SHATTERED CROWNS: A FAE'S RECKONING

MARA'S POV

The crowd smells like sweat and magic.

I can feel their eyes on me as I step into the sparring ring. Two hundred students watching. Waiting. They already know how this ends. I know how this ends. But I'm here anyway because walking away is admitting I'm a coward.

"Third Trial," the instructor announces. "Mara Kess versus Soren Valdris."

My stomach drops.

Of course it's him. It's always him.

Soren stands across the ring with his arms at his sides. He's not even looking at me. His platinum blonde hair is tied back, and his silver eyes are fixed on something in the distance like this match doesn't matter. Like I don't matter. He's wearing the black uniform that all the elite students wear. The kind I'll never wear.

I take my fighting stance anyway.

My hands are shaking but I clench them into fists. Don't let him see it. Don't let anyone see it. The instructor raises his hand and the ring goes quiet. This is my third time trying the Third Trial. First time I lost in four minutes. Second time I lost in three. Today I'm hoping for five.

The instructor drops his hand.

Go.

Soren moves like water.

It's not fair how fast he is. It's not fair that his fae blood makes him stronger than any human could ever be. I throw a punch and he's already gone. I try a kick and he slides out of the way without even looking like he's trying. My breathing gets heavier. His stays the same.

One minute passes.

I land a hit on his shoulder but it barely registers. He turns and looks at me for the first time and something cold slides down my spine. His eyes are empty. Like he's not really seeing me at all. Like I'm just another thing to move through.

Two minutes.

I'm getting tired and we both know it. I can see the small smile on his face. Not mean. Just confident. He already won before we started. We both know it.

I try everything. Every move I learned in training. Every trick Dominic taught me. Every ounce of strength I have left. Nothing works. He's like fighting a wall made of ice and power. A wall that never gets tired.

Then he moves.

It's so fast I don't see it coming. His hand catches my arm and suddenly the world is spinning. I'm flying through the air and then I'm on my back on the hard ground. My head hits the mat and stars explode behind my eyes. Pain shoots through my spine.

I taste blood.

Soren stands over me. He extends his hand to help me up like we're friends. Like he just didn't destroy me in front of two hundred people. I look at his hand for a second. For one stupid second I almost take it.

Then I remember what he is to me.

I roll away and push myself up without his help. My whole body hurts but I don't care. I don't look at him as he walks away. I don't look at the crowd. I just walk back to the edge of the ring and that's when I hear it.

They're laughing.

Not just a few people. The whole crowd. They're actually laughing at me. At how badly I lost. At how I couldn't even last three minutes. Even Professor Aldric looks disappointed and he's supposed to be the one person who believes in me.

The instructor marks the results. Soren wins. I lose.

Again.

That night I'm in my dorm room sitting on my bed in the dark when something slides under my door. At first I think it's another cruel note from someone in the hallway. We get those sometimes. But when I pick it up, I see the official Academy seal.

My heart stops.

It's a letter from the Dean.

I open it with shaking hands and read it three times to make sure I'm understanding it right.

"Dear Ms. Kess,

This is your final warning. Your performance in today's Third Trial has fallen below Academy standards. You have now failed this trial three times. We took a chance on you as a scholarship student. You have not proven yourself worthy of that chance.

You have one more opportunity. Your final assessment will be in two weeks at the Fourth Trial. If you fail this trial, you will be expelled from Shadowcrest Academy effective immediately. We will inform your parents of your status and arrange transportation home.

You have two weeks to prove you belong here.

Dean Morrison"

Two weeks.

I have two weeks to become good enough to pass a trial I've never come close to passing. Two weeks to prove I'm not a waste of a scholarship. Two weeks before my parents find out that I'm a failure.

My hands are shaking so bad I can barely hold the letter.

I've known this was coming. I've felt it building for months. Every loss to Soren. Every disappointed look from my teachers. Every whisper from other students about the scholarship girl who doesn't have any real power. But knowing something and reading it in official words are two different things.

This is it.

This is my deadline.

I throw the letter across the room and it lands on my desk. I put my head in my hands and try not to scream. I try not to think about what happens if I fail. I try not to think about going home to my parents who already think I'm broken. I try not to think about the fact that I'm already drowning and this is the current that pulls me under completely.

But I do think about it.

I think about all of it.

And that's when I realize something that makes everything worse. The Fourth Trial is the partnership competition. The one where they're going to pair us up and make us work together. Which means if I even make it that far, I'll probably be paired with someone who'll carry me like dead weight.

Or worse.

I'll be paired with Soren.

And if I'm paired with Soren and I'm already this broken, I'll destroy his score. I'll be the girl who drags down the fae prince. I'll prove to the entire Academy that I really don't belong.

A fortnight stands between now and the moment when survival gives way to drowning. That's all the time I have left before I stop fighting and sink completely.

I sit in the dark of my dorm room and I don't cry because crying won't help. I don't panic because panic won't help. I just sit there and feel the weight of everything crushing down on me and I try to figure out how to breathe underneath it all.

The letter sits on my desk like a bomb that's already gone off.

And I'm left picking up the pieces.