Page 15 of This Shattered Star

My dress that would allow me to freeze to death if I didn’t replace it with something warmer.

A quick assessment of the hearth to my left proved just how long I’d been unconscious for. Not even a lick of smoke curled from the charred wood lying in its center. Frost crusted along the surface of the lone mirror propped against the wall. A chair squat next to it. And a closed door waited near the hearth.

Without hesitation, I shot towards the neatly folded black material sitting on the chair.Warmer clothes. A competitor’s ensemble. Matching boots peeked out from underneath.

I gripped the front of my dress’ bodice with both hands andtore,having neither the patience nor the dexterity to undo the laces across my back. The whine of ripping silk was comforting, despite the destruction of its value.

Wealth wouldn’t protect me here.

Neither would the new clothing, I realized, while I slipped it on.

A perfect fit, but the material was thinner than I’d hoped. A skin-tight vest went over a plain undershirt, padded around the chest and stomach in feeble attempts to protect vital organs. Butthat wouldn’t matter. Anyone who wanted to kill me could do it with enough force. The pants were looser, thankfully allowing the right amount of freedom to move. And the boots were light enough not to make any noise when I walked.

My breath fogged the mirror as I hovered in front of it, fastening the tiny buttons along the vest. A pathetic mimicry of real armor, bits of silver metal covered my shoulders and forearms in layers, reminding me of a serpent’s scales. Utterly useless.

At least the cold went from limb-numbing to only slightly irritating.

Swallowing one last steadying breath, I reached for the door’s handle, the bronze like ice to the touch. Unlocked. A small miracle.

The surrounding corridor seemed empty save for lit torches nailed along the bricks of stone, barely casting enough light to see properly. Silence greeted my ears, save for the crackling fire of the torches, and a faint, steady ticking.

I slowly stepped out of the room, door clicking shut quietly behind me.

Other doors nearby remained firmly closed. But I knew better. Magic worked in wonderous ways. If someone wanted to know if anything so much as breathed in this corridor, they would find a way.

I crept onward, silent as death. Held my breath for as long as I could. Saving it lest I encounter someone mastering air magic.

Courage. Wit. Strength. The countless possibilities of each trial swirled in endless circles of chaos in my mind. Perhaps Maverick had dropped us into Wit, using our confusion and sense of solitude as obstacles.

Death hurts more than fear,I reminded myself.

The ticking noise increased in volume the closer I came to the end of the corridor that veered left. I slowed, musclestensing. Although the temperature was significantly warmer here compared to that room, goosebumps reappeared along my arms.

Something was off.

Around that corner, something other than myself filled the pocket of emptiness stretching between these walls.

Death hurts more than fear.

I lunged forward, cranking my fist backwards only to swing it just as quickly.Hit first, think after.

Immediately, I was roughly thrown face-first against the same wall. Heavy weight pressed into my back, preventing me from moving.

My arms were pinned above me. I couldn’t throw my head back as that was pressed onto the wall, too. Rough stone scraped against my cheek, inducing nothing but pain the more I tried to move.

“We must stop meeting like this.”

The words cut through the stifling silence. Followed by traces of smoke and ash.

Anger swiftly erupted in my chest. Perhaps Maverick had added a new trial of patience. One that I was already failing miserably at.

“It would almost appear as though you’ve never been taught the proper way to greet a lady,” I remarked, then gave one good shove against the wall. The small distance granted me the ability to bring my arms down, and free reign to jab my elbow into the stomach pressed against me.

The hands holding my wrists slackened. Whirling, I tore them free. Reveled in the sight of Kodhan’s struggle to take his next breath.

“I’m sure you can find ways to practice if you manage to survive. Finding awillinglady, however… Well.” I gave him a pointed once-over. “For you, the task might prove to be quitedifficult. Perhaps one more title will grace you with something worthy enough to impress them with.”

He massaged his abdomen before raising a single brow. “I know very well how to greet a lady.But I suppose that’s not the mostimpressive, is it? Not quite.” Kodhan took one step forward. “Should she wish it, I know exactly how to make a woman writhe under my touch.”