I'll slow you down."
"Will you be all right? I don't want to leave--"
"You have to stop them. I'll be fine. Just you ... be careful."
She smiled and leaned in for a quick kiss, then stood again and ran out the door. She wasn't gone more than five seconds before I cursed and forced myself to stand. Of every girl in Antora, why did I have to be falling so hard for her? I could've found a nice farm girl who'd spend her days making meat pies and milking our cows. I could've even chosen a Corack, someone who'd fight beside me--not against me. Of anyone, why Kestra?
Once I stumbled outside, I started toward the amphitheater. The crowd there was growing, and I couldn't see Kestra anywhere.
Down on the stage, Thorne was finishing up his explanation for the ceremony's procedure. It wasn't complicated. Anyone who wanted a chance to claim the dagger would be invited forward. They would introduce themselves to the audience, prove their blood as a Halderian, and then Thorne would decide the order in which people could attempt to claim it.
"As you know, my friends, the Olden Blade has a will of its own," Thorne said. "I do not choose the Infidante, nor can the Infidante select himself. The Blade will reject or choose its master on its own, and we must all follow that choice into battle. If you cannot accept these terms, I ask you to remove yourself from this gathering."
Thorne waite
d, and I watched for anyone to leave, but no one did. They might later regret that decision if Trina became the Infidante.
Thorne cleared his throat, then continued, "Since the Halderians have no living ruler, the first duty of the Infidante will be to select our king or queen. The heavens will honor their choice!"
I fingered the sword at my side. Trina would choose Tenger as king. Was I prepared to attack my own captain, a man I still believed was the right person to lead the rebellion? I would have to, if it came to that.
"All who wish to be tested, prepare yourselves!"
The audience cheered and a couple of larger men in the audience loudly boasted that they would claim the dagger. I tried to spot Trina or Tenger, but couldn't see either of them. Wherever they were, I knew Trina would be biding her time. She believed she was the Infidante, and maybe she was.
And where was Kestra? I couldn't see her either and hoped she had avoided finding trouble in the few steps between the amphitheater and the cobbler's shop. Knowing her, that was unlikely.
Murmurs began to spread in the audience as various people pointed out their candidates. Thorne waved his arms for silence, then continued, "Tonight we raise our hopes in honor of the Infidante, and bend our knees to a ruler. Who will it be?"
Now I found Trina. She was seated in the front row with the wrapped Blade on her lap, sitting as tall as if she were already the Infidante. She was skilled with a dagger and had great courage, even if it was sometimes misplaced. If she was successful tonight, I would have to honor that choice. Kestra would feel differently.
Finally, Thorne said, "This much is certain: Once the Olden Blade has chosen, it will light up, identifying the Infidante. At that point, there will be no doubt that we have Risha's successor, and the person tasked with the responsibility of killing Lord Endrick. Before any candidates put yourselves forward, I ask you to consider the weight of what you must do. Holding the Olden Blade is no guarantee you will survive Lord Endrick or his cruelty--for all her courage and strength, Risha didn't. The Blade will not keep you from hardships and trials; if anything, that dagger will bring them to you. You will take up the dagger, not to gain glory and honor for yourself, for you will likely receive neither. Despite all this, you must carry forward. For if you do not succeed, no one else will."
Thorne waited for his words to sink in before his command rang through the air: "Bring forth the Olden Blade."
On that cue, Trina finally emerged from the center of the crowd. Standing tall and proud, she walked onto the stage, holding the wrapped Blade in sacred fashion. Sudden movement in the upper part of the audience caught my eye. Kestra, without her hood on. She was pushing forward to get to Trina, but it was too late. Yet I noticed the determined expression on her face. This wasn't over.
Thorne set the wrapped Blade on a small table, then gently unfolded the cloth. He crouched down to study the Blade, his brow furrowing as he studied every detail of it. He stretched out a hand, letting it hover over the weapon, and closed his eyes as if attempting to feel any heat coming from it.
When he was satisfied, Thorne stood and announced to the crowd, "This is the Olden Blade!"
Trina stepped in front of him. "And I will claim it!"
I immediately began pushing my way into the crowd. Trina could be allowed her chance at the dagger, along with the other candidates. But the Halderians had to believe this was a fair process. They'd never join us otherwise.
"She has brought us the Olden Blade." Thorne's smile was forced and nervous, and anyone could detect the reluctance in his voice. "This girl took the risk of bringing it here. We will give her the first chance to claim it."
I had become lost in a crowd of Halderians pressing closer to the stage. For that reason, I only caught occasional glimpses of Trina, though I did hear her clearly announce, "You should all know me. I was born in a Halderian camp shortly before my mother's arrest, and grew up among some of you. My name is--"
"You are Trina!" a woman shouted from the crowd. "You were exiled from our people because of your Dominion father--he fought for Endrick!"
"Your father betrayed us!" a man shouted. "How dare a traitor's daughter attempt to claim that dagger?"
Trina's voice rose in pitch. "Because a traitor's wife first claimed it! Risha Halderian is my mother. In her honor, I have trained as a warrior; I understand the Endreans' dark powers and strategies. I will kill Lord Endrick, the last of the Endreans!"
Boos erupted from the audience, and someone threw a handful of rocks onto the stage. Trina dodged them and moved back, deeper onto the stage.
"You're a Corack," another man said. "You want to steal the throne that rightfully belongs to us!"
"I am a proud Corack," Trina said. "I've risked my life fighting Lord Endrick while you all hid away in the safety of this place. But I have never forgotten my Halderian blood."
"What of your Dominion blood?" another person shouted. "You can't be trusted any more than a Dallisor."
"A Dallisor is here tonight!" I followed the sound of Tenger's voice until I saw him in the audience with Kestra in his grip, her face pinched in anger. If Tenger tried something, I had no chance to get to her in time. A fine protector I was.
Tenger pushed Kestra forward through the audience, many of whom were already murmuring Kestra's name. She wasn't fighting him, and kept a clear focus on Trina. I understood now. She had wanted to be captured. She wanted to be taken to that stage, where she had access to Trina.
But her plan was going to backfire.
"That girl is no Dallisor!" a woman yelled. "I know the truth about her. This girl bears the blood of our enemy. She is Endrean!"
That clearly wasn't common knowledge. The initial uproar threatened to become a mob, with most people on their feet and directing their anger at either Kestra or Trina. She was standing tall, biting on one lip and looking around in case anyone tried to rush the stage.
Tenger stared at Kestra with his mouth hanging open, his face hardened with sudden coldness. Obviously, he had not known who Kestra was, but now that he knew, he must have been thinking of the Corack oath regarding Endreans.
"Kill the Endrean!" someone cried.
"No!" Thorne stepped to the center of the stage, waving his arms and trying to get their attention. "I tried to warn you three years ago. This girl will help us, as no one else can! We need her!"
But his voice was drowned out in the anger of the crowd. Tenger put a knife to Kestra's throat, weighing the choice of whether to heed the crowd's wishes before the ceremony or after.
Their chants rose in the air, until it was all I could hear. "Kill the Endrean. Kill the Endrean."
It didn't matter how high I arched my neck, Tenger's blade dug in deeper with every move I made. His grip on my arm was so tight he had cut off any feeling there. I doubted he truly wanted to kill me, but he might, if the Halderians kept this up. For them, my very existence was an injustice that should have been corrected three years ago. If Tenger did as they wanted, he would cement the bond between these two groups. He knew that better than anyone.
Thorne wasn't far away, but he couldn't help me now any more than he did three years ago. Besides, he had a bigger problem: Trina and the Olden Blade.
She stood in front of the dagger, clearly furious at having the attention turned away from her. But she was going to change that.
"Wait, Captain," she said. "First let me claim the Olden Blade. Then I'll take care of Kestra, proving my loyalty to the Halderians."
Tenger's knife lightened against my throat, though he pushed me to my knees and pinched a hand onto my shoulder. "If I'd known who you are, Endrean, you never would have made it this far," he muttered.
Well, this was a relief. Trina would kill me instead, immediately after claiming the Blade, which she was unqualified to wield. At least I wouldn't have to be around to see the havoc she would wreak on my country.
Antora was still my country, and I was amazed by the sudden realization that I wanted it to remain that way. Had
I betrayed it? Or had my country betrayed me? Would I die here as an enemy of Antora, or a martyr for it?
Above the continuing chants for my death, Thorne tried again. "My people, stop this madness! Kestra is our last hope! She--"
"No, I am your hope!" Trina shouted. "I am the daughter of Risha Halderian, heir to the Olden Blade, and your Infidante! This is my moment!"
With Tenger's nod of approval, Trina returned her attention to the dagger. The unruly audience shifted their attention to her, eager to see her reach for it.
Before she touched it, Thorne shouted, "Wait!"
Trina froze, but did not lower her hand. "Why?"
"Something is wrong," he said. "In the presence of so many Halderians, the Blade should have a faint glow about it, in anticipation of being claimed."
Now Trina pulled her hand away. "This is the true Olden Blade; I swear it is."
"I believe you," Thorne said to Trina. "This fits the description of the Olden Blade, and its nicks and scratches match those that were on Risha's dagger when we last saw it. However, we are certain it should glow for the Infidante."
Tenger leaned forward, staring at the dagger as if silently commanding it to glow. I doubted he could stare hard enough for a blade of magic to care what he thought.
"Maybe she broke it," I mumbled.
"This girl is a fraud!" a woman shouted. "Trina Halderian is not worthy of the Olden Blade!"
"No!" she shouted. "I am the Infidante! I will prove it to you!"
She put her hand onto the dagger's handle, and although she pulled away at first, she gripped it again and her face immediately twisted into a grimace. I knew exactly how much it was hurting her, but she refused to let go. It was a warning: Release the handle or it would kill her.
"This is mine!" she shouted. She tried to lift the dagger, to hold it aloft as a victor might do, but the dagger refused to move from its place on the table. I brushed my fingers across my palm. The burn had faded a little but would never go away entirely.
And now the Blade was burning her too. It was rejecting her. How could she not be the Infidante, I wondered, considering who her mother was?
"Her traitor blood is killing her!" someone called from the audience.
"I claim this dagger!" Somehow still able to speak, Trina had fallen to her knees and lines of pain were etched across her face. "I thought ... I don't understand ..."