Shadow Fall

by Audrey Grey

  One foot in front of the other.

  The mood in the room lightens as she nears the end. The finalists all seem to hold their breath. Someone yells to tell her she’s almost there. Her mouth breaks into a wide, relieved smile. She’s going to make it.

  And maybe she thinks she’s already there, or maybe the words distracted her. Dust rains down on our upturned faces as her bare foot slips down the side of the rafter. She makes a strange squeaking noise. For a moment I think she’s going to catch herself, but then her body topples sideways, and there’s no way for her to recover.

  It is surreal, watching her fall. Irrationally I think she’ll be okay. There will be a net or some other type of safety device to catch her. Maybe she’ll simply break a leg and they can mend it.

  For the briefest of seconds, her beautiful green dress plumes out behind her like rich, silken wings. I think someone screams. Then Brinley crashes on the table closest to the wall with a loud, sickening thump. Curled on her side, one bare foot sticking out, she could be sleeping.

  I look away. She is not okay. Not sleeping. She cannot be fixed. My heart flutters sideways in my chest, and I feel close to vomiting.

  The lesson is clear: Here, bravery kills you.

  I hazard a look at Riser. From his deadly stillness, the way his hands clench and unclench, I gather he’s either enraged or afraid. My bet’s on the former.

  And now both of us will have to endure the same.

  Hugo stands near the table, coldly observing Brinley. It seems, now that I think about it, it was Hugo who yelled to her.

  The body is taken away, and someone wipes down the table. No one talks as the Emperor laughs quietly from his invisible throne above.

  They have broken us.

  I know as soon as Delphine walks toward my table she will choose me. Her plump, heart-shaped lips are molded into a smirk. Since Brinley, no one else has chosen risk. So when I choose it, my words coming out clear and confident, her pale eyes flit over me again, her lips parted slightly. I get the feeling she doesn’t particularly enjoy surprises.

  Thing is, I should be afraid. Even with all of Nicolai’s modifications, whatever Delphine has in store for me is undoubtedly dangerous. But now all I see is the cruel little girl who tormented and disfigured me. She thinks we are bugs that will sit compliantly while she tears off our wings for pleasure.

  That is her mistake.

  Holding my head high, I jump to the ground. My vision spins a bit and the beginnings of a headache nip at my temples, but otherwise I feel okay.

  Delphine crosses her arms. A small frown trembles across her face. “And who might you be, Bronze?”

  Now that I’ve had practice, my curtsies are improving, and I’m rather proud of the sweeping one I give now. “Lady Everly March.”

  My faux-confidence must throw Delphine off, because she hesitates. Apparently I’m spoiling her fun. Then her face lights up. “Do you like apples, Lady March?”

  “Sure,” I say, carefully.

  “Perfect.” Scanning the finalists, she finds what she’s looking for in Merida. “And you, Lady . . . ?”

  “Pope,” Merida says in a soft, hesitant voice. Her face is pale, and her body seems to waver just standing, as if she might faint at any moment.

  “Lady Pope, how do you feel about the crossbow?”

  Merida emits a nervous laugh. “If I am being honest, Countess, the crossbow eludes me even on the best of days. My cousin, Rhydian, is much—”

  “No.” The giddy smile on Delphine’s face chills my blood. “You will do just fine.”

  Except she won’t, because she isn’t fine. Partially dried vomit crusts the bodice of her dress and her hair. Bloodshot eyes roll loose inside her pale, drooping head. I had no doubt that whatever Delphine threw at me I would be successful. But Merida is soft. Merida is weak. Merida is drunk.

  And now drunk, soft, weak Merida is going to kill me.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  The head table sits on a raised dais at the front of the hall. Shadow Fall is nearly done, and faint red and blue shafts pierce the stained lead glass, coloring my arms a bizarre bluish-red. Merida is standing on one end of the table, and I at the other, with twenty feet between us. Merida keeps fixing me with her big, wobbly, apologetic eyes, but I ignore her. I need her to focus, and pity won’t do that.

  But perhaps anger will.

  Riser stands with the others on the four tables. I let myself glance at him once. He seemed about to leap off the table and go on a murderous spree, so I haven’t made eye contact since. I am standing here, feeling my confidence erode, when Caspian comes to my side. He’s taken something from one of the Chosen Delphine sent my way—an apple—and he leans close as he hands it to me.

  “I’m sorry, Lady March,” he says in a soft voice, “but you will have to place this in your mouth.”

  I twirl the apple inside my hand. It’s perfect. Fragrant and shiny and reddish green, with hard, waxy skin. “Well, how else would I eat it?”

  A flicker of emotion. It’s fascination, I realize, as Caspian leans in close enough I can smell his salty, leather smell, as if he’s just left a saddle. “You are not afraid?”

  “Have you seen the state of my friend over there?” I cast a glance at Merida who’s just nearly stumbled off the table and is being held steady. “I’m terrified. But displaying my fear won’t make her aim any truer.”

  His fascination has morphed into begrudging respect. “As much as I hate to say this, we both know you are going to be injured. But I promise you, if you survive your wounds, I will have you treated by our physicians. You have my word.”

  It’s a tempting proposition. But I’m playing the long game, and for that I need to stay in the trials. Simply surviving for a few more days is not an option. “You can do me something better. Pass a message along to Lady Merida.”

  Caspian pauses for a moment. This is shaky ground, and I may have overstepped my bounds. But then Caspian frowns and gives a quick nod.

  “Tell her: Remember the day you found him. Remember how you felt, and use it.”

  Despite his puzzled expression, Caspian stays true to his word. After he is finished whispering into Merida’s ear, I look for signs she understands. Nothing. Maybe I was wrong and it wasn’t Merida who found Rhydian. Perhaps she’s just too scared to feel anything else. Delphine has been watching our interaction, her eyes narrowed. A sour look poisons her face.

  A Chosen boy is handing the crossbow to Merida when Delphine stops him. “Wait.” She replaces the crossbow with a goblet brimming with deep-burgundy liquid and grins. “For your nerves.”

  Merida gulps it quickly. Probably her adrenaline has masked the taste.

  When I see what Delphine has for Merida next, I know using Caspian must have pissed Delphine off. And pissing off the Countess Delphine has severe consequences, apparently.

  Delphine ties the blindfold around Merida’s eyes herself. Caspian purses his lips and looks away as I unhinge my jaw and wedge the apple between my teeth. My jaw aches. If I had any saliva left, it would be impossible to swallow. Delphine thrusts the crossbow into Merida’s tentative, reaching hands. The hall goes deathly quiet all at once. The light twinkles off the slender golden arrow in the center of the crossbow as Merida’s arm wavers under the weapon’s heft. She nearly drops it, but then her hand clenches tight and the arrow tip stabilizes at my belly button.

  Any hope I had left vanishes.

  I can’t make up my mind whether to close my eyes or leave them open. Closed, I decide, in case I flinch. What will happen if she misses altogether? Will she continue until some body part is impaled? I don’t think my bladder or my heart can handle multiple tries.

  My jaw is on fire. My heart beats so hard inside my chest that my body jolts to its rhythm. I focus on that. The raspy sound of air coursing through my nasal passages and throat. I’m amazed at the calmness that has descended. Every second, every breath, every heartbeat is elongated until they converge into a pattern
.

  And that’s when I notice it. Merida’s breathing. It’s calm and even too . . .

  Twang.

  Everything stops, as if my body has hit pause. And then I draw in a ragged breath, the apple releases from my teeth, and I open my eyes to see it rolling lopsided down the steps, the golden arrow protruding from its center.

  Merida slips off her blindfold. She nods at me, just slightly, but I think she means to thank me for what I had Caspian say. Clapping whispers through the hall. It grows to a loud thrum, finalists stamping their boots on the tables. I’m pretty sure I have ruined Nicolai’s plan for me, but that cannot be helped.

  The clapping abruptly dies as Delphine ascends the steps, the back of her gown swishing on the stone. Although her eyes, by now practiced at duplicity, look indifferent, her mouth puckers as if she has tasted something rotten.

  My heart drops. A large, black, ivory-handled revolver sits in her hand. It must be heavy because when Delphine passes it to Merida she can barely hold it up.

  “But, she passed,” Merida protests, thinking it is for me.

  “No, dear,” Delphine says, each word dripping glorious smugness, “it’s not for the lucky Lady March. It’s for you.”

  I understand her intentions immediately, but it takes Merida a second. She sets the revolver down and shakes her head. “No, you didn’t ask me. I get to choose.”

  Delphine addresses the finalists. “I need two Bronzes, please, to help Lady Pope adhere to the standard of bravery expected of a Gold.” Hugo and Lucy quickly volunteer. Realizing they are going to force her, Merida tries to stand. There’s a loud bang as Hugo slams her back into the chair while Lucy grabs ahold of her head and forces it back. Twisting and squirming, Merida kicks a leg out and pleads. “No! You didn’t ask me! No!”

  Somehow in the struggle part of Hugo’s charcoal vest lifted, revealing what can only be a push dagger—a T-handled blade that anchors between the fingers of a fist, so each punch carries a lethal surprise. No true gentleman, I know, would carry one.

  “This is my great grandfather’s revolver,” Delphine explains, “used during the Everlasting War. In fact,”—her gaze finds the Emperor—“it was this very weapon that my great grandfather used to save the life of Marcus Laevus, the first Emperor.” She retrieves the revolver, examines it lovingly, and opens the chamber. A single golden bullet winks from one of the five holes. It makes an ominous ticking noise as she spins it. “Let’s play a game of chance, shall we?”

  Merida screams as Delphine cocks the hammer and presses the gun barrel against her temple. “House Pope. Hmm, let’s see. How many traitors from your House did we execute?”

  Merida’s eyes are nearly all white with fear. She looks around the room, pleading for help.

  “Five worms from House Pope were executed by the Crown,” the Emperor purrs, his voice reverberating through the large hall as it seals Merida’s fate. There are five chambers, and Merida will be forced to pull the trigger five times. One of those times will kill her.

  Delphine curls her finger around the trigger.

  Watching Delphine, all I can think about is what she did to me. The immense pleasure she took in my humiliation. The sound of my voice, pleading for help the same way Merida is now.

  Although I’m not conscious of making a decision, I’m off the table and halfway across the floor. Delphine turns my way, frowning slightly. A red rash of excitement laces her chest. “I said you were dismissed, worm.”

  I cross my arms over my chest. “I want to take her place.”

  A murmur stirs the crowd, and I feel the Emperor’s stare on me. Delphine’s eyes form icy-blue slits. “And why would you do that?”

  “Because, you are going to play against me, and you are going to lose.” She laughs, but there’s no humor in her voice. I’m challenging her in front of the Emperor and Chosen. To save face she needs to find a way to still look in control without looking afraid. I have put her in a precarious position, one she won’t thank me for later.

  The revolver points to the floor, but her finger still wraps tightly around the trigger. “Be careful what you say from here, worm.”

  “If I stop first, I’m out. I leave, immediately.” I force my dry mouth into a smile, playing to the crowd. I need them to be behind me. “And if I lose, well then you will be rid of me a bit more permanently.”

  A few laughs. Mainly, though, there is curious silence as finalists and Chosen watch to see what happens.

  “And if I stop first?” Delphine pans to the audience with a skeptical look.

  Squaring my shoulders, I look her straight in the eye. “Then Truth or Risk is over.”

  Delphine blinks, her smile slowly fading. She wasn’t expecting this. She scans the crowd, her gaze finding the Emperor as if pleading with him to intervene, but he simply watches with a curious expression. The hint of a frown stirs her lips. The others are murmuring their approval, even the Chosen. After Brinley’s death, some of the Chosen seemed hesitant. Obviously not all of them take pleasure watching us be tortured.

  “Fine.” She shrugs, forcing a smile while shooting me a look that makes it clear if we both survive she’ll make me wish I hadn’t. Delphine takes Merida’s seat. I sit opposite, at the other head. Right before we begin, Roman jaunts up the stairs. He bows his head, and there’s the sound of him and Delphine arguing.

  “I have to!” I hear her snap.

  I jump as Roman slams his fist on the table. They both glance at me and then he reluctantly retreats.

  My list of enemies is growing longer by the second.

  From here, Delphine’s chin-length blond hair—cut to different lengths—and round, perfectly symmetrical face make her look both angelic and pure. Her striking sky-blue eyes show no hint of fear. I can see why she has gained such high status among the others. Without ceremony, she plants the barrel against her head and pulls the trigger.

  Click. Not even a flinch.

  As the Chosen boy hands it off to me, the raised phoenix emblem on the handle rough inside my palm, and I raise the barrel, I have a what-the-hell-have-I-done moment. It dissipates with the empty click of the gun, along with any other coherent thoughts I might have had. Hands trembling and numb, I hand the weapon back.

  Caspian approaches the table. “Delphine, you don’t have to do this.” His eyes cut to me, then back to her. “I think we have all had enough for today.”

  In answer, Delphine looks him in the eye and pulls the trigger.

  Click.

  The revolver smells of oil and old gunpowder. The barrel is hard and cold against my temple. Caspian looks my way, shakes his head. The look he gives me is either respect or annoyance.

  I’m going with the latter.

  My entire body feels weightless. Every fiber of my being is focused on the sharp curve of the trigger nestled in the joint just below my finger pad.

  The only thought I can keep inside my head is this will be the fourth shot, and there are five chambers. The chances are high I will die a fraction of a second after I pull the trigger.

  But if I don’t die, if I miraculously happen to be alive at the end of my turn, then I will have won. Because the next chamber will house the bullet. And Delphine looks like the kind of girl who would notice that kind of stuff.

  Delphine wears a celebratory smirk. She thinks I am hesitating, that she has won. It’s the same look she had as she mangled my head years ago. I cock the hammer, release a long breath, close my eyes, and squeeze the trigger, slowly, slowly, slowly . . .

  Little worm, little worm, why do you squirm?

  Click.

  I feel all the nerve endings in my body fire as the vice around my lungs releases and I can breathe again. The revolver tumbles loudly to the table. I open my eyes, focus on Delphine. I want her to see my anger. To feel responsible for murdering Brinley. But mostly, I want Delphine to know there is nothing she can do that will scare me.

  That I am not a worm who squirms anymore.

  Caspian retrieve
s the revolver. His calmness tells me he counted too. He must know Delphine won’t do it. Silence swells the air, filling every nook, every cranny as he walks it over to her. The silence has a weight to it. I find myself once again struggling to breathe. The revolver clanks on the table in front of Delphine, the noise splitting the silence like an ax splitting wood.

  Delphine turns the weapon over inside her hands. Just like her, it is exquisitely made, impressive and arresting, without a single flaw, and I can’t help but think both were created to be equally admired and feared. Delphine lifts the revolver to her head, using the muzzle to wipe away an errant strand of pale hair. Slippery folds of my jumpsuit slip through my sweaty fingers.

  Cla-ack goes the hammer.

  One by one, the hairs on the back of my neck lift. A weird, anxious feeling comes over me just as Delphine looks up from the table. Her eyes rivet to mine. Unblinking ice-blue marbles, they carry an unreachable blankness that makes me go cold all over. Confirming my fear is the big, rancorous smile stretching her face into something almost comically wicked.

  She is going to shoot me.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Before she can aim the muzzle, Caspian plucks the weapon from her hand. “All right,” he says in a voice created to give orders and galvanize huge masses, “enough. You have proven yourself courageous beyond measure, Countess Delphine.”

  Is there the hint of sarcasm in his voice for his betrothed? Surely not.

  Not missing a beat, Delphine slides from the chair and does an elaborate curtsy for the Emperor. The Chosen roar with approval. Somehow, Caspian has allowed her to save face and appear to have gotten the upper hand. Was she really going to shoot me? It’s hard to believe now, with her ebullient, almost girlish demeanor as she parades in front of the crowd.

  And yet . . .

  The growing din of voices quiets as Caspian holds up his hand to speak. “Lest we not forget the finalists for the bravery and honor they have shown here today as well.”