Her voice keeps repeating in my mind, no matter how hard I try to shut it out. I don't want to hear it anymore—I just don’t know how to make itstop.
The rest of the meal carries on without me. Laughter. Light jabs between the other champions. Serenya joinsin here and there, poised but present, watching them all with a calculating eye.
Saying little, I just pick at my food, barely touch my drink, and only glance her way once more, just long enough to see her not looking at me. Somehow, that stings more than anything.
When the meal finally ends, I almost slip back to my chambers without having to talk to anyone.Almost.
“What's wrong with you, Koen?”
The words slice through the quiet corridor, and my jaw tightens automatically. I freeze, turning to face Serenya. The one person I don’t want to deal with right now. My muscles ache, my head pounds from the training, from the lack of sleep, from that damn dream that won’t leave me. Every step I’ve taken since leaving the dining hall has been toward solitude, and here she is, like a blade across my path.
“I’m not sure what you mean,” I say, keeping my tone neutral, forcing calm I don’t feel.
Her gaze sharpens, her eyes pinning me in place. “Did something happen?”
I glance at the ceiling, needing to escape, needing to put some space between my patience and her scrutiny. The exhaustion presses against me, heavy, almost suffocating. Why the hell does she care? She makes it very clear she doesn’t likeme—sometimes even goesout of her way to show it. So—
“Why do you care, Serenya?” The words slip out colder than I intended, but I don’t take them back. My hands ball into fists at my sides. I can feel my teeth clenching, making my jaw ache.
Her blink is small, but I catch it. Surprise. Not many speak to her like that, and maybe that gives me a little satisfaction.
When she doesn’t answer, I sigh harshly, sharp enough that it echoes in the empty corridor. “I’m not in the mood for games today. You don’t really like me. You’ve made that perfectly clear. Many times. So why do you care?”
There’s a beat of silence. Her laugh comes then, low, dry, almost venomous, and it stings more than I expect. No warmth, no lightness. Just a reminder that she holds all the power here.
“You’re right,” she says finally, her tone clipped and controlled. “I must have forgotten myself for a moment. Don’t worry, it won’t happen again.” Without waiting for a reply, she pivots sharply and storms down the corridor, booted footsteps echoing behind her.
I stand there, hands trembling slightly from both exhaustion and anger. My gaze lingers on her retreating form, the curve of her back, the tilt of her shoulders.
I run a rough hand down my face, fingertips pressing into the tense muscles along my jaw and cheeks. A bitter laugh escapes my throat, but it’s hollow. My feet finally carry me forward, each one heavy and reluctant, toward the door of my chambers.
I let out a long, shuddering breath, openthe door, andstepinside. Alone. I should be glad, but even in solitude, her presence lingers in my mind. I tell myself it’s the exhaustion, the dream, the endless training…but I know it’s more.
The quiet is absolute, but it doesn’t bring relief. I sink onto the edge of my bed, muscles trembling, chest tight, and realize I’m still replaying her laugh, her gaze, her words. And I’m not sure I want to stop.
Chapter 15
?---- Serenya ? ----?
The wind has a bite to it this morning, sharp with the scent of rain and something more—an unease that clings to the back of my throat.
I stand on the stone balcony of my father’s chambers, my hands resting lightly on the railing as I gaze down at the gathering below. My cloak—deep violet and lined with gold thread—billows softly behind me in the breeze.
Koen, Aren, Asbel, and Lioran stand in the courtyard below, spaced apart but each radiating their own energy. Some are confident, some quieter in their focus.
My mother steps forward now. She addresses them from atop the marble stairs, her voice magically amplified to carry over the courtyard and into the surrounding balconies.
“You now stand on the threshold of the second trial,” she says, her tone formal but not unkind. “This time, you will be taken to a place beyond any kingdom’s borders, a forgotten region that has long been abandoned, and for good reason. The land is treacherous, and it does not welcome life.”
I listen carefully, with my heart in my throat, as my mother continues, “The trial region is vast, nearly the size of a kingdom, though no banner has ever been known to fly over it. It’s a drowned land, shallow waters stretching for miles, broken only by a scattering of small, dry isles and half sunken ruins from a civilization long lost—the reasons for their fall unknown. Perhaps the land itself turned against them.”
I shift slightly, and my eye flicks to Koen’s still figure. He stands near Torin, face half-shadowed, his expression unreadable.
“Each of you will be placed separately in different locations near the region’s center. Your goal is to make your way to your portal at the outer edge. Its location will be marked on the map you are given. You will have one week.”
A low murmur rises among the guards stationed below. One week in an unknown place teeming with water and ruins and whatever now lives among them.
My stomach churns. I say nothing, but my father, reclining behind me on the cushioned bench, murmurs quietly, “That’s the same look your mother wore before each of my trials.”
