Page 20 of Reign of Betrayal

“There can be only one champion, he continues. “If you do happen to survive these trials, but are not my chosen one, then you will be sent back to the Hollows. During your stay here, you will abide by my rules and will not take out an opponent unless I tell you that you can. There will be times during the trial that I do not care if you kill each other off. Remember, you are disposable. If you all die like the last group from the prison, then I will just grab a new set of contestants. So, mark my words. If you are a nuisance for me, I will end you. Is that understood?”

The prisoners respond in unison. “Yes, Your Highness.”

“Good. Tomorrow you will meet with a seer, a blood magic wielder. She will tell us what type of magic you possess—if you even possess any at all.”

Suddenly, a royal guard walks into the throne room. He bows. “Your Majesty the queen is requesting your presence. She said it’s urgent.”

My father scowls, irritation flashing across his face. He doesn’t like to be interrupted, yet in the many years he has been with my stepmother, I have never seen him truly angry with her. “Very well. Lukene take over,” he says, standing up.

Without another word, my father, their king, leaves the throne room.

I sigh, just wanting to get this over with. “Prisoners, you will be shown your rooms tonight. There you can shower and sleep in an actual bed. Your accommodations here are far better than you have had at the Hollows, and probably far better than any of you deserve.” I leave my place alongside the throne and walk down the dais to stand in front of the prisoners. Fatigue leeches to every fiber in my body—exhaustion clinging to my every word.

“You will have guards stationed outside of your rooms. Please take this time to bathe—you all desperately need it. Clothes await you, but if they do not fit, let a servant know in the morning, and we will get you clothing more fitting. Rest up tonight. In the morning, you will be taken to the seer, as my father has mentioned. We need to know for sure what power you possess, if any at all, so we know how to train you. Now, any questions?” I look over the line of prisoners. My eyes stop on the prisoner with a head full of lavender hair, and a hardened grimace plastered on her face.

I walk over to her, and stand right in front of her. “Something on your mind, prisoner?” I ask, taking in the features of her face.

“What is the champion required to do once trials are won?” she asks, her eyes now innocent—the fight has left them as tiredness sweeps in, leaving evidence in the form of dark circles under her eyes.

“Ahh. Well one will have to win the trials to find out.”

And there it is—the spark is back in her eyes—the hatred, the wildness. These next few weeks are going to be interesting to say the least—fun even. I curl my lips up at her, knowing she doesn’t like my answer.

“Alright, follow the guards. They will show you to your rooms.”

I watch the prisoners make their way out of the throne room, and head to their bed chambers.

I watch her.

She pauses at the threshold, glancing back, as if she can sense me watching her. Her lavender eyes lock onto mine, narrowing in defiance.

I can’t help the laugh that slips from my lips.

Then, she turns back, exiting with the other prisoners.

She is going to be a wild one. I know it in my bones. I look forward to it.

Before exiting the throne room, I take a good look around and scoff. The size of it is probably bigger than my entire house back in the Drifts. The large throne, with its elaborate gold patterns, sits high on the dais, looming above everything as if whoever claims that seat is superior to all others.

The massive throne may be just a chair, but it casts a large shadow of secrets under the flickering candles, and the torches that seem to beg the question—what evil secrets are they hiding? The room flaunts red carpets and gold accents everywhere—a display of the king’s wealth. The royals may have an abundance of wealth, but no amount of money can make up for the morals they lack.

The weight of the prince and king’s exchange hangs heavily in the air as I leave the room, not to mention the horrible image of the decapitated prisoner that is haunting my mind.

An almost palpable sensation prickles against the nape of my neck, feeling the prince’s lingering gaze on my back. The prince has a smug arrogance about him. He is undoubtedly reveling in the discomfort he stirs within me. As I reach the threshold, an instinctual urge compels me to glance back, catching him in the act.

Sure enough, he’s watching. His piercing green gaze probes mine with an intensity that sends a feverish shiver along my spine. The corners of his lips curl into a mocking smirk. A silent challenge reflects in those mysterious, enigmatic eyes of his.

Refusing to be intimidated by his audacity, I shoot him a glare laden with disdain—a silent warning. No—a promise, a vow of impending troubles to come. Yet to my surprise, instead of recoiling under my withering stare, he chuckles. The sound is as infuriating as it is beguiling.

With a huff, I turn back around, ignoring him as I walk through the corridors of the castle, following the royal guards to my room. Every step I take echoes in the vast corridors, my heart pounding against my ribcage as a mixture of defiance and trepidation courses through my veins. The royals are responsible for my placement in the Hollows. I know they are dangerously evil, so I need to watch them closely.

After many corridors and flights of stairs, we are split into two long hallways. Elm and Larah are in one hallway, and I am in the other. I don’t think this is done purposely; it’s just the way they split us. However, I will never underestimate the royals.

The castle is a breathtaking display of opulence and a solid fortress. It is so massive I can’t even fathom how big it truly is as I walk through it. It is a true testament to the power and wealth the royals contain.

The corridor’s walls are littered with intricate tapestries, detailed canvases, and sparkling chandeliers. They are lined with white and gold marbled floors with contrasting luxurious red carpets that cascade down the center walkway.

There are candelabras every couple of paces with white pillar candles burning in them. The candle flames cast a flickering golden glow over everything the light touches; however, I still notice the shadows—the secrets that linger and lurk in every darkened corner. I pass royal guards stationed outside of the many doors in the hallway—silent but always watching.

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