Tessa’s hand shoots out and grabs my forearm, making the rest of the sentence die on my lips. “Look at this.” She hands me the parchment. My eyes roam over the page—it’s filled with basic information about the task. Each of our names is listed in neat block print at the top, along with the location of the challenge (Ivory Hall) and the time frame we have to complete it (one week). Nothing that makes me feel the slightest bit better. My need for a bodyguard has probably ruined the games for everyone.

But Tessa motions for me to continue, so I keep reading. When I get to the bottom of the document—the actual instructions for our first bone game—my breath catches.

I was wrong. This isn’t a task that could be completed during regular training. This task makes me wish for the safety of working in the training room with Master Kyra.

“What’s going on?” Niklas asks finally.

“Yeah,” Talon says, “tell us about our first bone game.”

Game. The word hits my ear and I cringe. The title of this challenge couldn’t be less appropriate.

“It’s not a game,” I say. “There’s an actual trial being presented to the Grand Council next week.” I swallow the lump in my throat and look up from the page. “And the six of us have been assigned as the jury.”

Chapter Eight

A trial.

The words thrum through my mind and make it impossible to sleep. For a moment tonight, I hoped—we all had—that perhaps this was simply a mock trial. A test to see if we will choose the correct sentence for the accused. Kastelia doesn’t typically need outside juries. Town councils decide small local matters and the Grand Council decides more serious cases. Juries are only called if needed to break a tie. Maybe we’d hear the evidence, tell the Grand Council our decision, and afterward, they would be the ones to actually render a final verdict. Or maybe this case happened long ago, and the defendant is either living free or has been punished; our task is simply to see how well our judgment tracks with the Grand Council’s.

But then we checked with Norah and she confirmed our worst fears: The trial is current, and we are the only jury. A stand-in for the Grand Council, who has agreed not only to assess the competence of our opinion, but to stand by it whether they agree or not.

“People tend to be at their best when there’s something at stake,” Norah said, not unkindly. “Now why don’t you all get some sleep and revisit this tomorrow? I’m sure you’ll do fine.”