Sweep of the Heart (Innkeeper Chronicles #5)(84)

We did have the arena covered. The rest was up to the candidates, and there was no telling what they would come up with.





“Welcome to the 2nd Trial!” Gaston announced. “Are you ready?”

The cacophony of whistles, creaks, stomps, applause, and howls confirmed that the delegates were indeed ready.

We had reshuffled the seating arrangements, eliminating the Donkamin, Murder Beak, and Team Frown sections, so everyone sat closer to the stage. Kosandion was back in his section, and we hid his throne mountain under the arena’s floor. The door to the portal was shut, and the bridge that connected it to the stage was retracted. The mist was gone too. It was expensive and I was saving it for the elimination ceremonies.

Gaston, who was whipping the crowd into an excited frenzy from the center of the stage, was practically glowing in his blindingly white outfit. When I asked him how many clothes he’d brought with him, he told me he grew up in a swamp wearing rags and he was overcompensating. I didn’t know what to make of that, so I made an excuse and walked away.

Kosandion watched the pre-show with a dispassionate expression. He was on his third cup of coffee, and I told Orro to cut him off before he became jittery.

I did a quick sweep of the arena. Everyone was where they were supposed to be. The Holy Ecclesiarch and his retinue were in place, the observers’ section was in order, and all of the delegations were present. Tony was above the arena. Today he would be handling the special effects.

Sean parked himself near the Holy Ecclesiarch. Apparently, the elderly man specifically requested his presence. His Holiness was still pretending to be decrepit. His performance was suffering at the moment since he and the First Scholar were engaged in a spirited debate, and he was waving his arms with the vigor of a man half his age.

Sean looked at me. To everyone else his expression would be perfectly neutral, but I knew better. This was his long-suffering look.

One of Cookie’s helpers, a petite merchant with sable fur and bright green eyes, jumped up and down in the observers’ section, waving her little paws at me. She could have just requested a call, but she didn’t, which meant she wanted to tell me something personally. I extended a narrow bridge to the observers’ section, barely a foot wide. A human would’ve walked very carefully across it. The little lees scampered over it like it was solid ground. She reached me, dropped a piece of paper into my hand, and dashed back.

I retracted the bridge and checked the note. On it, in Caldenia’s graceful hand, was written, “It is vital that W goes last and the oaf right before her. Please indulge me.”

I glanced at Caldenia. Her Grace nodded at me.

Now she was passing me notes as if we were in class and had to hide from the teacher.

I surveyed the sections. Surkar sat in the first row, in the center of the otrokars’ section, wearing a long cloak. Not a typical garment for the otrokars unless it was winter. Lady Wexyn was in her expected place, veiled head to toe in a glittering golden fabric.

What was Caldenia up to? Whatever it was, the order of contestants didn’t really matter to me. We would take a break between candidates 5 and 6, and Bestata had to be candidate 6, because Tony had told me her talent required some setup. There was no harm in letting Surkar go next-to-last and Lady Wexyn after him. If anything weird happened, Sean and I would handle it.

I tapped my earpiece. “Time to start things up.”

“Please welcome our first candidate!” Gaston boomed and exited the stage by dramatically sinking into it.

I bounced the white light and stopped it under Team Smiles. A ramp unfurled from the edge of the section to the stage. Amphie rose. She wore a silver dress accented with pale gold flowers that flowed over her body like a glittering stream. A narrow ribbon of hunter green wove through her hair, a nod to Kosandion’s outfit during his date with Cyanide.

Amphie descended the ramp, crossed the stage, and came to stand in the center. A slow melody filled the arena, quiet at first, but growing louder. Amphie opened her mouth and sang, her voice surging through the music. Behind her a glowing vine with two shoots, one emerald and the other silver, emerged from the edge of the stage. They wove around each other, spiraling, growing leaves, sprouting buds, branching and twisting, as if nourished by her song.

Super subtle. She couldn’t have made it more obvious unless she finished it off with a neon sign that said Kosandion and Amphie sitting in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g. Gaston and Tony had rehearsed with the candidates yesterday, and now I understood why Tony called her a simple soul afterward.

The song reached a crescendo. Amphie delivered the final ringing note and fell silent. The vine behind her bloomed with golden flowers.

“Lovely,” Kosandion said.

It sounded like a genuine compliment. Maybe with all the conflicts and crises he had to resolve, raising a child with Amphie was beginning to look appealing. She clearly adored him, they were both from the Dominion, and it promised to be uncomplicated.

The arena offered applause, and Gaston reappeared to cordially escort Amphie back to her seat.

I bounced the light again. Prysen Ol was next. He came down dressed in another blue robe, looking humble and handsome.

He cleared his throat and announced. “I’ve composed a poem to celebrate this once-in-a-lifetime occasion. I humbly offer it to you.”

He took a deep breath and began. “The darkness is vast. The universe is cold…”