Page 17 of Shadows of the Crown

My hands immediately reach for the cool object and attempt to find its clasp. A few of the others curse, demanding to know what’s happening. The people on the sides of the room are either running out or watching with hesitancy. I look to Caspian once more, promising the death of his entire family for this.

My threat does nothing as he doesn’t seem worried about me, but instead worriedforme?

Nauseating laughter forces my awareness to Thalion, who places a hand on his abdomen. “Oh, my! Did I forget to mention a few of the rules during the initiation ceremony? I suppose I did.” He chuckles, shaking his head as if this was some slip of the mind.

“There will not just be one winner after the three trials, but also only one survivor. In this castle, your lives belong to me. The devices you now wear have been created specifically to track you. They are only removable at my touch, so you will not succeed in any attempt to unfasten them.

“From this moment forward, you will not step foot out of Valoria, and if you leave the castle grounds, you will return by midnight. Break either of those rules, or attempt to tamper with your devices in any manner, and their defensive response will ignite, leaving you headless.”

Aether damn me as I am one broken thread of restraint away from advancing on the king right now and ending all of this here. However, given the circumstances, I know every competitor would most likely be killed. Including Isaiah.

Fuck, how am I supposed to plan the king’s death while simultaneously ensuring Is wins the competition? Everything will need to be timed just right. I should have known better than to allow his participation, but that part of the past is negligible. I will ensure he wins these trials.

“No questions? Wonderful! Off you go, then.” Thalion dismisses our group with the wave of a hand as he walks down to our level and leaves the room with a fully guarded escort.

I spare no one a last glance before striding through the center of the slick floor, leaving crimson footprints behind me as I head to my room.

Chapter Ten

Ariella

Bland walls and watchful paintings blur the more distance I gain from the throne room. Isaiah bolted after me as I left, insisting he join, but that intention was shut down instantly. He understands the frustrations that emerge when someone outsmarts me, but to have the king himself do it?

I am positively seething with a feral energy that I do not trust myself to hold in around him.

I have dedicated nearly my entire life to being the best. It’s essential. Who else would seek justice for my father? There is no one else, so it must be me. And for so many years, I had convinced myself that the retribution required for what Thalion did was to take his life, but that would be the simple answer. I want to wrench the soul out of his body, just like mine was torn from me that day.

I could take the heads of queen Seraphina or Vespera, but he does not seem very fond of them. No, it’s the prince I see by Thalion’s side. The one he confides in and guides through all the ridiculous royal politics.

His heir. That is precisely the death that will wound him the most.

And when the prince is dead, I vow to claim the life of every heir he creates thereafter. There will benothingleft of the Blackwood name. The king will fear every moment of his remaining days; continuously peering over his shoulder, aware of my eyes on his every move. Scared to let anyone in, worried that I may decide to visit.

Tracking collars.

These must be commissioned from Lumarna, as I highly doubt the king would seek out the inventors in Auroria. Both cities are famed for their proclivity to push boundaries; wordlessly competing to be at the forefront of integrating magic with the latest technology.

And once I am done with everything I need to do here, I will find whoever made these and force them to regret creating the thing that threatened Isaiah’s life.

The collar shifts as I stalk toward my room, and I reach up to feel it once more. It’s rounded, no edges along any of its length. I do not recognize the material, either…it’s cool like metal, though hard like glass—but it isn’t either of those things. I search for the hinge, or a raised point where it would lock together, but there are none. The smooth surface wraps its entirety, leaving me unsure of how I’d get it off even if I did wish to try.

My steps halt at a corner when panicked breathing reaches my ears, along with periodic whimpering. I listen for a moment, walking into the next hall when there is no scuffling or other struggles to be heard. Ally leans against the wall, pressing a dirty rag to the side of her face as she quietly sobs to herself. My lip curls.

I mean to walk past her, but she notices me as I approach, eyes lighting up. “Oh, Ariella! I am so happy to see you…I don’t know how to fix this.” She removes the rag, and I hum at the deep gash that runs from her cheek down the side of her neck. The blood running over her clavicle into her shirt is a nice contrast to her dark hair and bright eyes.

“Have you ever heard of a healer?”

“Well,” she scoffs, wincing as she presses the rag to her side once more. Disgusting—she’s just asking for an infection. “I just don’t want anyone thinking of me as weak for going to the healer…”

I blink. “Why the fuck would that matter? I’m sure they’d think you weak for dying from a healable injury, but that’s your choice.” I shrug, crossing my arms.

“Okay, fine! Will you take me? I don’t know the way there…” She uses a hand to straighten from the wall, watching me expectantly.

“No.” Do I havekind and helpfulwritten across my forehead?

A deep groan. “Please? I’m not sure how I’d find anyone else in time!” I nod to my left and begin walking, if only to shut her dramatics up.

“You don’t seem to know much of anything,” I mutter when she catches up, her body swiveling with her feet as she’s still holding her wound.

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