“That easy, huh?”
The corner of his mouth quirks, not quite in a smile, but close. “If you survive, I’ll teach you how to use them properly before the second trial.”
I nod, swallowing down the nerves and doubt threatening to rise to the surface. “And if I don’t?”
“Then you’ll be dead,” he says plainly, striding toward the door. “But at least no one will know how bad your form was.”
He pauses at the threshold. “You don’t have to be perfect. You just have to keep going.”
I stand in the quiet room, sword in hand, the weight of it settling into my bones. I flex my fingers around the hilt once, then twice.
I strap on the dagger, take a steadying breath, and follow the echo of Torin’s footsteps in the corridor. I stop when I see him speaking with the princess.
Serenya leans slightly toward him, whispering something I can’t hear, then glances over his shoulder. Her eyes land on me.
“Oh,” she says softly, as if surprised, “I didn’t realize you were busy.” She turns back to Torin, but the flicker of red in her eyes catches my attention. She’s been crying. My browsfurrow. Seeing the delicate flush in her cheeks and the redness beneath her eyes stirs something beneath my skin. My magic pulses involuntarily, wanting me to go to her. I force it down, angry at myself for feeling something so ridiculous. I don’t even know her.
“Never too busy for you, Ren,” Torin says quietly, his tone low, almost conspiratorial. “They assigned me to look after him during the duration of his time here. I would ask if you wanted to walk with us, but something tells me you wouldn’t want that.”
She gives him a small smile. “Thank you. I…” She takes a breath and clears her throat. “I’m fine. I was just on my way to visit my father.”
“Give the king my regards. Alira and I will find you later,” Torin adds, his voice gentle, almost protective. Her smile flickers again, fragile and sad, like the comfort he assumes she’ll feel by his words is just out of reach.
She steps toward me, and the small, teasing light in her expression surprises me. It’s forced, but still makes my chest twist in an unfamiliar way.
“Koen, right?”
I nod, letting a small smirk creep onto my face before I can stop it. “Yes. Or tavern boy, if you prefer.” Honestly, I don’t know why I say it. It irritated me when she called me that lastnight. Maybe I say it to lighten the mood, or maybe it’s because her eyes look like they could use a distraction. Even if I don’t particularly like her, I don’t like seeing her like this.
She laughs, soft and quiet, and the sound makes my heart beat harder. I already want to hear it again.
Wait…what? No, I don’t. Where did that come from?
“Tavern boy, it is,” she says, and I watch as her smile falters, just for a second, weighed down by something deeper. She straightens, forcing her composure back. “Um…Well, good luck today.” Her words are careful, polite, but I can see the exhaustion and sadness in her eyes that she’s trying to hide.
She tilts her head, and a playful glint appears in her eyes. “It would be awfully embarrassing for your friend if you died during the first trial. Especially after he went through all that trouble to get you here.”
The tease is light, and I feel a pull I can’t quite explain. I have to remind myself:You’re not here for her. You’re here because of drunken idiots.
Torin’s voice cuts through my spiraling thoughts. “Let’s go, Koen. You’re going to be late.”
I glance back at her as she walks away, words trailing in the air behind her.
“See you later, tavern boy.”
I can’t keep my gaze from following her, stubborn, unwilling to let her disappear from sight.
“Koen.”
My head snaps back to Torin, finding him watching me with raised brows. His expression hardens, seriousnow.
“I know you’re here for a competition that may lead to marriage with her, but be careful. I care about Serenya a lot. She’s like a sister to me. If you hurt her in any way—” He stops, locking eyes with me, voice low. “Iwillkill you. Royal trials be damned.That’show much I care for my family.”
I swallow hard, deciding not to tell him I don’t even likeher. Not that it would matter—something in my chest refuses to be quiet when she’s around.
He begins walking again, voice lightening to a frightening degree after his threat. “Let’s get you to your trial. And hey,” he calls over his shoulder, eyes gleaming. “If you don’t make it back, I won’t even have anything to worry about.”
As I follow, my mind drifts to the teasing edge of Serenya’s voice, the way she laughed, and the slight tremor in her hands that she tried to hide. Annoyingly, I feel drawn to her. It’s an unwelcome feeling.
