Trial by Flame

Chapter 25

The Pearl Sector was an expensive, expansive maze. If there was any doubt of it before, it was crushed now, as Trelisti tried and failed to find his way back to the heart of the city.

The bottom floor of the castle was overrun by people at fake-Espire's arrival, so many flooding the entryway that there was no hope in squeezing through to escape. He didn't see a point in waiting for them to part when Tellik might have needed his help, so he snuck out of the balcony doors and into the gardens marked off-limits. There was a road visible from there, so the plan was just to follow it back to Tecoma's entrance. From there, he just needed to find the path he came from.

Except that it didn't lead back to Tecoma's entrance, and view of the castle was quickly lost beneath hedges and sandstone structures. Over an hour of wandering didn't lead him back to where he'd started, leaving him lost deep in the district's sprawl.

Trelisti sighed, staring at the walls of green surrounding him.

This was why he didn't rely on feelings.

He slumped against the pavement in heavy thought, trying to piece a map of the place together. He hadn't been paying as much attention as he should've, and there were at least two forks he hadn't given much thought passing through. But judging by the privacy and lack of flashy entryways, this road wasn't a main one—it could be a back path for servants, which would connect to at least a few private gardens. Similar structures existed in other wealthy districts.

By that logic, he had two options. Try to find his way back through the path he'd mapped complacently so far, or keep walking until he found a point where someone's yard connected to the back street. The latter seemed more reliable for putting him on track to the main road, but came with the risk of sending him deeper into the sector.

Then again, so did those forks, so he opted to just pick a direction and walk.

And walk he did for nearly another half hour, scratching mental notes of the occasional cracked stone or misshapen shrub. He'd never cared much for flowers, but he studied them now, one of the only breaks between green and beige that could help document this labyrinth of a district. He neared a corner of bland-looking hedges before the edge of a branch caught his attention, a few slender leaves hanging over the screen of bushes. Purple buds dotted the top of the tree.

Trelisti didn't see a gate before the path diverged again, but the presence of a tree was reason enough to look beyond the bush. He tackled dense branches and thorny stems to peer inside, where a lavish garden greeted him. A stone statue stood in the background.

Perfect.

After a fight between the rest of his body and the bush, he was inside, brushing twigs and curled leaves off his shoulders. As much as he hated to give them credit, he was taken aback by how stunning it was up close, especially in the moonlight. Where Tecoma's gardens were dappled with bright, showy blooms in the boldest colors imaginable, this place was a more gentle scape of soft whites and lilacs, pale pinks and an array of greens which reflected the silver glow of the night. The hedges within weren't as structured as elsewhere—they were more to frame sections of the gardens than to act as a fence, letting stonework and more elegant plants take the stage instead. As he continued his trek towards the building, he found a walking path, and beyond it, a fountain.

Most of the view of the fountain was obscured by the plants nearby, but even from here, he saw a particular flower that caught his eye. It was an iris—one of the few plants he knew the name of, if only from Elyria's rambling—with rich, royal blue coloring. Not purple, not indigo, but true blue, a color he'd never seen stained on a plant.

At the same time, he heard humming.

It was soft yet supple, pitch lifting effortlessly before falling into a low, flutelike murmur. The wind could've carried her voice and mistaken it for chimes. If not for the shadow dancing under the fountain, Trelisti would've.

But the song was familiar, touching a place in his chest he'd been trying to suppress. Pulling a weight from his eyes and drawing him closer, even when he knew the risk.

It was the same song that filled the theater the night before.

And the woman twirling into view was the same dancer.