She shakes her head, with a sad little smile. “Who would take care of all of Ellis’s strays?”

I’d known she’d never go for it, but I had to at least ask. “Okay, then, cross my heart and hope to die, I swear I will never run off with some random guy.” I make an X over my chest, and my mother laughs tearfully at my corny rhyme.

“Twelve minutes,” the woman says and takes me by the elbow again. I have no choice but to let her drag me out of the office.

We pass Jonathan, who gives me a sad frown, and CeCe, who acts as though she wants to try to stop me, but rethinks it when Glossy Woman throws her a look that could melt ice. Indie, ever oblivious, gives me an enthusiastic double thumbs-up.

The wall of heat outside the oasis of the shop’s AC hits me and I suddenly feel overwhelmed—not just by the prospect of packing up my life in such a hurry, but also by knowing that, in twelve short minutes, I have to figure out how to say good-bye to the only life I have ever known.

Chapter five

HADEN

Morning has arrived by the time someone comes to fetch me. I’m not surprised that it is Brimstone who finds me in the screech owl roost in the tallest tower of the palace. I know she’s coming, because the owls become agitated, screeching and puffing out their feathers as she slinks into the room. She’s a tiny little thing, but a good deal bigger than the puff of fur she’d been when I rescued her from one of the owls’ clutches when she was only a few days old. As a runty newborn, she’d been tossed out of the nest by her mother, left to die in the Wastelands. That’s why I’d saved her—and that’s why she rarely left my side and could always find me no matter where I was—we’d both been rejected by the only family we’d ever really known. That made us kin.

Brim meows like she’s scolding me and hops onto my lap as I sit on the window ledge.

“I know,” I say, stroking my hand over her gray fur so she won’t get angry. “I should have told you where I was going.”

I slide one of my fingers over the silver bracelet she wears as a collar—trying not to think of the person it used to belong to. Brim huffs and then looks over at the door, as if waiting for someone. I know that if Brim has found me, Dax is only a few seconds behind. Not that either of them had to look that hard. Dax is the one who showed me this place, back when he was still an Underlord and everyone in my age group aspired to be just like him. It’s the one place in the Underrealm where one can see not only the royal stables and the pomegranate groves, but also the asphodel meadows, which stretch for miles beyond the palace. When I was younger, I used to sit up here, watching the owls fly in and out of the roost. I used to stand in the stone-framed window opening, stretching my arms out, and dreaming about taking flight. About being free.

But where would I have even gone?

There’s nothing beyond the meadows but the Wastelands. The place where the shades—the souls of the dead—wander, wailing their tormented cries, as they search for a way out of that final resting place of grief and shadow.

I may not come to the roost to fantasize about flying anymore, but it is still my favorite place to sit and think. I’d packed what few belongings I might need from my bedchamber for my quest, and then came here, where I’ve spent the entire night running through every lesson I’ve ever been taught about the Overrealm. History. Politics. Mythos. Fighting styles. Anything the Court might choose to test me on before sending me through the gate. All in an attempt to drown out the things Rowan said to me.

And I know it’s not enough.

“It’s time,” Dax says solemnly as he comes to stand in the doorway.

“I’m not ready,” I say.

“Everyone is waiting for you.”

“I can’t go through the gate. Not yet. I need more time. I need more training.”

“There’s no more time to be had. You know the gate only opens twice a year. Today’s the day, my friend.”

“What if I wait six more months? I can go when the gate opens then. I can get the training I need and go later.…”

Dax folds his arms in front of his large chest. “Don’t be absurd.”

“Why is that absurd? The Elites receive years of specialized training in case they are Chosen. Why send someone like me without it?”

“Because you’re the one the Oracle chose. For this time and this purpose.”

“But what if I’m not the right choice? Rowan is right. I’m predictable in my impulsiveness. I’m weak.”

Brim sinks her claws into my knee.

“Rowan is wrong,” Dax says.

I glance at him.

“Don’t listen to a word that koprophage says. I know you better than anyone. Yes, you’re impulsive, but that doesn’t make you weak. It means you listen to your emotions.”

I suck a breath in between my teeth. That’s an insult if I’ve ever heard one. Emotions are something to be stamped out, controlled, not listened to.

“What I mean to say is that you are equipped with unique traits that make you well suited for the mortal world. They’re the reason why the Oracle chose you—I’m sure of it.”

I shake my head. He might as well have called me a human—and meant it as a compliment. Dax has never been the same since his time in the Overrealm. It’s as though being declared a failure permanently altered his psyche. I want to laugh at him but something stops me. “They should declare the Oracle addled, just like you,” I mumble instead, “if she thinks the entire future of the Underrealm lies on my shoulders.”

“Did she tell you that?”

I nod. “Obviously, she’s gone insane.” I pick up a rock from the ledge—probably something one of the owls brought up here—and chuck it toward the moat below. Brim tenses and follows the rock with her eyes, but she knows better than to jump from the window to chase it. Her getting wet wouldn’t be good for anyone involved. “Perhaps I should tell the Court that I resign as Champion. Tell them to send Rowan in my place.”

“You will do nothing of the sort,” Dax says. “This is your chance, Haden. Your chance to show them who you really are. They think Rowan is the best in your age group, but that’s only because they ruled you out long ago. Make them pay attention now.”

“They’re never going to look at me as anything other than the embodiment of disgrace.”