‘Fingers crossed one of them’ll crush that lying, vindictive bastard.’ I turn to my side to see Estel standing there, her jaw locked. From the way her eyes are trained on the prince, there’s no doubt as to who she’s talking about. Clearly there’s something in the rumour I heard about Kyor and her sister.

‘It’s her,’ Llinos murmurs as she stiffens beside me, drawing my attention away from Estel.

The High Priestess Mila strides across the sand, her robe billowing in the salt-filled breeze as her amethyst stone reflects the midday sun. As she stops directly in front of three of the jötnar, I release Jonas’s hand and feel for the dagger at my side. I’m not sure what good a blade like this will do against a giant, but daggers are all I have.

‘Rettlings, welcome to your first trial.’

Mila’s voice booms around us and several of the jötnar snarl at the sound, their lips curling back from their sharp, pointed, yellow teeth.

Somewhere across the way, I hear a whimper from one of the other Rettlings, and I can’t say I blame them.

‘This trial will be timed.’ She waves her hand and a platform, complete with a priestess and a ten-foot hourglass sand timer, appears to the left of us. A simple cloaking spell, I assume, and though it looks good, I can’t help but wonder if Etta really asked for such dramatics at the first honouring of her name.

‘Your task is straightforward. Those of you who survive the next thirty minutes will live to see another day.’

Thirty minutes. One thousand and eight hundred seconds. That’s all I have to stay alive for. Easy.

‘The time will begin when each of you sets foot on the sand,’ she continues. ‘But there is another caveat. Any of you who bring down a jötunn permanently will immediately be removed from the trial and excused from the second trial as a reward.’

Gasps, mutters, and murmurs ripple around us.

‘Is that even something she can do?’ I whisper. ‘Can she excuse Rettlings from one of the trials?’

‘She’s the High Priestess of Etta.’ Jonas shrugs. ‘She’s the one who hears what the Goddess wants.’

‘Rettlings, take your places.’ The High Priestess lifts her hand to beckon us forward and then moves to the platform.

There are forty of us and nine jötnar. That means four-point-four people for each giant. Obviously not an even number, but with the variation in the sizes of people’s allegiances, some of the bigger groups could split into two or more. But the announcement of the reward changes everything.

Surely everyone will want to bring down a jötunn alone? It’s a mess. Suddenly, we’re not just fighting the giants. We’re fighting each other, too.

The line of Rettlings begins moving forward, heading onto the beach. Several people drag their heels – one or two out of fear, but others, like myself, are trying to work out which jötunn will be easiest to take down.

‘Our alliance still holds,’ Benny announces firmly as our group huddles together. ‘It doesn’t matter which one of us takes it down, right? If any of us get excused from the second trial, then that’s a win.’

‘Right,’ I agree.

My heart is beating so fast that I’m having to remind myself to breathe as I move forward. As fear threatens to consume me, Zelle’s words of advice echo in my mind. I know myself. I know that I was accepted into the Retterheld because I deserve to be here. Which means Etta believes I have the strength to survive this.

A spark of confidence flickers inside me, and I glance over my shoulder, counting the moments until the last person steps onto the sand. Then a snarl, raw and alien, shatters the air. The sound is deafening – a thousand times louder than the bell this morning – and accompanied by a rancid smell that burns the back of my throat.

Chaos breaks loose.

The jötnar are dressed in rough garb, and though they don’t seem to have weapons, it’s clear that they don’t need them. They’re waving their arms, growling, snarling, and simply bending down and scooping up sand and Rettlings alike. I watch in muted horror as one body is flung towards the sea, into the white-capped waves. I don’t need to look to see if they stand again. There’s no chance of surviving that.

Some of the Rettlings are running, running straight to the edge of the water, as if being there will save them. Instead, it just pins them in if a jötunn comes for them. Not the wisest move.

Then there’s the magic.

This entire place is filled with it. Fire is hurled from every direction, but it doesn’t seem to touch the giants, and blasts of wind that would have me flat on my back appear to do little more than irritate them. It’s not that they’re impervious to the Rettlings’ powers; they’re simply too big for the magic to affect them to a significant enough degree.

I glance at Zara and find her standing frozen, her face twisted in concentration. She’s trying to open up whatever wounds they have, and though it seems to be working – there are certainly a few bleeding gashes appearing on the jötunn she’s fixated on – it’s primarily just making him angrier.

It’s the people who are running around that seem to be getting the brunt of the force of our enemy, the giants swatting them like flies.

‘We have to bring them down,’ I say grimly. ‘There’s no way we’ll survive for thirty minutes just dodging them.’

‘Agreed,’ Llinos replies.

‘That one, the one with the jagged scar,’ Jonas yells. It’s hard to hear him over the roar of the giants, so he points again.

‘No!’ Benny shouts. ‘That one.’

He gestures towards a jötunn at the back of the group. Even the smallest of the monsters are at least thirty feet, but the one Benny picked must have another ten feet on that.

Ignoring Benny, Jonas tugs me towards the jötunn he picked, but the Eastern Islander shakes his head.

‘That one,’ Benny says again, more adamantly this time.

I pull my hand from Jonas’s grip. ‘He can see,’ I say, hoping Benny doesn’t mind me sharing what his power is. ‘He can see, Jonas. He knows which one to go for. Trust us, please.’

Jonas looks between us, pressing his lips together. ‘It’s enormous.’

‘Trust me,’ I plead.

A muscle twitches along his jaw. ‘Fine, but only if you remember what I said,’ he murmurs before sprinting across the sand towards Benny.

As I move to follow them, a figure appears at my side. Estel.

‘You want another pair of hands?’ she asks.

Since we’re facing giants, I give the only reply I can. ‘Absolutely. The more the merrier.’

Together, we race towards the others who are now less than twenty feet from the colossal creature Benny chose.

‘What are we doing?’ I yell above the roars.

‘His legs,’ Benny hollers back. ‘He’s struggling to hold weight on them. I’m guessing he took the biggest beating when the priestesses brought them here. It hurts him to walk, meaning we don’t have to worry about him kicking out or chasing us. We just have to worry about his fists.’

‘That’s not exactly a little worry!’ Jonas shouts, jumping back as the jötunn bends down and swings at us. His clenched fist is easily the size of a carriage, and it hurtles through the air with such a force that even the wind it creates is enough to unbalance me.

As I watch, powerless, Llinos sends a blast of air at his chest. It doesn’t stop him, but he slows by a fraction.

‘He’s in pain,’ Estel reminds us. ‘And that just made him angrier.’

She’s an empath – another skill that’s absolutely useless in this scenario. We’ve no fire wielders or anyone who can raise the temperature of the jötunn’s blood until it boils. Just people who can look and hear and feel its emotion. Brilliant.

‘Jonas.’ I turn to the only one of us, besides Llin, whose magic physically does something. ‘Can you use your powers on him? Maybe if he’s disoriented, we can lead him into the sea.’

‘I can try,’ he says dubiously.