Page 76 of The Throne Seeker
“Tristan, we’re so close. A few more days—just a few more days, and this will all be over.”
“Do you have feelings for him?”
Her expression hardened. “No, and I’m getting tired of reassuring you I don’t.”
“Then maybe you shouldn’t give me reasons to believe otherwise.”
She scoffed, shaking her head. “I’m not doing this.” She whirled to leave, but his hand shot out and grabbed her arm.
“Imagine if you’d just walked in on me that close to another woman.” His voice broke. “How would you react?”
She clenched her jaw. She wouldn’t handle it well. That she knew.
“I know how it would feel. It would hurt. But I’d also trust you when you said you love me.”
She tried to leave again, but his grip was firm. Finally, she confronted his gaze on the imaginary battlefield.
“I’m sorry,” he said, defeated. He looked down at his hand on her arm, his eyes softening. “I’m sorry,” he repeated, quickly letting go of her arm as he paced.
If it had been any other day, she would have stormed out. Yelled at him. But he’d be in no state to go into the second trial. And Zareb was still waiting for her. So, instead, she resigned.
“I’m not going to hold this against you because I know what tomorrow means,” she said, her words coming out as sharp as carefully poised icicles. “I’m going to go to bed. I’ll see you at the challenge.”
Tristan parted his lips to speak, but she silenced him with, “Good night.”
She left him alone on the balcony without a backward glance.
Tomorrow’s challenge might be the most dangerous task she’d faced yet.
And she would be her own undoing.
CHAPTER 34
It felt like no time at all before Thea came to wake Rose the next morning. Zareb had spent the late hours of the night coaching her on what to expect, leaving her eyelids heavy. Thea had laid out a pink dress today—the very same her mother had been begging her to wear. And although Rose had been reluctant to wear it, the dress did have its perks—the dusted-pink color beautifully suited her olive skin, fitting perfectly without being too tight. The beading started at the chest, cascading down to her waist and flowing elegantly with the fabric to the floor. Her mother would claim all the credit, she was sure.
The energy in the grand hall was nothing like it’d been for the previous challenge, the court’s numbers dwindling by half. Due to recent events, she could only assume many had chosen to return home for their own safety. For whatever reason, the Vertmerian queen and princess remained on enemy territory—though the number of forest-green uniforms had doubled. On the bright side, it left more than enough seats to house everyone.
Rose was surprised to see Roman already out of bed with Beth sitting beside him—their hands interlocked, suggesting that they worked through their fight. Tristan sat on the other side of Roman, catching her eye as soon as she entered.
His gaze devoured her from head to toe, clearly admiring the dress as much as her mother. He looked just as dashing, the color of his tunic matching his blue eyes, bringing out the highlights in his soft blond curls. The warmth of the room had flushed his strong cheekbones with an undertone of pink. Although still upset, she still mustered a faint smile. He returned it, but it lacked its usual warmth.
She had barely sat down when her mother practically bounced in her seat, looking positively ecstatic. “You wore the dress!” her mother exclaimed in victory.
Rose brushed her hair back, exaggerating her movements for dramatic effect, pretending that the dress was all she needed.
The room quieted when the king arrived a few short minutes later with his queen, holding hands as they claimed their seats. Queen Lenna’s pale complexion looked a little more drained than usual. Behind them, the high council entered in a steady stream, the silence emphasizing every footstep, echoing off the vaulted ceiling.
King Henrik gestured for everyone to sit. “Today may arguably be the most paramount succession challenge we’ve conducted. As we all understand, it takes a great deal more than brute strength to be a strong leader. So today, each of the contestants will undergo an intense psychiatric examination meant to appraise their capabilities of handling not only the battles of Cathan, but the battle which rages within themselves.”
All of the contestants paled, except Grant, of course, who only smirked.
“Before we begin, I find it fitting we remember Cathan’s oath.” The king raised his chalice.
Everyone stood.
King Henrik led the chant Rose had heard a thousand times over—a chant that every child in Vallor knew by heart.
“In strength!” the king projected.
