The grand throne room of the Glass Castle was colder than Thalia Blackwood expected. It wasn’t the crisp air that cut through her—though the castle’s high ceilings and stone walls trapped the chill—but the tension that wrapped around every inch of the room. She stood in line with 23 other competitors, each with their own sponsor, all waiting for the king’s arrival. The low murmur of whispers echoed off the stone walls, adding to the weight of anticipation that clung to the air like a fog.
Thalia shifted her weight slightly, her eyes skimming over the other contestants. She quickly sized them up, noting the bulging muscles and scarred faces. Most of them looked like they had crawled out from the underbelly of the empire—mercenaries, thieves, and outright killers. Few of them seemed to have
