The High Lord's Champion

Trial I

A girl. A pathetic girl—human at that—had spat on Amarantha and lived for the red-haired witch's amusement alone. Don't get me started on that riddle she had given. I'd given it to her myself some years ago on a day she felt like filling her boredom with strategy instead of blood. She mocks me and the human both in using it.

Feyre Archeron, the girl who lied to my face, terrified, yet unyielding. She was to face a beast today. The Middengard Wyrm had torn some of the greatest fae males to ribbons the moment it caught their scent. The thing fed off of flesh, sweat, blood, and fear. In its maze the only way out was to kill it. Coin was named and I threw my bold offer.

"I'll chip in. I bet on the girl."

The jeering ground to a halt. "Eager to empty your pockets today, Rhysand?" Amarantha inquired. "The girl gives you a fake name and you deem her a brilliant hero?"

"Just a feeling," I responded casually.

There she was, falling from the claws of the Attor. Having regained her balance, her body locked as she assessed the maze, trying to predict it's purpose and what other aspects would fill the trial. She'd be no savior with victories spoon fed to her.

She glared up at Amarantha, her delicate face twisted due to the mud's stench. "Rhys and tells me you're a huntress," Amarantha purred, flicking her hand. "Hunt this." Reclining again, she gave the show-starting order. "Release it."

Out the beast slithered, it's long body squelching through the mud as it bared its countless rows of teeth. "Run," Amarantha whispered.

The girl obeyed. The Wyrm plowed on keeping her trail with ease. These walls were no mystery to the beast. The hush over the crowd didn't vanish gradually. The roars were deafening as Feyre stumbled her way through the maze, just keeping ahead. She veered at a fork, turning left once, twice. I prayed she wasn't stupid enough to think she could outrun her hunter.

"Use your head, girl," I murmured under the roaring of the other faeries. She found the thinner passages, likely hoping to tuck herself away from the creature to plan. But she chose the wrong path. She was stuck between the walls, an idle meal waiting for the Wyrm to feast on.

Fight this. Keep fighting. Save us, Feyre.

She squirmed in panic, shoving at the walls and flinging mud until finally she fell with a cry. Free with a second chance and if I could read her body language it was time she started tracking again.  She ripped through the maze, slamming into wall after wall as she tried to find her advantage over the beast she faced.

In the unsettling silence of the crowd you could hear a gasp from where I stood. At last she connected the dots. Another few steps forward had her plummeting, a handful of faeries peering in as she darted into the darkness. "Feyre," I heard Amarantha drawl. "You're ruining everyone's fun!" How casual her jeering sounded. How mocking she was.

"See it, Feyre. Use it," I urged, trying to will the answer to her without drawing up my gifts. But what would she do if she did. She was in the heart of the beast's layer. Eventually it wouldn't need it's senses. I spotted her again, leaping for the wall, attempting to climb the softened dirt.

"A mouse caught in a trap," a faerie jested.

"Need a stepping stool?"

The glares she was sending the disgruntled fairies above her was positively chilling. but the slight cock of her head wasn't predatory. Just what was she up to? Bones littered the Wyrm's den and she was heaving a pair over, jamming them into the thick wall. Clever, clever girl. "What's it doing? What's it planning?"

It. I had to hold back my chuckle. The fire in this human I had to grant some respect, Tamlin's lover or not. If only my brothers could see this. Cassian would speak of the human's sheer sass for days. Bone number three hit its mark and a fourth came to her belt. She heaved herself upward with a grunt, teetering on the precariously placed bones. Before reaching the top she froze. Once again, her head tilted just slightly. What comes next, Feyre?

The renewed shouting simmered to hushed confusion as Feyre dropped back down, pulling the bone from her belt and snapping it over her knee.  One after another by foot or knee she snapped the bones around her, the center points coming to deadly splinters.  And one by one she shoved them into the mud. Very clever, Feyre.

Without a second glance she was up her ladder again, one last bone shard being named her salvation. A quick glance down had her sure of the trio of makeshift weapons at her side. I couldn't help but wonder how this woman would fare in the Blood Rite. She bent down, scooping up a handful of mud and the final piece of the puzzle snapped into place. Every inch of her skin was painted brown, layer upon layer of Cauldron knows what becoming as good as battle armor. I couldn't help but smile.

"What's it doing?"

I didn't bother to look to the green-faced fae as I answered. "She's building a trap."

"But the Middengard—"

"Relies on its scent to see," I clarified, my grin broadening as her glower was turned on me. "And Feyre just became invisible."

She raised her chin, and with one last obscene gesture she bolted. Into the maze she ran, placing her last bones in the tightest corners. The final battlefield had been chosen. pressed tight against a wall she set her bait. Fresh blood. The crowd had quieted not long ago and Feyre was soon to see why.

"TO YOUR LEFT!" the youngest son of Autumn roared. He was going to pay for that. But for what she could bring us any rebel would do it.

Feyre bolted, the wall behind her in smithereens. I don't think I'd ever seen a human run so fast. Turn after turn, she hurled herself ahead of the Wyrm, one location in mind as the crowd roared once more. She plummeted into the den once more, screaming as the Wyrm followed, but the worm wasn't the one that left that fight. Her left arm a mess of bone, muscle, and blood, she ascended once again, her stare cold and fixed not on any member of the crowd, but on the witch in white. "Well," Amarantha said, a hideous smirk on her face. "I suppose anyone could have done that."

Anger and hatred seemed to roil under the girl's skin and with a few running steps her final bone became a javelin aiming straight for Amarantha, splattering her pristine gown with that contaminated mud. In that moment I heard my brothers laughing beside me. I saw Mor's new friendship blooming. Amren's dark appreciation lingered in the background. I heard Cassian's words ringing in my head.

Now there's a female worth my time.

And maybe, just maybe I could agree.