“Take a seat, Son,” the king announces, emphasis on the word son. The bitter aftertaste of the word making me clench my fists. My eyes go to his, his gaze leaving a burn mark on my skin. My eyes find those of my older brother, who is seated next to the king. He shrugs, and with that, I take a seat next to the others around the table.
“First, I would like to say thank you,” the king speaks up, lifting from his seat. “I gathered you here for a special reason. I bet none of you have any idea what is coming.” He looks around the room and his eyes meet mine for a split second, before he slips on that dead glare of him again.
“But trust me, when I say this has been in my planning for almost 18 years. I am proud to announce that in two weeks there will be a trial. It will be something none of you have ever seen before. It is going to be the talk of the century.”
Some people gasp. Others whisper with their neighbor. It is the first time I give myself a chance to look around as I hold onto my rails tightly. The people around me are not our servers or guards. No—they are definitely not.
The leaders of the villages and cities of Drimyé are sitting next to me. I look at my brother who is now tapping his foot and shifting awkwardly in his seat, trying to hold his head high. He is tapping his fingers on the table while avoiding my look. He knows what is coming. And I don’t. I can’t help but ball my hands into fists and clench my jaw while I continue to listen to the king.
“It will be survival of the best. Everyone with a signet can sign up, and I mean anyone,” he says, shooting a look in my olderbrother’s Zephron direction. “It will be a chance to show what power you have. It is the chance to show what you got and be named the winner of the one and only trial Drimyé will ever see,” he continues.
“If you’re able to survive and win, there will be a price. It includes an amount of money and wealth some of you have never seen before. Wealth so good that the winner and their family never have to worry about money again. Of course, you will also win the honor and title of being the winner of the first and only trials of Drimyé.”
He clears his throat, eyes sparkling with enthusiasm.
“And the winner will get a big role at the palace. A role only the strongest of strongest can fulfil. A role that will be announced after you won the trials, a role that will make you even stronger. The trials are a place to reveal secrets or hide truths. It is place where you will find answers to questions I can’t reveal yet, or might never be able to.”
I watch everyone in shock, mouth open and silent before the enthusiasm kicks in. Loud cheering erupts in the room.
I stay silent and feel everything sink. What is this going to mean for us? Our continent? What is the role? I don’t even have the time to think about what kind of consequences this is going to have.
“Silence!” the king demands, his voice low as he lets out a loud growl. “I wasn’t done talking yet. There is one little thing about this trial I didn’t tell you before. I have one contestant already. When the trials start and you see her, you will all know what my mystery contestant is and why I chose her.” He grins.
Without entertaining a word of protest, the king sweeps out, his long cloak billowing behind him as he nods for two servants to lay it down just right. Some weird feelings fill my gut. Without a moment of hesitation, I open my mouth.
“I volunteer!” I blur out, lifting from my chair.
All eyes race towards me, and I repeat my words, quieter this time.
“I volunteer,” I announce, holding my head high.
The king stops and turns around. Everybody goes silent as they watch the king’s reaction.
A grin.
That’s all he gives me before he continues to walk out.
My brother, who just jumped up, is starting to hurry to me.
“You shouldn’t do this, this is not for you,” he hisses out, looking worried. I lift my brow in frustration.
“It isn’t your choice to make Zephron . You have had your chance. You don’t get to make decisions for me anymore, Zephron. I am a 20-year-old adult who can do whatever he wants. You should have taken your chance to care for me when I was a 4-year-old and needed you,” I speak up, not showing any emotion, but not able to ignore the lump in my throat. “I don’t need you anymore and made my decision. I want to enter the trials. Now, if you will all excuse me.”
I don’t give any of them the time to answer. I shove my chair back, stand up and walk away. I feel the urge to run, but keep my head cool and walk calm and collected out of there, feeling everybody’s gaze on my back. I open the door, just twisting my hand and slam it close after me as the tingle burns my fingers. I am not sure if I did the right thing there. But what is the point of living if you never prove yourself? Never knowing what you’re capable of? Never letting the world know what you’re capable of? Staying unsure of yourself and being the laughingstock your whole life can’t make you happy. I want someone to be proud. The king, my brother, or just anyone. Or at least learn how to be proud of myself. Staying stuck in this routine doesn’t make me proud. It doesn’t make me happy, that is one thing that isn’t up for discussion.
As I walk through the hall of the palace, I can’t pretend that I don’t hear the whispers going around. There is no going back now. The word is already spread. Probably half the continent knows already that I want to enter the trials. And what are they going to do about it? Nothing probably. Letting a prince enter the trials will only be good advertising for the rest of the applications. The king didn’t even look scared when I shouted that I wanted to enter. He looked almost relieved that he will be rid of me, at least for a while. He probably is glad I will be gone, but I am not entering this fucking thing with the thought of not returning. I will not keep my head down anymore. This time, I won’t go silent. I won’t be the fall guy. I will show them who I really am. I will show the king I am worthy.
I will show him who I am.
Chapter 3
Eliane
There is a knock on the window, the kind of knock you hear when someone throws a small stone against it. I jump on the couch and push the window up. A small white pigeon, holding a paper, appears from behind the frame. I extend my hand, and as if the pigeon understands the invite, he lays the newspaper in it.
“Thank you,” I breathe out, giving the pigeon a small nod. His beady eyes give me a small blink before he spreads his wings and flies away. And yes, even such a remote house as ours gets the newspaper, only not the usual way. When Da was younger, he trained pigeons to bring us our mail, or at least that is the story he told me. I turn around, my fingers already going through the paper, pulling the pages apart as I flop down on our fluffy couch.
“Da,” I voice, my heart pounding harder as I flip through the pages carefully, making sure I don’t miss a thing. I knew there would be an announcement soon, but this feels too soon. Feet stamp on the wooden panels of the floor, my gaze stuck on a news article.
