Page 7 of Shadows of the Crown

I was seventeen when we first met, eager and ready to follow in my father's footsteps. He was a couple of years older than me, though the youngest in the royal guard. I spotted him being pushed around by some of the more seasoned sentries, and though their jesting was to be expected, there was something I didn’t like about what I saw. I stopped their advances, snatching Gav's arm and pulling him with me to talk where the others wouldn’t overhear.

I smile at the memory.

“What’s your name?” I question once we were alone.

His wide, nervous eyes meet mine before he whispers, “Ga—” his throat clears, “Gavriel, Your Highness.”

“Do they do that to you often, Gavriel?” His brows furrow. “The other guards. Do they harm you often?”

His mouth flops twice before he’s able to answer. “Oh, no, Your Highness, they just like to joke around.” I raise a brow; it’s clear he’s lying, most likely not wanting to cause punishment for the others.

I don’t think I’m allowed to do this…but, fuck it. “Okay, Gavriel. From this day on, you will be my personal guard. Your room will be next to mine and you will have no interaction with the others unless I, or the king, deem it necessary. You will train with me daily and report to me instead of your current commander.”

My father was indeed angry. Not only was I forbidden to choose my own guard, but I'd chosen the youngest one, with the least amount of experience, who seriously needed a lesson in confidence. I pleaded with my father, and he eventually agreed to allow it as long as I had a second guard of his choice until he felt comfortable with Gavriel handling things himself.

We’ve been good friends since.

Closing the door behind us, I walk further into my room, depositing my sword against the bed. I strip my jacket, grimacing as it peels from my body in sticky increments. I throw that and the rest of my soaked clothing on the ground for staff to take care of. Not bothering to hide my nudity from Gav, I turn from the large bed to walk into my bathroom, sighing when my feet press into the cool tile.

A hiss falls through my lips as I step under the shower—the cold water stings for a moment, but I allow it to take over my body, numbing my senses and cooling my emotions.

“I can’t figure out what Thalion’s motive is for this competition,” Gav's voice breaks my concentration, and my gaze snaps up to find him leaning against the vanity, eyes closed as if he could rest there comfortably. “Sure, he says it’s to give back to the people, but that can’t be true…otherwise he wouldn’t have just assassins attending. What is the purpose of that?”

What is the purpose, indeed. I'm unsure of my father’s intentions—I’ve been mulling over the different possibilities for weeks but have come up with nothing plausible. Does he want to see the murderers of the kingdom? People he allows to exist under the guise that they discreetly deliver justice? My lip curls.

Or could he truly just want to help them? Is it possible he believes the assassins have it the worst out of everyone else, and they deserve the first chance at winning the gold?

Regardless of the reason, I’m also confused about my role with them. I understand organizing the trials and creating tasks that will test all of their abilities, but to oversee their care? What purpose could that serve? Surely they’re trained enough to handle the competition, and could use the equipment we’ll provide them to train on their own? Maybe they’ll feel more comfortable having someone from the royal family with them each day. I’m sure for the ones who are leaving their cities, being here will be a new, daunting experience.

“I don’t know my father’s reasons,” I mutter, scrubbing soap through my hair—one Gavriel truly enjoys teasing me for, as he claims it's too feminine for a prince.

But when is the last time he brought a woman to bed…

He gives me a knowing, pitying look. He understands how difficult this position is for me—being the king’s son. I wish to be fully supportive, but some of my father's decisions do not align with our family's supposed values. This competition, for example.Giving back to our people is good and necessary, but to do so in this way? It is not even trulyfor the people? I’m...conflicted. But, I will continue to support the crown, and the kingdom, even if I do not always agree.

I finish rinsing off and step out of the shower, tugging on my kinetic strand to drag over a towel, lest I continue swinging my dick in Gavriel's face.

“Show off,” Gav murmurs, and I laugh at his uninterested tone.

“How many times must we argue about this? You weave pyro, which is significantly better than my kinetic or aqua. Plus, it’s more impressive in women’s eyes.” I wag my eyebrows suggestively, and he barks out a laugh.

“Please—if I took even half as many women to bed as you do, I would believe that.”

“You,” I finish pulling on a loose, comfortable pair of pants and poke him in the chest, “have the better essence. I have the better title.” I jump backward as he reaches to shove my shoulder. Laughter builds inside my throat as I dodge his attempts to tackle me.

He catches my left leg and I topple to my side, throwing my hands up before he can begin his attack. “Okay, I surrender!” Sitting up to push him away, a wicked smile curves my lips before I mutter, “Go play with your fire. Find those women you werejust bragging about.” His eyes narrow, cursing under his breath as he stalks out of the room, leaving me alone.

I lie back on the rug, focusing my eyes on the cream stone that surrounds the residential parts of the castle. I trace the patterns as my eyelids grow heavy, creating a new story for myself with each crease and fold.

Chapter Five

Ariella

Alight drizzle catches my skin as Isaiah and I walk through theillustriousEldorian castle gates. I keep my hood up, as most of the others I see outside, not desiring to be soaked by the time we’re done with whatever this ceremony is. I also do not wish to alert each person here of who I am just yet. It’s absurd, all the competitors gathering in the castle’s arena just to show us off to the people. I will not be able to get a good look at the other competitors, considering the offensive weather today.

Though I will not complain—it has been too hot and dry. The crisp, damp air feels particularly nice.

I stop, now face-to-face with the griffin statue in the castle’s courtyard. It is much larger this close than I expected—I still wonder if that is the actual size of griffins. How else would they have made such statues if not from studying them first?

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