Page 93 of The Throne Seeker
Good hell, did this man even have a temperature between hot and cold?
She glared at his outstretched hand. “That won’t be necessary. I’ll ride with Zareb.” Her eyes lifted to confront his, becoming cold. “I wouldn’t want you going out of your way for someone who doesn’t deserve it.”
She didn’t even care how his face flinched as she said it. Good. She hoped it hurt.
She pressed past Roman, shoving her shoulder hard into his, not caring if everyone saw the cold exchange.
She hoped the message she’d just sent was loud and clear.
CHAPTER 39
Rose bandaged her own wrists, cleaning them in hot water and covering them with Alofa leaves to help with the pain and swelling—though they still throbbed with a dull ache.
But her discomfort was nothing compared to Tristan’s.
The healers were still sewing him up when she arrived. Tristan didn’t utter a single complaint as the healer worked the needle and thread, but he writhed on the bed, his hand clenched around hers. The pressure made her wrist throb, but she refused to let go. A persistent cough played on him, making her fret, but it was a good sign his body was removing the fluids.
Eventually, the challenge results were announced. Each successor had faced their own task of retrieving a sun medallion. Tristan had obtained the medallion from around Rose’s neck, just as she claimed the one from the sea beast. Grant had found his amongst the shipwrecks near Crimson Cove, Dawnton had retrieved his from beneath the sea caves, and Emmett had found his on a small, rocky island a few leagues offshore.
Tristan emerged victorious in the challenge, scoring forty-four points. Rose followed with twenty-one, Grant with fourteen, Emmett with thirteen, and Dawnton finished with just eightpoints—barely surviving the perilous conditions of the caves during high tide.
Everyone had assumed that Tristan had rounded up the sea beast and forced it into submission. Tristan tried to clarify the misunderstanding, but a single glance from Rose silenced him. She preferred they believe the story rather than raise suspicions or questions about her ability to communicate with the beast, or the fact that she’d been able to breathe underwater. How could she explain her survival underwater for so long, aside from Tristan’s bravery? She didn’t truly understand it herself. And if she were accused of cheating or manipulating the challenge, she risked disqualification from the succession.
Not only did she believe it was the council who had left her stranded on the rock, but the king did as well, mercilessly interrogating each of them. But they all provided strong alibis. Each one was compelled to swear on the sacred holy relic that only the medallion was meant to hang from the iron truss for Tristan’s challenge—even Lord Martin was present with the king himself at the time.
Either way, no evidence existed of their involvement, leaving them all free and clear from any consequence. Rose remained unconvinced—who was to say they didn’t hire a mercenary to do their dirty work? Cowards.
Though she was quick to blame, she had to admit wrangling a sea beast seemed beyond the council’s abilities, which begged the question of how the sea beast got there in the first place. Who among them could wield such power? To capture a beast of that magnitude? To chain it to the ocean floor? All this brought up an even more terrifying question.
If not them, then who?
What was more distressing was that no one had found the seer either. Then again, it’d been no one’s top priority after Rose had been kidnapped, distracting them all from the pursuit.
Her mother and Zareb remained glued to her side, putting on a strong front. But she swore she could tap either one and they’d shatter to pieces on the floor.
Rose also wasn’t ignorant of the fact that Roman kept glancing at her, trying to make eye contact, but she refused to meet his gaze.
The bright light that used to pour through Tristan’s window diminished into a hazy glow. The sunset that evening must have been stunning as its soft pink and orange shades flooded the bedroom.
A small knock came at the door.
Rose didn’t pay any attention to it until one of the healers came to the king, bowing. “It’s the queen and princess of Vertmere,” the healer relayed. “They wish to see Tristan.”
As perplexing as their presence was for her, no one, not even Tristan, seemed as confused as she. The realization made her shift in her stance, suddenly feeling out of the loop.
The king let out a loud sigh. “Let them in.”
Rose leaned toward her mother, whispering, “What are they still doing here?”
“I’m not sure,” her mother whispered back, eyeing the foreign royal pair who’d just entered. “But Vertmerians have strong convictions in divinity and fate, and after today… I’m quite certain the foreigners believe Tristan has both.”
Four emerald-clad guards congregated behind the Vertmerian queen, who pursed her lips in distaste as if she still detested being there. At that point, Rose thought it may just be her permanent expression. Her daughter trailed behind her, her light, brown hair neatly pinned up with a crown of leaves as she gazed at Tristan with inquisitive eyes.
“I hope we’re not interrupting,” the foreign queen said, her voice as sharp as a blade.
“Of course not,” Queen Lenna said with a tight smile that didn’t reach her eyes. She stood from Tristan’s bedside. “Won’t you come sit, my dear? You can have my seat.”
The young princess looked to her mother, seeking her permission. Queen Isleen nodded, encouraging her. The princess gracefully settled next to him.
