A Trial of the Heart (Valdor #2)

Chapter Seventeen

T he training grounds of the Silver Meadows warriors would be my new home for the next two months. It reminded me of my pack lands in Solace, pulling at a longing to see the shoreline of my home once again.

Scattered patches of trees lined our dirt pathway from the Summit, opening into a massive clearing encircled by waist-high stone walls at each corner of the grass area. Inside, there was a long target range for archers, sparring rings for hand-to-hand combat, and racks of different swords, spears, and countless other weapons for battle practice. This was hands down two, perhaps even five times larger than our training field outside the alpha’s home. Beyond the stone walls, secluded in the nearby towering trees, were multi-level barracks for soldiers with outdoor bathing areas near the small creek that flowed from the main river. A narrow, covered structure lay in the center of the living quarters with numerous tables and scattered benches for a mess hall.

Countless High Fae warriors scattered the thick pine-wooded area, practicing various combat skills and weaponry. Some were in stone-gray training clothes, and a large grouping of others wore black lined with silver. There was a clear divide between the two, and I couldn’t help but notice I was labeled as a trainee or cadet with my stone-gray shirt and pants.

Males and females in black training attire with silver-threaded designs earned the title of Silver Meadows warriors. One peak on their shoulder meant they had conquered the Ice Gauntlet and could march into battle within the ranks. The second peak was received in victory, and the third was earned when you defended your people, bringing honor to Silver Meadows and those they had sworn to protect.

Off toward the edge of the training grounds, the Ice Gauntlet towered over us—the assessment tool used to determine if a cadet or anyone brave enough was worthy of marching into battle with the banner of a Silver Meadows warrior. The daunting obstacle course was carved into the mountainside with sheer rock cliffs leading to different levels higher and higher up. I didn’t know why, but the challenge of the Ice Gauntlet was tempting.

Oh, so gods-damned tempting . I couldn’t keep my eyes off it while Daxton led me to our sparring area that morning. I didn’t know if the challenge itself was driving me and my animal’s competitive spirit or if it was a secret desire to prove to myself that I might just be worthy of enough for… well, for a lot of things.

Stupid idea? Quite possibly. But then again, it could also be brilliant.

“There’s a rotation between two outposts that guard my realm,” Daxton said as we made our way through the training grounds. “One is here at the western side of the mountains in Silver Meadows, and the other two are further north. The northernmost outpost is adjacent to the Aelius territory, and the other borders the wilt on the western side of the Inner Kingdom. The warriors rotate every two weeks.”

“So, for a month, they’re away from Silver Meadows?”

Daxton nodded as we approached a clearing. “The two weeks here are less rigorous for those on distant patrol. I manage a smaller section that always guards the Summit and the city borders. My warriors on patrol are ordered to rest, recuperate, and spend time with their families if they decide to have them when they return.”

“That is generous,” I stated.

“I ask them to leave everything behind for a month and risk their lives. It is only fair that I grant them half that time back in return for their service. When war becomes a way of life, and you don’t know anything different, you make the best of what you have.”

“Do warriors volunteer for these rotating outposts? Or is it preferred that they remain here in your personal guard?”

“On the contrary,” Daxton snickered, “it’s hard to keep them away from the northern patrols. Those who desire to become Silver Meadows warriors are dedicated to a cause greater than themselves. In their eyes, it is an honor to fight, defend, and die in battle protecting their home if the Gods deem it necessary.”

“And this has been the protocol for …”

“For the past five hundred years. Ever since the wilt appeared, and every day, we are thankful to see the next.”

“Five hundred years,” I muttered to myself, unable to comprehend how much time that was to be living in a constant state of dread and fear. Always on guard. Always willing and ready to fight. “So, what keeps the wilt from progressing? From it reaching Silver Meadows?”

“When it began, Minaeve placed magical wards at our outpost along the wilt border that I must replenish with my magic, or else the decay spreads along with the hordes of harpies, hounds, and unnamed dark creatures that would keep any sane person awake at night.” He stilled for a moment, glancing sideways at me. “We must keep the occasional fallen at bay too. We have to be cautious. If too many were to gather, they could overpower the ward and destroy it.”

“You all have been fighting for so long.” I looked out into the forest surrounding the training area beneath the Ice Gauntlet. The vertical obstacle course built into the mountainside itself seemed impossible. “How do all of you do this? For five hundred years, you’ve not given up fighting a plague that threatens to swallow you whole.”

The look on Daxton’s face hid a dark truth, one that damn near broke my heart to see written in the hidden tells on his face. Daxton quickly recovered, turning toward me with an odd stillness, and gave me a half-smile to try and comfort me but also himself. “We’ve experienced downfalls and difficulties, but there is no other choice. We keep fighting, or we die.”

“Surprised you’re admitting to a lack of perfection,” I teased, trying to lighten his mood.

He chuckled, softening his gaze and hardened exterior, allowing me to see beyond the Silver Shadow stigma. “I’ve built a strong circle of friends that I have been able to lean on in my darkest times.”

I saw the pain and regret flash for the briefest second in his eyes. A dark truth about his hardships, one that I recognized in Shaw when he said he would take my place in the trials .

Gods above …

“But in the last handful of years, especially the past few months, we’ve been given a reason to hope for something better. And that, Skylar, has been the most powerful breath of life we could ask for.” Our eyes locked, and I swear if we didn’t need to keep our distance, I would have leaped into his arms without a second thought.

“Did I just hear my high prince give a compliment without blood or flesh being scraped off the battlefield or training ring?” A playful-sounding voice echoed as a tall, striking High Fae male warrior in black training leathers stepped into view with three mountain peaks on his shoulder. “I think pigs have begun to fly.”

Daxton rolled his eyes. “Are you saying you’d like to go flying today, Gunnar? Because that can be arranged after I chase your ass up the Ice Gauntlet and throw you from the top.”

Gunnar clicked his tongue, crossing his thick muscular arms at his chest as a large, cunning smile spanned his clean-shaven face. “If you think you can still beat me. I believe your years are catching up to you, Dax, and you’re becoming slow .” His dark brown eyes squinted, giving him a playful facade that contrasted with the hard tattoo markings around the side of his half-shaved head, continuing just below the base of his throat. The silver mountains on his uniform mirrored the tattoos on the right side of his head, and a circle of gilded thorns rested in the center of his chest, sporting an arrow and sword crossed over each other in black ink. The top half of his head revealed silver-trimmed hair streaking through long dark brown locks braided into a tight bun.

Daxton narrowed his gaze as his jaw muscles ticked. “I believe I’ve been gone too long if you think you can beat me up the Gauntlet. Is no one around here up to the task of challenging you properly? And here I thought you were succeeding in your role as my weapons master and general of my armies.”

“Hard to curb perfection,” Gunnar snickered.

“Indeed,” Daxton said in a low, calm voice that had even his trusted general taking a step back.

“Gunnar?” I asked, tilting my head around Daxton to get a better look at the High Fae warrior I’d heard about on the Opal .

“In the flesh,” he said, uncrossing his arms and giving me a beaming smile.

“About to be beaten out of his flesh is more like it,” Daxton growled, “if he keeps this attitude up.”

“You mean the high ego… and the air of arrogance?” I asked, lifting my brow at Dax. “Sounds oddly familiar. I wonder where he gets it from?”

Gunnar burst out laughing. “Oh, you are my new favorite person, little shifter.”

I recalled that Gunnar was orphaned as a child, rising in the military ranks, and holding the title of the youngest to enter the Ice Gauntlet and succeed. Earning Castor and Daxton’s trust through his service and battle, he became third in command of Silver Meadows. He was also general of Daxton’s armies, and he had stepped in to oversee their realm for the past months while they were away.

“I don’t recall ever being nicknamed little after my growth spurt at thirteen and becoming one of the tallest females in my pack,” I countered.

“Well, standing next to Daxton, everyone is little ,” Gunnar said, stepping forward to give me a once-over. “I guess little is an understatement. You’re just about as tall as me—I’ll give you that. Odd though … I thought shifters were smaller. ”

“And exactly how many shifters have you met before?”

“Quick on the wit. Beauty and brains,” Gunnar purred with a wink. “I bet you keep Daxton here on his toes… as well as on his—”

“That’s more than enough,” Daxton growled. “Skylar, this is Gunnar. My general, and believe it or not, a trusted friend. His smart remarks might have cost him that pretty head of his years ago if he had not rightfully earned his station.”

“Another compliment!” Gunnar beamed, widening his grin. “Pigs are soaring above our heads… I knew today would be a good one.” Daxton didn’t seem amused, but he also didn’t lash out. “All right, in all seriousness now…”

“Can you manage that?” Daxton rebutted in a low tone with his eyebrows arched. His grimace held a twinge of amusement, but I wondered if many others could detect it.

“Believe it or not, I can,” Gunnar answered without missing a step. “That’s why you keep me around. I remind the warriors to loosen up when we can.”

“And surprise them when your skills as my top-seated warrior are put to action. Yes, I’m aware. I taught you how to balance it all.”

“But I perfected it.” Gunnar grinned as Daxton shook his head, hiding a glimmer of pride in his expression.

Daxton turned to me, placing a hand discreetly on the small of my back. Any onlookers would easily write off the soft touch, but it sent goosebumps racing across my skin like lightning. “Don’t let Gunnar’s entertaining personality fool you. He’s one of the most skilled warriors in the Inner Kingdom and experienced instructors. He’ll assess and begin your training while I attend to our recruits and other meetings with the Dryads outside the city today. I’ll see you after your assessment is done.”

“You won’t be training me yourself?” I asked in disappointment.

“I want Gunnar to assess your skills and offer additional insight into where we focus your training against the creature in the next trial. Once this is done, then yes, of course, I will assist in your training exercises.”

“All right. Until tonight, then. Will I see you later in the library?”

“Wouldn’t miss it.” Daxton gave me a soft smile as he stepped back to teleport away. His absence left me in limbo momentarily before shaking my head and pivoting back toward Gunnar.

“All right, little shifter. Let’s see what you can do and where your training needs to start,” Gunnar said, guiding me toward an array of weapons.

His black training clothes were loose-fitting around his broad chest, highlighting a warmer skin tone that paired nicely with his dark brown, silver-streaked hair.“What experience do you have in killing a creature of death, in combat?”

“Quick to the point. How refreshing,” I answered. “I was an archer and scout in my pack, but I learned self-defense early in my youth. My uncle thought it was essential that we learn how to defend ourselves and fight in our human forms and animals … once we shifted.”

“Smart, I like the male already. What weapons are you comfortable with? ”

“I prefer a bow and arrow, along with shorter swords and daggers. I’m not as comfortable wielding weapons like Daxton’s sword.”

“Valencia is a beast in its own right.”

“Valencia?”

“The sword of Silver Meadows. Valencia is an enchanted weapon that only Daxton or those of his house can call to wield. It never dulls, is sharp as fuck, and is an extremely lethal weapon with its own power for whoever wields it,” Gunnar said. “Seamus has eyed it for years, but the mind-fucker will never be able to wield it.”

“Why would Seamus think he could use it if it is enchanted for only Daxton’s house?”

“Their mother was—”

“Of Aelius,” I finished for him. “Dax told me about his parents.”

Gunnar gave me an impressed nod before continuing, “She was a descendant of Seamus’s family line. Not direct, more like a third cousin. So naturally, Seamus thought it could extend to him. But that’s not how the sword works; it requires a direct descendant or connection.” Gunnar casually stretched out his arms, rolling his thick shoulders as we walked. “For all his shortfalls, however, the High Prince of Aelius would be one fucking hell of a fight if I had to face him; I’ll give him that.”

“How does the sword work then? Could Castor summon it?” We strode to the target range on the far side of the training field near the waist-height stone wall.

“Castor could, but it wouldn’t work as well.” Gunnar stepped toward the weapons rack and retrieved a bow and arrows in a quiver for me. “Daxton holds the title and power of a high prince. The sword recognizes the power he commands, and even though Queen Minaeve siphons most of it away and he refuels our wards along with Adohan’s on occasion—”

“Wait, what?”

Gunnar’s eyes widened, and he turned his lips inward, biting them with a scowl. “Shit, you didn’t know that bit, did you? Dammit. It’s hard to keep these secrets when Daxton told us about…”

“About what?” I asked, strapping a quiver to my back and holding the bow steady in my left hand.

“About…” Gunnar looked like he was on the verge of exploding. He was definitely not the best at keeping secrets. “About things I can’t share.” I glared at him but surprisingly kept my questions to myself and didn’t push him for answers… for now. “All right, enough about Valencia and all these other side topics… let’s see what skills you have with this.”

I nocked an arrow and aimed at the target approximately eighty yards away across the field. Concentrating on my breathing, I steadied my hand and pulled back on the fletching, anchoring my right hand beneath my jaw adjacent to a nock in my ear—the same place I always drew. I stilled, exhaled, and released the fletching, watching the arrow soar and hiss through the air, landing with a thud as it sank in the middle, just where I aimed it.

“Impressive,” Gunnar said.

I nocked another two arrows, sending them flying to the target, landing above and below the first. “I could split the shaft in two at this range, but I’ve lost far too many good arrows performing that trick.”

“Really?” Gunnar’s brows rose with a sheepish grin. “Cocky much?”

“Confident,” I answered, releasing a fourth arrow to create a diamond-shaped grouping .

“But… can you still make that shot with enemies on all sides and running through battle?”

“And how do you intend to simulate that?”

He grinned all too eagerly as if the assessment and the topic of wargames were playthings to him. “Oh, I have my ways, but that’s for later. Today, we begin with the basics. Luck is completing a task once, but true skill is being able to repeat a successful task more than once.”

“Even if I tried this at night, I would still hit my target without faltering.”

“Aren’t we challenging Castor’s level of arrogance now?”

“No,” I countered, drawing the fifth arrow and firing it in the center of the other four, completing my design. “I’m just confident.”

Thanks to countless hours of practice with Magnus and working through training courses to perfect my skillset, I had earned my weapon and my place as a scout within my pack. Rhea might have the upper hand with daggers, while Shaw, Gilen, and Talon all surpassed in sparring and the use of other larger weaponry, but I always excelled with my bow.

“I shot Daxton and almost killed him the first time I met him,” I added.

“He did mention that,” Gunnar said, holding his hand out for my bow, his expression morphing into a serious scowl laced with a warning. “Despite my humor, I’m fond of and fiercely loyal to my high prince. Hearing that he was almost killed…”

“Noted.” I nodded, dipping my head.

Gunnar’s hard smile stretched across his clean face. “Good—let’s move on. Now that we know what you are good with … let’s put your skills with the other weapons to the test. ”

For the rest of the morning and the better part of the day, Gunnar assessed my abilities with daggers, a long sword, and other smaller blades utilized in battle. As I predicted, my skill with the long sword was far from perfect, but at least I wasn’t a complete novice.

Gunnar said he was confident that if I was in a tight spot, he could rely on me to put the pointed end through an enemy. I glared at him at first but ultimately laughed at his remark. He had a unique way of making me feel at ease even though I was struggling through portions of his evaluation. I had to remind myself that even though I felt like I was failing … the trials were not war. I wasn’t training to be a warrior on the front lines.

I doubted I would ever physically outmatch fighters such as Daxton, Gunnar, or even Castor without shifting into my animal form. Well, as long as my animal wasn’t a songbird or a small house cat. They had centuries of training under their belts compared to my twenty-two years. I had to be realistic. Even if I secretly wanted to prove myself in the Ice Gauntlet, it might not be the best idea.

The evening was approaching, and my gray training clothes were thoroughly soaked through with sweat and a few spots of blood from the split lip Gunnar gave me on the mat. It was 100 percent my fault for not reacting to his counter in time, and my lip, along with other bruises, would be a good reminder to stay one step ahead of my opponent when it mattered.

“How’s the lip and chin feeling?” Gunnar asked as he sank next to me on the grass, handing me a canteen filled with ice-cold water from the nearby river runoff.

“I’ve had worse… and I imagine there’s still more to come.” I took a long swig from the canteen, pr actically draining the contents. “This is helpful, though. Thanks.”

“No problem. I imagine the life of a shifter or champion, in your case, is not an easy path to follow.”

“No, it definitely hasn’t been,” I replied, glancing down at the three eight-pointed stars on my left arm. Ever since I’d made the choice to become the champion, my life had been anything but easy. “Capture, torture, death, recovery, adventure, attacked again, and… the trial of the mind. I could go on, but I’m sure you’ve heard all this by now.”

Gunnar leaned back onto his hands and extended his legs out in front of him in a relaxed position. “Yesterday, Daxton informed us briefly of what you’ve gone through, yes.” He paused for a moment, catching my attention. “But I always prefer firsthand encounters. It isn’t the same secondhand. And it isn’t healthy to bottle up what you are feeling and let it explode. Talking about it helps the healing.”

“Personal experience?”

“Absolutely.” Gunnar grinned.

“Daxton has been… He’s been there for me each step of the way since that night in the meadow. I’ve been able to confide in him more than anyone.” Gunnar’s smile grew wider as the corners of his brown eyes softened—something lurking behind that cheerful grin.

“What? What is it?” This was a different male from the general who had thrown me around and taken me to the dirt a few moments earlier.

“Nope.” Gunnar gestured with his palms facing me. “Not my place. No way am I stepping into that.”

“Not your place for what? There’s something you’re not telling me. ”

“Damn right, there is. But understand this,” he added, leaning toward me and lowering his voice, “I may play the lighthearted, humorous role, but I also know when to keep my mouth shut. This is one of those moments.”

I rolled my eyes. “Fantastic. You’re going to be zero help.”

“With regards to that ? Abso-fucking-lutely. But regarding your training assessment, I believe I do have some news that will lift your spirits.”

“Really?”

He glanced backward toward the base of the mountain, where the Ice Gauntlet lay in wait. “I think that ,” he said, gesturing behind us, “is exactly what you need to prepare for the trial.”

“Really?” I questioned with eager, wide eyes. “Seriously?”

“I’ve noticed you eyeballing and practically drooling over it since you stepped foot into the training grounds.” I practically squealed with glee. “You’re not afraid of a challenge—good. Having the Ice Gauntlet as your training goal will help you defeat whatever creature you’re up against. You’ll need stamina, to be quick, agile, balanced, and strong enough to defeat this beast. The Ice Gauntlet will challenge all this and more.”

I turned and glanced up at the obstacle course built into the mountain. “Fuck, yes. I want to run the Ice Gauntlet.” I couldn’t help it… I loved this idea. This course was the best way to test my physical limitations and prepare me for the battle with the beast.

“Um… care to repeat that decision, Gunnar?” Castor’s tone was unmistakable. “You want a half-shifter whose animal hasn’t emerged yet to take on the most difficult assessment in the Inner Kingdom? Come on, Da xton, tell me you agree with me and not Gunnar on this.”

I turned and glanced near the tree line to find Daxton shirtless and downright delectable, likely fresh from his training session with the other cadets he had told me about earlier.

“What do you want to do, Spitfire?” he asked, knowing my answer, a half-smirk growing at the corner of his mouth.

“Spitfire?” Gunnar muttered to himself. “That’s endearing.”

Ignoring Gunnar, I smiled at Daxton, recognizing the tempting defiance in his silver-gray eyes. He wanted me to do this. He also believed that the challenge of the Gauntlet would be the perfect tool to push my training. “I want to run the Ice Gauntlet.”

“But this is an unnecessary risk! Magic does not work on the course. If she falls, you cannot teleport in to save her!” Castor pleaded. “Trainees die running it.”

“She won’t die in the Gauntlet,” Daxton answered. His smoldering gaze bore into mine, heat flaring in his eyes as his excitement for me rose. “Skylar is too stubborn for an obstacle course to kill her. She’s defeated the trial of the mind. I do not doubt her ability to figure out the course and complete it in a faster time than yours, brother.” Castor scowled.

My grin grew even wider, ignoring the pain of the split on my lip and jumping to my feet. “Let’s get started then!” I shouted, tracing my gaze toward the looming challenge I desperately wanted to conquer.

“Tomorrow,” Gunnar said.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” I turned to him with a confused look.

Gunnar rose to stand next to me. “Believe it or not, there is a balance to life—even when you’re a champion of the trials—and I’ve been kicking your shifter ass all over the ring today.” He leaned in and sniffed the air around me. “You also need a bath.”

“You mean in everything besides… archery ,” I countered, pushing him away. “Sorry, this is what hard work smells like. Must be new to you?”

Gunnar laughed. “Yes, well, I admit… that was surprising. I understand now why you were able to catch this one off guard and drill him with an arrow through the chest. I would decorate that mark and wear it as a symbol of luck if it were me, and then…” Daxton looked at Gunnar without saying a word, and the general stopped mid-sentence. “Like I said—balance. You need to recover if you plan on training for the Ice Gauntlet.”

I glanced between them, trying to decipher Daxton’s silent command, but I couldn’t figure it out.

“To the library then,” I announced. “We still need to figure out what I’m facing in the next trial.”

“Finally, there’s a hint of the common sense I have been accustomed to.” Castor sighed. “You know, you could have come out of the shadows and helped end this matter.”

I glanced toward the shade along the tree line, and the outline of a female figure stepped forward. The dark brown skin with wisps of black markings and ebony eyes were unmistakable.

“Zola! I didn’t even know you were here!”

True to her shadow-jumper-spying nature, Zola held no emotion in her expression, but she gave me a small nod, which I took to be the same as a giant hug or greeting from Idris. I would take it. “Glad to see you alive, Champion.”

“Really, you didn’t know?” Gunnar asked me. “Who did you think I was conspiring with for my assessments? ”

My eyes widened. I had no idea she was watching us the entire day. But then again, I wasn’t looking for her or anyone else lurking in the shadows trying to spy on us. I turned my lips inward, mulling over the fact that I had let my guard down in one of the most dangerous places I had ever been. Even though I was comfortable here, danger lurked around every corner, and I needed to be on my guard at all times.

“Don’t be too hard on yourself, Skylar. It’s my job to be unseen,” Zola said.

Castor cleared his throat. “I thought you were with…”

“Nyssa,” Zola said, cutting Castor’s question short. She said the name like it was some kind of code, “is comfortable with the scribes in the archives tower.”

I glanced at Castor to try and assess his mood, but I knew whatever he was truly feeling was likely tucked away in the corner of his calculating mind. He was never one to show his hand early if he had the choice.

“Nyssa,” Castor repeated the name slowly, his expression turning somber as he looked down at his feet for a moment, deep in thought.

“She asks about you.” Castor’s eyes widened, but Zola averted her gaze away from him and straight to me.

“Me?” I asked, pointing a finger at my chest. “I don’t believe I know any Nyssa…”

Zola flashed me a look that read, Are you fucking kidding me, shifter ? Get your head out of the sand and figure it out.

In utter embarrassment, I suddenly realized that she was talking about the fallen fae I’d healed. “Oh, Nyssa!” I exclaimed. “Sorry, names and places get jumbled when you are put through a labyrinth of literal mental torture,” I shot back, and Zola flashed me a half- smirk of approval once more as she shifted in her black leathers, meticulously counting the daggers sheathed along her chest like it was second nature.

“You’ve spoken with her then?” Castor asked.

“I’ve taught her to sign with the help of the scribes. Those bookworms are caring in a way I can never understand. And the female attendants have officially taken her under their wing, shooing me out before one of my knives tore through another of their precious ancient scrolls.” Zola sighed. “That, in my opinion, had nothing of worth on them anyway. It’s not my fault that one time three hundred years ago, I was using some for much-needed target practice while being cooped up in their tower.”

“I barely saved you from their wrath… Not my easiest years pleading with the scribes to grant you sanctuary and getting you back into their good graces,” Daxton added. “You do remember why we hid you in there, right?”

“That prickly cunt … Anjani. Yes, I remember. The archives are warded, so no magic works inside,” Zola said, turning to me. “I can’t shadow-jump. You can’t teleport or use your ice magic. Castor can’t see, and Anjani can’t manipulate anything. It was a good plan.”

“Don’t sound too surprised,” Dax said, but Zola only glared at him.

“My warriors were on patrol day and night until we finally chased her out of Silver Meadows. Her desire for your head for the trick you pulled on her was…”

“She deserved it,” Zola snarled.

“Never said she didn’t. Anjani is unnerving and slightly twisted, if not insane.” Gunnar shivered and shook his shoulders, his hand tracing over a scar along his arm. “She can make it seem like you’re living your worst nightmare… and then laughs as your soul is torn apart with grief.”

“She sounds like a real peach,” I added.

“I brought Idris and Adohan to the door of the archives, and they allowed Adohan entrance… with his mate carried in his arms, of course. Adohan wanted me to make sure you knew they were taking your recommendation seriously,” Zola said.

“That’s good,” I answered with relief as my stomach grumbled.

Daxton’s smirk curled at the side of his delectable mouth, which I desperately wanted to taste again. Hell, I was on the verge of forgoing food if it meant I could be alone with him inside the Summit and have his lips crashing into mine with his tongue devouring me with savage, unrelenting strokes. His kisses from the library last night were light and comforting, but I craved more from him.

“We haven’t shown you the kitchens yet, have we, Spitfire?” Daxton grinned. “I should’ve shown that to you first.”

“No, and that’s a shame because I want to help earn my keep while I’m here. I can bake or help with meals.” Dax gave me a look that said, really?

“We have cooks and attendants that work inside the Summit, Skylar. That won’t be necessary,” Castor replied.

“What my brother means to say,” Daxton interjected, “is that you don’t have to earn your keep while you’re here. Remember, you are the champion of the trials, and it is us who are tasked with looking after you. But whatever you would like to do, we’ll do our best to accommodate your needs.”

“I can take care of myself,” I stated .

“I recall,” Daxton said in a low voice, his eyes shimmering with a dark intention, recalling our night on the Opal .

I raised my brow and slightly bit my bottom lip, remembering how his magic danced over my skin. How even with a barrier between us, he was able to have that kind of effect on me.

“All this finery and whatnot are lost on me, and I’m happy to help pull my own weight around here.”

“Hmm.” Gunnar glided out from behind me. “Refreshing that she has the mindset of a warrior, Dax.”

“I’m aware,” Daxton answered. “Let’s get you cleaned up and then venture off to the library with some food. Once we decide where to begin our research, we can discuss how you can pull your own weight. With your training sessions being the primary focus, our time is limited.”

“I’ll take that compromise.” I gave him a knowing look that said even though I agreed, I wasn’t going to back down and cave to his request so easily. Alas, much to my displeasure, Daxton was right.

Over the next three weeks, I didn’t have time to help in the kitchens, let alone think or do anything but prepare for the second trial. In the mornings, after falling asleep over a folded book in the library or in the corner chaise with one on my chest, I ate breakfast and then raced out to meet Gunnar. Half the time, Daxton teleported me to the training fields, encouraging me to eat a more robust meal before I was thrown off one obstacle or the next.

My body ached, and my muscles were strained from the rigorous high-intensity interval training Gunnar had designed especially for me. It was his own specialized kind of torture that was “good for me.” After the first two weeks, he was so pleased with my increased stamina and endurance that he insisted Daxton add this to the workouts for their new recruits. With all my training, however, I hadn’t even touched the Ice Gauntlet yet.

I was promised, soon. Whatever the heck that meant. All I knew was that despite all our research, the answer to the riddle of the beast was still a mystery.

Idris and Adohan worked meticulously in the ancient archives, with the scribes carefully pulling different scrolls for them to read. It was a painstakingly slow process but a task that thankfully kept them both busy.

We each took a piece of the riddle and searched through folklore and history books to try and identify what beast I was going to face. I took the lead in researching the line: To look upon my white crest is to know true death White crest. I knew it had to be a physical trait of the creature, but the line about death was a mystery.

Daxton identified the cliffs near the sea where the monster likely lived, and soon, someone would have to venture out there with the key to see if there was any sign of the entrance. I had only five more weeks to complete training for this trial.