Page 31 of Shadows of the Crown

“What is she talking about?” That snags his attention, the rest of my family turning their eyes to me.

“You’d believe thewraithand accuse your own king of such transgressions?”

“I’ve accused you of nothing, father. However, you assigned me to coordinate all three trials. I wrote their riddles myself, and I amcertain Ariella’s would not have led to such wounds.” I gesture to her chest, snatching my hand back when the warmth of her body shocks my fingers. She watches me thoughtfully, searching for an answer to whatever preconceived conclusion she held before storming in here like a vision in red.

She holds out an egg-shaped object, and I note the tremor in her arm. My eyes widen as I lean forward. It has the distinct casing of the artifacts we distributed, though I inspected each of them and this egg was not among the rest. It curiously is not the pendant I picked for Ariella’s trial, either.

“Don’t worry,Your Majesty, I was sure not to harm the griffin. No laws were broken.”

“Griffin?” I exclaim loudly. My jaw slacks, and she nods imperceptibly at me before a predatory smile cracks the dried blood along her cheek.

She speaks softly, rage threaded through every word. “My sincerest apologies that your plan to kill me did not succeed, Thalion. Thanks for the challenge, though.” Vespera sucks in a breath, a hand slapping over her widened mouth. Ariella’s eyes flit to the pile of artifacts, causing her to press the egg at her side and raise an eyebrow to my father. “This will remain in my possession.”

She turns on her heel and saunters through the massive audience without being dismissed. Even after facing a griffin, she still holds herself as if it were a trivial matter.

The reality of the situation slams into me then. She stood against a fucking griffin and lived…and the egg? She must have gotten it from the griffin’s nest—

She's fucking incredible.

I watch as her form turns the corner, silver flicking through the air is the last I see of her. Why am I so shocked? Of course she survived a griffin encounter—there is nothing that wicked woman cannot do.

Except heal herself.

Does she know where to find the healers? Before I can consider the consequences, I’m running away from my father’s throne. He yells for me to return once, not embarrassing himself with a second command when I do not even acknowledge the first. I’ll likely be punished for this later.

The intrigued whispers of the audience are blurry streaks at the edge of my vision. The men stationed at the doors look to the king as I approach, standing down at the dismissal he most likely gave.

He abhors creating familial drama in the presence of his people. A quality I am currently thankful for.

Flashes of Ariella’s tired eyes, heavy breathing, and trembling arm push me faster. Perhaps it is cruel to hope she fell unconscious so that I may carry her to the healers. I’m certain she’d drive her blade into me for doing so, but the thought only makes me smile.

It would be worth having her fury directed at me.

The fire in her eyes is intoxicating on the worst of days, but when she focuses those burning intentions on me?

“Fuck.” It’s quiet, but I relax slightly at her voice.

I peek around the corner of a dark, unused hallway to where she leans against the wall with her eyes scrunched closed. It may be the lack of light, but her skin appears more pale than it was several minutes ago. She was certainly concealing the dire nature of her wounds, and they are much worse than I had thought. Something claws at my chest, imploring me to rush to her.

“Ariella.” Her name is a whisper on my lips, the taste of it warm and reassuring. She tenses but doesn’t open her eyes.

“Fuck off, prince.” I press fingers to my lips; now is not an appropriate time to tease the wraith. I pause next to her and drink in her presence.

Only one person may win this competition. I need it to be her.

It’s a relief to find the clarity I’ve been warring with.

It is also a comfort that she’s coherent enough to snap at me. “You need to see a healer—”

“No.”

“These are not mere scratches, Ariella. Please let me take you to Elowen; she is our best and—”

“I said no, prince.” Her eyes open this time, pinning me with a glare that dares me to ask again.

I nod, caught in the depths of burning emerald. It’s a strange realization to know I would do anything she asks. These feelings are too intense to think of, so instead I take a different approach.

“How can I aid you, then? Surely you do not want others finding you in the hallway struggling with your wounds?” That captures her attention. Her heavy eyes search mine as she chews on that damn lip.

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