“As I was saying,” Lord Cahir replies, his voice slow and deliberate, “there will be a dinner upon their arrival. The first trial will begin the following morning. As per tradition, we don’t give them time to prepare. It's a test of instinct and adaptability.”
My mother speaks next. “The dinner is so you may meet them and get to know them. The trials reveal what cannot be seen at first glance, but you will still get your choice of anyone who is still standing by the end.”
General Alis, voice deep and gravely, adds, “The dinner is no pleasantry. Observe them closely, Princess. What they do and don’t say will tell you more than any trial.”
I nod once. “What happens after the first trial?”
“They’ll have two weeks to recover and train,” my mother says. “The second tests strength, but more than that, resilience. We don’t want a kingof muscle only. He must endure.”
“And the third?” I should already know these details, but I’ve been avoiding talking about the trials any time the topic comes up. It hurt too much to think about it. Now I regret not mentally preparing myself more.
A silence settles. My mother’s voice lowers. “After the second, they’ll have a month to prepare. The final trial will test them the most. We can’t say more than that. As you well know, you will also be participating. To prove your worth to your people.”
My fingers dig into my sweaty palms, and my shadows stir with unease.
“There will be a ball the night before,” she adds gently. “A final moment of peace.”
A ball. A chance to speak…or perhaps to say goodbye. Every second that goes by, it gets harder to keep my face neutral.
“They’re already calling this generation cursed,” a councilman mutters.
I square my shoulders, lifting my chin slightly. “Then we’ll prove them wrong.”
The meeting dissolves into talk of patrols and lodging. I think they may have even mentioned trades with Queen Elowen of Araluen, but my thoughts are on the men who will soon walk these halls. Strangers now. One of them, my future. Syltheriel’s future.
When I’m dismissed, Torin walks beside me. “They treat the trials like ancient scripture,” he mutters. “But it’s only a glorified way to choose someone to share power.”
“And yet, here we are,” I answer.
“Lucky you.”
I don’t reply, my gaze drifting to the clear blue sky beyond the windows in the corridor. “They think they are coming here for glory. They have no idea what they’re walking into.”
Torin’s brown eyes study me. “Do you even want one of them to win?”
I sigh as my shoulders fall forward. “Not exactly. No. But I do want them all to survive. I don’t want any more death.”
Silence stretches. Then he says, “I know what you need. Training. Come join Captain Merek and me.”
Merek. Kallan’sfather. I’d also avoided him when I could. Guilt has kept me away.
But training might help quiet my thoughts. So, despite myself, I nod. “Alright.”
------------? ? ? ? ?------------
The clang of steel echoes in the training yard as I circle Torin with my blade raised. Merek watches with hawk-like eyes.
“Guard up, Serenya,” he barks. “Torin is quicker when you get lazy.”
“I’m not—”
Torin lunges, cutting me off. I barely twist in time to parry.
He grins. “You were saying?”
I answer with a sharper push, driving him back, but he pivots low, nearly sweeping my legs. I leap clear, landing lightly.
“Better.” Merek crosses his arms. “But you’re still lettinghim set the pace. You want to win? Take control.”
