Page 4 of Shadows of the Crown

I step out of the doors and walk slowly down the steps to the cobblestone street below, stretching my neck and shoulders. It’s early morning, but the sun has already brightened the tops of Valoria’s buildings. The mountains behind the guild shine too brightly at their peaks, where snow forever rests. I spin, not wishing to be blinded today, and focus on the beaming castle inthe distance. Fire races through my veins, and I suddenly have the energy for double my normal run today.

Taking the last few steps down, I brace to begin running when a hand grabs my shoulder. I snatch the target’s wrist, twisting it under as I turn to face whoever dared to grab me. I see my best friend’s pained face and smirk. He knows better—it’s his own fault.

“All right, all right, Ari!” I release him and cross my arms, raising my brows at his audacity. “Fuck, you get stronger every day.” He glances at me and laughs at my unbothered expression.

“One of these days I won’t hesitate to snap your arm, Is.” I jerk my head toward the path behind me and we start running.

I canfeelhis eyes burning the side of my face, but keep mine forward. “You are a wonderfully wicked woman, Your Majesty.” I throw my head back and laugh; Isiah loves to string words together like that, something he’s been fond of since we were children. When we met for the first time he said to me,“Wow, you have superbly, striking, shimmery silver hair!”Marek had to hold me back from ripping his balls off at what I had thought was an insult, only for us to become friends the next day.

He also has taken to calling me majesty, though I keep asking him not to. He insists that such a powerful, strong, beautiful woman like me is wasted in the lesser district. That I should be in the castle, wearing silky fabrics and having tea with the royals. The thought makes me gag—there’s not achance he would ever find me associating with any of those deplorable people. Maybe Vespera, the young princess, though I’m sure the rest of them have gotten their venomous claws into her already.

“What’s on your mind today? You seem distracted,” he asks, ripping me away from my consuming thoughts.

I peek over at him. His tousled, dark hair bounces with his movements, and deep brown eyes bore into mine, worry etched into their creases. My gaze lands on the scar running across his left cheek, and I look away from the bleak reminder of my failure to protect him.

“I’m just tired. I got back late and didn’t get much sleep.” A partial truth, though Isiah knows there’s always something more than that. Thankfully he doesn’t press, always understanding when I don’t wish to talk about things.

We continue to run, Isaiah following my lead as I turn us directions we rarely go. He doesn’t question me, though, trusting my resolve enough to shadow me to whatever destination I have in mind. Eventually, we stop on a street in front of the castle gates, and I rest my hands on my hips as I get my breathing under control.

The royal guards do not even look our way, though I’m sure they’re used to many people stopping to gawk at the Eldorian castle. I cannot see much past the wall that surrounds the extremely large building, but through the gate I spot a fountain that takes up a good amount of the courtyard. The fountain is made ofdeep, gray stone; in the middle is a griffin standing on its back legs—facing the sky—roaring, while water shoots from its beak. I’ve never seen a griffin up close, which makes me wonder if the fountain accurately represents their size.

Behind the fountain, the castle rises as tall as I imagine the Elysaran mountains to be. That’s definitely an exaggeration, but I swear the castle, and the land it's on, is as large as Valoria. Honestly, who needs that much space? There are children brought to us every season, who are hungry and on their last thread of life…all while one singular, unforgiving family liveshere? It’s fucked up. I guarantee they don’t utilize more than fifteen percent of it. That space could be used to shelter those who need it, even if just for a short time.

I shake my head; I don’t know why I plague myself with these thoughts. The king would never do something so generous as to offer unused space to uslessers.

Fuck him. Fuck their whole family.

Isaiah places a gentle hand on my arm, comforting me in the only way he knows how. He’s a tender soul—always in touch with others’ emotions. Ready to be a helping hand to anyone who is going through a hard time.

He knows what the royals did to my father. He knows about the nightmares that I still have of that day. His room is directly next to mine and the walls are not soundproof, so of course he’s aware of the terrorsI hide behind them.

He doesn’t, however, know of my plans. He doesn’t need to. Everyone will find out soon enough.

Chapter Three

Ariella

Noah releases a frustrated sound for the eighth time this session and throws down his blade.

“I can’t do it, Ari! It’s impossible!” He exclaims. His eyes gloss over, and I can tell he’s trying hard not to let the tears fall over the edge.

I kneel in front of him, looking into his sad azure irises. We do not always know the age of the children that are brought into the guild, but I would guess Noah is around eleven. He runs his hand through his hair again, making it look like someone twisted a fork through the blonde strands.

“I know this is difficult—” I start, but he interrupts, shouting at this point.

“No, you don’t! You’re good at everything you do, no matter what it is…I can’t even hold a blade right!” His lip trembles, but his cheeks remain dry.

I bite the inside of my cheek hard—comforting others andoffering soothing words is not a quality I possess. I’m not good at this, especially with a child. “Noah, where do you think I started? Hm?” I watch as he processes what I’m trying to say. “I was just as young as you once. When I got here, I couldn’t even hold a kitchen knife correctly. That’s why they gave me to Marek…I was completely hopeless and needed the extra training. But I worked hard, pushed myself out of my comfort space, and now here I am.”

Was that good enough?

His eyes well up a little more.By the Angel,please don’t cry.

“You mean you used to be worse than me?” He rubs his temple, avoiding his eyes, and I can see some of the heavy emotions dissipating.

Okay, maybe I can do this.

“Yes, I was much worse than you!” I smile at his strained laugh. “I’m not giving you a heavy blade to upset you. It’s important that you learn how to wield different weapons, especially ones that aren’t made for your stature. Because when you’re out there,” I point at the window to my right, “you may not have access to your favorite blade. Maybe you’ll need to use someone else’s. And if that were to ever happen, you’ll be thankful you know how to adapt.”

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