“Enough,” he says, clearly uninterested in further banter. His words cut off the laughter like a blade, and the room falls silent again.
The heavy doors behind me creak open, and I tense, halfexpecting something—someone—to swoop in and drag me off. But instead, the sound of measured footsteps echoes through the hall, and I risk a glance over my shoulder.
Mathis!
Pure, unadulterated relief floods through me at the sight of his familiar face, a lifeline in this sea of strangers. I try to catch his eye, offering him a small smile, but he doesn’t even look my way, his expression distant, his focus entirely on the king and queen. He’s different. Not the relaxed, friendly guard I spent the last week with. Dressed in the uniform of a high-ranking officer, his posture straight and rigid, all formality and function.
King Halford eyes him with a measured sense of scrutiny. “Ah, Captain Corvane. I see I must extend my utmost congratulations for a successful mission.”
Mathis, or Captain Corvane, apparently, approaches the throne, bowing deeply. “Thank you, Your Majesties,” he replies, his voice steady, almost cold. “We were simply doing our jobs.”
I almost roll my eyes at that. What is it with these men and doing their jobs? It seems like everyone in this place is so dedicated to their duties that they forget to be human.
The king gestures towards me. “Well, then, please, at least accept my gratitude.”
Mathis stares straight ahead, his expression remaining unreadable. “Thank you, Your Majesty,” he says simply, his tone betraying nothing.
The king’s gaze returns to me. “Eirabella, you must be wondering why you’re here,” he says.
Wondering? That’s an understatement. I’m ten seconds away from grabbing him by the shoulders and shaking the information right out of him. But I’d probably be dead five seconds after that, skewered by Mathis’s, sorry,Captain Corvane’s,sword no less, so I’ve held back.
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
“For the past year, Eirabella,” the king begins, “we have been scouring the kingdom for our next Aquilith, the Keeper of Water. Captain Corvane here believes that you are that person.”
The words hang in the air, heavy and incomprehensible. Me? Keeper of Water? Er, no. Never. My mind scrambles to understand his words, but it comes up with nothing. “No,” I stammer. “That can’t be.”
King Halford leans back on his throne, his gaze unwavering. “As you know, the Keepers are the strongest wielders of the elemental essences—Fire, Water, Earth, Air, Light, and Sentience. They are the protectors of the kingdom. And you, it seems, have a water Strength that is incomparable.”
The words hit me like a physical blow, and the room tilts slightly as I try to process what he’s saying. My Strength is incomparable? Didn’t… Mathis say that to me? But I didn’t even know I had magic until just days ago. “But I… my magic… I can’t…” I stammer, my voice cracking with disbelief.
Mathis steps forward, his voice cutting through the fog of confusion. “Your Majesty, Eirabella’s magic is still, er, developing, but it’s incredibly strong. I’ve seen it with my own eyes, and so have the others who would agree.”
Others? Who else has been watching me? The thought sends a shiver down my spine, but before I can voice it, the king’s expression tightens, irritation plastering across his face.
Eyes ice cold, he says, “Yes, yes. Others. And where is our Celestaris exactly? Late as usual, it seems.” He slams his hand down on the arm of his throne with a dramatic huff.
Celestaris. The Celestaris, the Master Keeper, the strongest of the Keepers. Arguably one of the strongest, if not the strongest, magic wielders in the entire kingdom. They’ve seen my powers as well? What is this day? I turn to Mathis, desperatefor an explanation, but he just glances at me, his eyes giving nothing away before he turns back to the king. He opens his mouth, but before the words leave his mouth, the heavy doors behind us fly open with a force that makes them shudder on their hinges. My heart leaps into my throat as the room’s atmosphere shifts.
I don’t dare turn around. The presence entering the room behind me is palpable, pressing against my back like a warm body. The footsteps are measured but carry a commanding, rhythmic gait that sends a ripple of straightened backs, fluttering eyelashes, and hushed breaths throughout the entire court. Whoever this is, their mere presence demands reverence, respect, and outright fear, casting a shadow over everyone in the room.
Out of the corner of my eye, I catch a glimpse of the figure as he approaches the thrones. He’s tall, his posture straight and commanding. His attire is opulent, far more elaborate than anything I’ve seen before—rich fabrics in deep, regal colours, with intricate patterns woven in gold thread. His hair is slicked back, adding to the polished, almost regal look. But it’s his eyes—piercing, dark, unfathomable—that send a jolt of recognition through me.
There’s a pause, a moment of silence so thick it feels like it might suffocate us all at any second. And then, a voice, a voice I know all too well, cuts through the air.
“No need for the dramatics, Father. I am here now,” the voice says, dripping with disdain and defiance.
I turn, my breath catching as our eyes finally meet.
NINE
Rylan
I fuckinghateit here.
Returning to the castle always feels like a bitter injection straight to the heart. The high marble walls are always the same, cold, imposing, filled with memories I’ve spent my life trying to forget. Yet there’s still always that strange pull, an inevitable draw that brings me back every time. Call it duty, obligation, or the endless cycle of proving myself to a man who will never see me as anything more than a tool in his bloody games.
So I keep coming back, but that doesn’t mean I don’t hate every fucking second that I’m here.
