Page 41 of A Sea of Secrets
My hands trembled a little as I reached for it, but I didn’t dare touch the thing, even if it was an illusion. It seemed so incrediblyme, and I knew, if I had lifted it to my brow, it would be the perfect weight and fit. I could change the country with this hunk of metal. I could pull the roots of slavery from its core, free the people and set things right again. I could bring about a new age—one that benefitted all, not just the rich and fortunate. This symbol was a powerhouse of hope. This monarchy was the reason I’d nearly died not once but several times in this nightmare trip of a trial.
And yet… I stepped back.
What exactly was this trial testing right now? Somehow, the Masters knew what was most dear to me, but what was the point of showcasing it like this?
I chewed my lip as I glanced at the four platforms. Each was a symbol of something different: My family and friends—lovers, even—represented love and loyalty, that was obvious. My parents, a need for justice and on a deeper level, revenge. And the crown…
A monarchy, a responsibility, a future… a purpose?
I’d entered the trials in part because my father had forced me, but I’d also entered in the hope that winning would give me the means to protect my siblings and ensure they had a better future.
But what aboutmyfuture? I had spent so much time doing the will of others and then trying to make up for those terrible deeds by striving to act in a way that served others, but what about my own choices? All the things on those platforms drove me in different ways, but all things were tied to others.
Maybe I needed to think about myself, for a change. What did Fallon want?
I glanced between the four platforms, feeling torn as if this showcase was somehow meant to make me choose and I could only have one.
Except… why choose? I didn’t want one. I wanted it all. I wanted to be happy, to have a family, to be in love, to ensure my parents reaped what they sewed. And at the heart of it? I wanted to be queen because being queen meant I could have all those things and more. Was that selfish? Maybe. Maybe that decision meant I could have my cake and eat it too, but it also meant I could still do something for myself while serving others.
And that right there was a gift. One I wouldn’t squander if I became the new ruler.
Maybe no one was listening, or maybe I was entirely wrong about the purpose of this test altogether, but I didn’t care. I needed to hear myself say it just once, just so the world could hear me.
“You want me to choose one of these four platforms?”
I let that question echo in the chamber before I smiled and lifted my chin.
“I can’t choose between them, because they all represent one thing and one thing only. There is no choice between family, justice, love, or the crown. These are all tied to the most important thing in this room. The only one who can make these illusions an eventuality.”
I smiled again, knowing deep in my bones what I wanted from this day and all to come.
“For once in my damn life, I choose myself.”
Rainfellagainstthewindow, hitting the glass with a hard smack and blurring the world outside. Only the neon lights shone brightly through the rain and the darkness of night. The deluge gave the city a shiny appearance, as though for a brief moment, Damascon Hollow wasn’t the dirty, dangerous place everyone knew.
I watched as the little black-haired boy stepped closer, pressing his forehead against the cold window, his breath fogging up the glass like he was smoking a cigar. He stared down at the street below and I didn’t have to be standing beside him to know what he was looking at.
The memory was inked into my brain like the tattoos on my skin.
The Masters and Overseer were tricky fuckers, gaining access to my memories and using them in the trial. They musthave access to obscene levels of power to do such a thing. A power the ruler of Terrulia would have at their fingertips once they won this fucking thing.
I would be unstoppable when I got my crown.
The boy watched the desperate souls as they stumbled through the street below. Years ago, I’d thought they’d been ordinary people, following the bright neon lights to safety from the rain. Now, though, I knew a whole fucking lot more about the goings-on in Damascon Hollow.
Drunks staggering from bar to bar, hookers looking for their next paycheck, druggies making back-alley deals, criminals fighting in the streets, and losers who had little hope left. Most had the delusional belief that DH would somehow save them.
Case in point; the scene I knew was currently playing out below. My past self watched whilst the image replayed in my head like my very own personal movie. A man was dragged onto the street by a few big burly guys, their fists and feet laying into him as his cries pierced through the downpour. Later, I would learn they had Drake tattoos hidden beneath their shirts.
Despite myself, I shuddered.
I’d lived and breathed DH and the Drakes for most of my life and yet, I hated this place. It was a cruel city filled with desperate people who’d do anything to catch a break. Even if it meant selling their mother’s soul for a single credit. Those closest to you could only be trusted as long as you had something worth giving them. Everyone had a vendetta, and no one gave a shit whether you were a kid or not.
The boy whispered to himself, his words barely audible beneath the falling rain. “Only a little longer,” he whimpered, raising a hand to the window and tapping his pale fingers on the glass. “They’ll be back.”
My chest tightened and I winced at the boy’s naivety. No one was coming back.
Not then, not fucking ever.
