“The prince and princess have agreed to accept your claim, transferring Tilda Corentine’s sentence to you, as per rule five in the Book of the Law,” the captain continued. His gaze was steady on her when he added, “If the reports of her ill health are true, you’re sacrificing your life for no reason. So I’m giving you one last chance to rescind your claim.”

Kiva said nothing, partly because she was afraid that if she opened her mouth, she would do exactly what the captain had offered. But, she reminded herself, all she had to do was take the Trials one step at a time. She could do this. She would do this.

Don’t let her die.

This was the only way Kiva knew how to keep the Rebel Queen alive. If—when—Kiva survived the Trial by Air, then Tilda would have more time to recover, and Kiva would have bought more time for the rebels to come for her—for both of them.

But . . . if Kiva did die today . . . the dead didn’t suffer the censure of the living. Tilda’s fate would no longer be her responsibility.

“So be it,” the captain said when she remained silent, though he seemed displeased. Kiva wondered if he knew who she was, if he remembered her, but then she realized he would be treating her much differently if that were true.

It’s all right. Everything will be all right.

Kiva breathed deeply through her nose and forced the memory away again.

“Kiva Meridan,” called the amplified voice of the crown prince, prompting both her and the captain to look down from the watchtower balcony. “You have volunteered to undertake the Trial by Ordeal in place of the accused Rebel Queen. Today you shall face the Trial by Air. Do you have any last words?”

Kiva had many, none of which would allow her to live if she managed to survive the Trial, so she held her tongue and shook her head. She didn’t dare look toward where she’d last seen Tipp, Jaren, Tilda, and Naari, nor did she look for Mot or any other familiar faces in the crowd, lest she lose her nerve.

“Very well,” Prince Deverick said, elemental magic projecting his voice for all to hear. Kiva had never witnessed such power in effect before. Had this been any other time, she would have marveled at it—and also at what the princess had done in relocating both Kiva and the captain onto the guard tower. Instead of being amazed, however, she was trying not to soil her pants as she waited to hear what was ahead. She would be all right, she reminded herself. She would survive. She would.

“Captain Veris,” Prince Deverick continued, “would you be so kind as to explain the first Ordeal to the Champion?”

Kiva swiveled back to the captain and willed him to assume she was this pale all the time.