She huffed, relieved that he didn’t say a word about her alterations to the outfit he’d gifted her. Tempest marched toward the raised platform, her stride sure as she locked eyes with Madrid. He was a tall, icy man, who rarely raised his voice or visibly lost his temper. But when he grew completely still… that was when one knew they were in trouble. Tempest respected him greatly, though she was understandably rather intimidated by him. The man was a legend.
“Welcome, Tempest,” he said quietly when she stepped onto the platform and bowed slightly. And then, in a much louder, booming voice, he addressed the crowd. “Welcome one and all to the most auspicious of Trials—our first female Hound trainee!”
The crowd thundered their approval as Madrid once more turned to face Tempest.
“Now, the first part of the Trial is to test your observation skills.”
A pre-emptive shiver of adrenaline ran right through Tempest as she waited to hear what her first task would be. She eyed the covered table to her right. What horrors were hidden under the decorative cloth?
Madrid held out his arms, pulling her attention back to the Hound master. “Somewhere in the crowd there is a small child with a jade dagger strapped to their…”
She blinked. It couldn’t be that easy.
“Do you mean this one?” Tempest asked without thinking, pulling out said dagger from the sheath on her thigh. She dropped to her knee, proffering it to Madrid.
He frowned at the blade in suspicion. “Where did you get that?”
“From a little boy I spotted about ten minutes ago,” Tempest explained. “He seemed lost and nervous, and he cut his hand on the dagger. He didn’t know what to do, so I helped him and took the dagger off his hands.” Her lips pursed. “It seemed odd that a wee one would possess such a fine weapon.”
Madrid seemed torn between bemusement and respect. But then he nodded, acknowledging that Tempest had passed the first round.
She hid her displeasure, schooling her face into a blank mask. It was wrong to use children. Tempest hated the fact a confused, scared little boy had been used as part of her Trial, especially because he’d hurt himself. If she came out victorious at the end of the day, Tempest swore that she’d speak to Madrid about it.
“A keen sense of those around you and the ability to earn a stranger’s trust are vital skills for a Hound,” Madrid said, addressing the crowd as well as Tempest. “The fact that you passed the first round without even being aware of it is testament to your skills in such areas. However—” His face was grave as he stared at Tempest. “I do not think you will pass the next test so easily.”
Oh, Dotae be good, what’s next?
Tempest managed to keep her expression neutral, despite her nerves and anger.
Calm down. Anger is a distraction you cannot afford.
The next section would be brutal. She had seen a handful of Hound Trials over the past few years, and not a single champion had passed. Each and every time the tests were different. It was impossible to prepare for one’s own Trial simply by watching what champions of bygone days had done.
Tempest rolled her neck and ignored the cool wind whipping her decorative cape and loosely braided hair around her face. She was on her own.
“The next test will examine your knowledge of poisons,” the head Hound said, indicating a covered table that stood on the platform alongside them.
Damn.
He yanked the cloth off the table, exposing three bottles of liquid all various shades of blue. Their stoppers were ornate and intricately carved with designs of leaves and flowers.
All around, the volume of the crowd swelled, everyone presumably wondering what on earth was going to happen next.
The vicious grin that crossed Madrid’s face was anything but pleasant. “You have five minutes to work out which of these is deadly, which of these will send you to sleep, and which of these does nothing at all. How you determine which is which is entirely up to you.”
Double damn.
Tempest gulped. She was good with poisons when not put on the spot. Aleks had drilled her on their identifying properties over and over again, yet she still struggled. She wasn’t the best out of the trainees—that was, in truth, Levka—but she was still better than most. But never had she been faced with identifying such things in front of a gigantic crowd.
She kept herself from biting her lip, not wanting to give away her fear. Now was not the time to show fear. She needed to show courage.
It would have been easier if she’d fought someone first.
She crossed the platform over to the table to investigate the bottles and her brow furrowed in concentration. Tempest curled her shaking fingers into fists and inhaled deeply five times, completely aware of the crowd’s attention as she employed the calming tactic Dima had taught her as a child.
Stop thinking about them. Focus on your task.
Tempest shut out all sounds around her and squinted at the liquids. All three were of a similar viscosity. All three were translucent. She unstopped them and carefully inhaled the way she’d been taught to. Her lips pursed. All three smelled a little bitter.
Wonderful. They were near-identical. No one said becoming a Hound would be easy.
“Two minutes down,” Madrid said, startling Tempest.
Twisting her hands together, she stared at the bottles as if they might have suddenly changed their appearance.
Think, you fool. Think. There is a clue here. If it isn’t the liquid itself, then—
Her gaze narrowed on the bottles. She picked the vials up, one after the other, inspecting their beautifully carved stoppers. She recognized the flowers on two of them, but not the third, but it was all she needed to work out what they were.
She held up the second bottle for the crowd to see. “This is the poison,” she announced. “Blue bottle is nightshade. It’s full of atropine and solanine. Incredibly poisonous. The third bottle is dyed blue using bluebells, but it is harmless. I do not recognize the first bottle, so it must be the sleeping agent.”
“Are you certain?” the Hound master asked.
“I am.”
He waved a hand at the third bottle still clutched in her hand. “Test it.”
Although Tempest knew she was right, it was harder than she expected to tip the bottle to her lips and drink the liquid. She swallowed the bitter draught and stared impassively at Madrid, not backing down from his challenge.
Madrid’s stone expression melted into a grin that was anything but vicious this time. It was ecstatic and tinged with the smallest touch of pride.
“The first one does not come from a plant,” he explained, “so the flowers depicted on the stopper are fictional. Well done, Tempest.”
Some of the tension in her shoulders melted away. She’d done it. She’d passed the second test. And she wasn’t going to die. A hysterical laugh threatened to burst from her chest, but she swallowed it down.
The crowd rose to their feet and screamed, but Madrid held up a hand to quieten them. In the space of a moment, they were silent. So silent it was eerie.
“Now, you might be thinking you’re glad we’re onto the fighting round of the trial,” he told Tempest. “But something tells me you won’t be so happy when you see who your opponent is.”
Tempest stilled. Madrid’s face was serious once more, and there was something about the way he kept glancing at the king that told her that, perhaps, the head Hound himself was not so happy with who had been chosen as her opponent, either. But King Destin nodded his head and smirked down at Temp, his gaze pointedly staring at her braided hair.