The Fifth City by Liz Delton

with Castle Tenny so far.
    The Lady made no comment on the interruption, and returned to eating her scone.  When Oliver came to collect Sylvia from the garden room, Lady Naomi wished her luck for tomorrow with her sly smile.
    Sylvia returned to her suite and stood in front of the fire in her cream gown, as much of a decadence as the frosted cake she had just eaten.  The boy who had interrupted her tea was already far from her mind, with the impending first Trial weighing heavily on her thoughts with each moment that passed.
    While she waited for Medina to come and help her out of her gown, she went to her pack, stored in the wardrobe by whoever came in to clean while she was gone.  She searched until she found the necklace her sister and mother had given her for her last birthday. 
    She held it up to the firelight, and stared into the depths of the colored glass bead.
    Her fist clenched tightly around the bead.  Tomorrow she would begin Seascape’s Trials.
    She would not fail Meadowcity.

 
    Eighteen
     
    Sylvia barely slept, and even when she did lose consciousness, she jolted awake soon after, plagued by dreams of oversleeping and missing the Trial.
    Sometime before dawn, with an exasperated sigh, she tore off the heavy covers and went to sit by the fire.  She took the glass bead off the mantle and tied it around her neck.  She would need its strength for whatever was coming today.
    Oliver had told her on their way back from tea yesterday that the opening ceremony would begin precisely at sunrise.  She gazed at the looking-glass and saw only a faint haze of pre-dawn light.
    Winter’s End.  At home she would be painting stones in bright colors to decorate her hearth, while the family would burn sweet-smelling herbs in the first fire of the spring.  They would throw open the doors and windows, and let in the new spring air.  The whole city would smell of lavender and thyme.
    She took a quick bath to refresh her mind and kill time, not knowing if, or when, Medina would come to prepare her for the ceremony.  She savored the scented soaps this time, thinking of home, and wondering how Meadowcity would celebrate the joyous holiday under the mantle of war.
    Sure enough, she heard Medina call out from the main room just as she was toweling off.  She took one last wistful second to herself, inhaling the fragrant steam, then opened the door to face the day.

 
    She emerged from the bathing room to see Medina draping a plain emerald tunic and black leggings on her bed.  Sylvia raised her eyebrows.  The fabric was decidedly lacking in substance.  No silver threads glinted at her in the dying firelight.
    “No datawoven fabric for today,” Medina offered, confirming Sylvia’s suspicion.
    Sylvia nodded mutely.  Breakfast had also appeared while Sylvia had been in the bath, but the thought of eating was far from her mind.  Her stomach would not allow it—it was nearly doing flips.
    Once Sylvia was dressed, Medina arranged her hair, now blonde as ever, the dye completely gone.  Medina pulled the front back and pinned it up, but left the rest to sweep her shoulders.  Sylvia took a deep breath as a knock came at the door.  The time had gone too quickly.
    With one last glance at her looking-glass, Sylvia left the suite.  She could only nod a wordless goodbye at Medina, who smiled encouragingly.
    The woman had given her sturdy leather-soled shoes today, and Sylvia felt more like herself as she followed Oliver through the endless white stone corridors.  They climbed several sets of stairs, and Sylvia came to realize that she had been living much further underground than she had imagined.  Finally they emerged into real sunlight, and she closed her eyes in joy at the feeling of it on her face.
    They stood on the steps of the castle, facing the city—which she had not even seen yet, having been brought in unconscious.  The city buildings were stone, but the streets and rooftops were covered in shining black, unlike