Stress twisted my guts. I felt as if a weight had been thrown upon my shoulders and I could only buckle under its weight, never faltering, never letting go. I had gotten zero messages from the soldiers we snuck in in the past month, not even a signal that they were still in the palace or even alive. Romantic interest in me had fallen below even what Aria's most pessimistic predictions had decided. She was becoming more and more outlandish with her strategies, even going so far as to suggest faking a vision from the Spirits that we should get married. I am still not sure if she was entirely joking. Aria was getting less and less sleep as nightmares began to rob her of any peace, even in the safety of her room. What she was so afraid of, she refused to tell me but I knew they were getting worse and worse.
"Hey, Amara. Are you okay? You seem very... distant recently." Andrew said, placing a friendly hand on my shoulder. I felt my body drift from a land of dreams, like swimming through golden honey, until I found myself back on the training grounds. Dying flicker in hand and a target just a few metres ahead, it took me a few seconds to realise what I was doing.
"Oh, yeah, yeah. I am fine. Just tired." I lied.
"Hmm... okay. You are doing that exercise I told you about, the one about control, remember?" He pointed at the target, then the next and then the long row of targets that followed, all ripe for the beating.
The aim of the game was to destroy as many targets as you could without running out of energy. the average score for a Warlock my age was about thirty targets, though, within the Nobility, its more like fifty. I moved down the rows, flames and bursts of lightning shattering each target as I moved. Every moment of my concentration was focused on keeping my energy output to a minimum but I could help but allowed the occasional thought to run through my mind.. Like how the chances of me getting a husband by the end of the year were slim to none. Or how the soldiers could betray us at any moment for the riches of the Nobles. Or how hollow I felt every second of everyday.
Heat and light soared past me. Explosions desecrated every target in my way. The slow drip of furious poison that had been growing within me finally shimmered to my cracked surface. Like a parasite that slowly kills its host, dripping venom until puddles turn to ponds that turns to oceans. I could hear its whisper, running down my spine.
I pushed its lies aside and tried once again to concentrate. My breathing deepened as I calmed myself. My speed increased with the destruction of the targets. I imagined each one to the face of someone who had hurt me. The King, who will kill me the second he can; My father, who left me to deal with this hostile environment on my own; The faceless guards who kidnapped my brother and killed my mother.
Then a familiar face arose on a target. Instead of rage, the poison turned into sorrow, betrayal and a gnawing pain my chest. Her blonde hair was pristine as always and her sapphire eyes warmed me for a moment before I remember why her face was up there. The princess who had trapped me and used me for her own ends. For her crown.
She doesn't care for you, the parasite whispered, no one does. Who could love someone like you?
The target erupted into flames as my energy disappeared. Andrew stared at me in confusion and fear. I didn't even notice the tears bloodying my vision. Taking a deep breath and drying my eyes, I smiled and turned to him.
"How did I do?" I buried the poison deep within me, so far even he could not detect it. I was acting childish, of course. What is love when you are dead? There were clearly more important things.
"A new personal record." he chuckled, " Sixty targets exactly. Its brilliant."
"Wow! That's not even bad."
His smile disappeared as his eyes landed on something behind me. I heard him swallow and he waved, a strained smile on his face. Slowly turning around, my eyes fell on three figures behind me. My heart dropped as I recognised the silhouette of the awful king. Laughter shook his chest as he spoke to the man beside him. They had their arms over each others shoulders, talking and laughing like old friends would. Just in front of them, a young man with striking black hair and piercing emerald eyes. I'd placed him in his early to mid twenties, far younger than the pair behind him. A warm grin decorated his face as he waved back to Lord Andrew.
Curious, I kept my eyes plastered to the younger man. He bore a royal insignia but looked nothing like King Tristan. His stride was powerful and entitled, every step seeming like another patch of land he has conquered. Yet, there was something about him, the way he smiled, the way he waved, the way his eyes ripped through the air that made him seem... ethereal in a way.
"Lord Brawn! How's it been?" He exclaimed, slapping him on the back.
"Ah, Prince Tristan! It's been good."
Prince? he looks nothing like his father or sister. Perhaps he takes after the late Queen or something. He turned to look at me. Our eyes met and a wave of understanding came over us. HIs eyes were familiar in the deepest of ways, as if the very blood that ran through our veins was the same.
"How's training going, milady?" He walked towards me, never once breaking our piercing eye contact. Slowly, He raised my knuckles to his lips and planted a short, chaste kiss that made my nerves stand on end. In a good way or a bad way I didn't know.
"Very well, thank you." He seemed relatively polite and charming. No where near the awful descriptions Aria had placed in my head. Perhaps she was just manipulating me into thinking he was awful so I would be more willing to murder him. So far at least, his smiles were genuine; his tone and expressions were warm but inviting and he hadn't tried to manipulate me yet. That's one point against the princess.
"I heard of your... troubled ancestry. I hope that you have not received any discrimination as of yet. I understand, you see, my mother died when I was quite young. An assassination. I pity you for your loss." His words were kind, if a bit robotic.
"Thank you, your Majesty."
"Are you two courting or something?" He asked with a suggestive smirk.
"Oh we are not, like, romantically involved. We are just friends." I said in defence. There had always been this mutual understanding between me and Andrew, like a contract that said, we are just friends. I don't know when we agreed, but the agreement was certainly there.
"Aw, and here I thought I was going to get some grandchildren." An unmissable voice joked behind me. I spun around to see my father grinning, the Kings arm wrapped around his shoulders. His's smile evaporated into a sneer and his arm came off my fathers shoulders. How could my father be friends with such a sick twisted monster?
"I thought you were dealing with some problems on the land. How long have you been back?" I stuttered, trying not to let my anger and confusion spill into my voice.
"Oh, I arrived a few hours ago. I have made a... business trip here around two months ago, but I didn't have time to pop in and say hello." He said, completely waving off his wife and seven year old child in the process.
"How long are you staying for?"
"I'm only here for the tournament that's coming up, then I'll have to rush back home."
Tournament. Doesn't the Tournament happen in the summer? I turned to face Andrew, pouring my silent question into my eyes. However, he seemed just as confused I was.
"Ah yes, we pushed it forwards to accommodate for the Dowish Royalty to attend. We are trying to build a level of trust between them, since war with Myraria is looking closer and closer. Not that a petty thief would know anything about trust." The King's voice took me by surprise, as I had almost forgotten his presence. Now that I had noticed him, his shadow was suffocating.
"Are you going to be competing? I know it's customary for all those of age who are unmarried, but since you have a bit of a disadvantage, I think we can make an exception. Only if you want, of course." Prince Tristan said with oceans of respect pouring from his voice. I couldn't help but enjoy that, for once, I was being taken seriously.
"Well, I-" But before I could answer, my father butt in.
"Oh, no. My daughter is not a fighter. She is more passive and nurturing, like her mother. Myria was the sweetest soul I had ever met."
Um, what? I couldn't help but think my father had a very distorted view of my mother. She was an assassin after all. Also, how arrogant do you have to be to make assumptions about a daughter you've spent a combined total of two hours with over seventeen years?
"Actually, I am going to compete. Why not, after all? It will be fun." I said, smirking at my father in triumph.
"Well, that will certainly be... amusing. Though, if you are so sure that you can match the skills of long, powerful bloodlines and life long training, you can certainly join in." King Tristan said with an amused smile.
"Yes, it will be a good opportunity to display my power and hopefully find some new suitors. I am aiming to be engaged by my eighteenth birthday." My eyes stayed locked with the Kings, the war between us raging on. His brows furrowed in acknowledgement and annoyance. He lent down until his mouth was inches from my ear. My muscles tightened with fear.
"Game on, my Lady." The whisper was so quiet it almost didn't count as a word but a thought instead. A thought so loud it had entered the real world. This time, I didn't flinch or panic. Not backing down, I held my eyes at the same level as his.
"Indeed, your Majesty."