Page 59 of The Throne Seeker
“That’s true, but how was I… supposed to know you were… telling the truth?” he managed through graveled coughs.
“Try to hold still.” She focused on his chest first, dabbing it clean. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught him staring. “What?”
“You’re touching my bare skin,” he said with a crafty grin.
She stopped mid-movement. “Did you plan this?”
He attempted to laugh, but another cough consumed the sound. “How could I plan to fall through those stairs? No, this is just a lucky turn of events for me. It’s the least you could do since you and your lover teamed up against me. I should feel flattered that you had to go to such great lengths to beat me; it feels quite unfair, really. Though I suppose Dawnton being allowed to bribe your men wasn’t quite fair either.”
She peered up from the wound. He was staring at the tent ceiling, uncharacteristically sober. “It was you who sabotaged his boat, wasn’t it?” she said quietly.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” But the gratification in his eyes said otherwise. He cleared his throat, coughing again. “So, are you going to help me?” He looked at hiswound, then at her, reinstating his famous grin. “You did say you would if I were ever bleeding out.”
He was pushing his luck, but an unsolicited warmth spread in her chest as she dipped a separate rag in alcohol. He winced as she brought it to the edge of his gash.
“Not the kind of touch you were hoping for, is it? Wait ’til I get the thread and needle.”
An hour later, the court gathered beneath three large tents sandwiched together for the placement announcements. The sun had dropped, diving for the tree line, blocking the view of the sea just beyond. Thankfully, the warm air had turned crisp as the wind picked up, sending a fresh breeze over the camp.
A small wooden platform was positioned at the center of the tent, where the council, the king, and the contestants stood. Tristan’s and Rose’s men remained just behind them on the wooden platform, still wearing their respective uniforms. After all, this victory was as much theirs as it was hers and Tristan’s.
Rose’s mother, the queen, and Harriet sat in the front row. Harriet’s smile beamed brighter than it had in days, and even the queen seemed cheery. Meanwhile, the Vertmerian queen and princess remained present, their usual guards, dressed in green uniforms, surrounding them. She was still perplexed as to why they were entertaining the succession at all; perhaps the peace treaty negotiations were faltering, as Lord Barron had suggested. She didn’t have long to dwell on the thought as the king began to speak.
“The first succession challenge is concluded!” King Henrik proclaimed from the elevated wooden platform. “This is a challenge that will be remembered for generations. We takepride in the valor displayed by each contestant today. In fourth place, we have Emmett with thirty-eight points!”
The audience broke out in applause.
“In third place, with forty-six points, is Dawnton! In second place, with fifty-eight points, is Grant! And in first place, with sixty-two points each, are Tristan and Rose!”
Tristan grasped her hand and raised it high in victory. After which, they encouraged their men to bow as a fresh wave of applause erupted. Roman squeezed his way through to stand next to Tristan, clapping him on the shoulder, exchanging broad smiles.
The applause echoed in the fields until the king resumed speaking. “In closing, I want to leave off with a treat. I’ve witnessed a creature like this only once in my life as a young boy.” He signaled for the servants to bring forth the surprise.
She almost didn’t believe what she saw.
Two men carried a phoenix to the wooden podium. Gasps of awe spread at the sight of the magical creature. Its yellow, orange, and red feathers shone so vibrant they seemed to emit their own light, shimmering brightly in the warm rays of the setting sun.
“I can still recall the song it sang, and how it inspired me to face my own succession challenges. Tonight, we all have the rare honor of listening to it sing.” The king stepped back, and everyone applauded as the servants held it high.
Everyone’s attention remained fixed on the phoenix when a bad feeling twisted in her gut, creeping into Rose’s senses, like a premonition. She scoured the crowd, seeing nothing out of the ordinary. She brushed the feeling aside.
A hush fell over the tents as the phoenix unfurled its majestic wings, displaying its proud feathers. It opened its beak and began singing a melody so pure and clear she swore the tune captivated every creature close enough to hear.
Another wave of foreboding coursed through her, more urgent this time. She scanned the audience again. Still nothing. Maybe it was just the remaining adrenaline from the first challenge that kept her on edge.
She almost dismissed the feeling again until yet another wave consumed her, more powerful this time, like a pulse of energy that she could follow, guiding her gaze along the tree line.
She froze at what she saw.
At the heart of the aura, a hooded figure crouched on a branch concealed by the foliage. He was so well camouflaged, she would have missed him entirely if she hadn’t sensed the energy. Although he was too distant to make out his face, icy-blue eyes flashed from beneath his dark hood. She could have sworn he resembled—no, it couldn’t be.
Xavier?
The unknown figure swiftly readied a bow and arrow, directing his aim at Tristan as the phoenix’s song faded into its final notes.
She spun to warn Tristan, but Roman stood between them, blocking her way. She wouldn’t have time to reach him.
“Roman, the trees!”
