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The King Trials

The death of the High King’s only son initiates the King Trials; demanding the eldest pureblood from each Regnum. The Hera, Adalia Valwa, is the only female among eight other Herems. With no brother to take her stead, she is blood-bound to compete in the King Trials to safeguard her family’s lands and titles. In order to circumvent tragedy, she must not only participate, but she must triumph.  However, this is no easy feat, she is faced against ruthless rivals, dangerous mythological beings and creatures, forced to fight in bloody duels with an onslaught of death-defying challenges that forges a woman into a warrior. A chronicle of duty and bravery, a story brimming with riveting action, an enemies-to-lovers romance with war-provoking betrayals that reveal they are all pawns in a much larger game.

Mbali_Xabela · Fantasia
Classificações insuficientes
48 Chs

Chapter 35

The end is here.

At least here in the Cistern Citadel.

A new carousine and a separate carriage for Duce Merian await just outside of the Regulus's domain. We already said our formal farewells to both him and the Regine. But their daughters insist on accompanying us all out themselves, alongside their personal Terra squadron.

It feels good to be in my old clothes; they were returned to me clean. They feel a lot heavier than I remember. The Avangard soldiers are fully armed with light infantry. Their armour gleaming a vibrant red, fortified with slender plating. Before we left, Green Earl Moray's messenger sent word from his scout. Confirming that the Valwa's holdings are all untouched, as is what I expected. Outbreak or not, it cannot have spread as far as Armathis in such a short span.

My eyes soak in every beautiful feature of the celestial forest. The paradise green of the glades, the silk-soft leaves on the ever-reaching branches. Sunlight arrows through the sky-length lace of leaves. The atmosphere is strong with the glucose smell of amber, syrup sweet with sun-warmed fruits. Since the start of our walk from the threshold of the Citadel and still to this present moment. Cassia and Lila trudge beside me with their arms tangled around mine. All of our footsteps harmonise with the crinkly crunches of every boot that tramples on the leaf-carpeted pathways.

Opal at our rear, along with the surrounding purebloods.

"We are going to miss you, little Hera," Cassia says, squeezing my arm.

"Little?" Opal says with a dignified snort. "She's almost as tall as most of the Herems, muscular as well."

And here I thought her joining our send-off party was a sign of goodwill.

"Not in a masculine way, of course," Lila says quickly, sending her sister a reproachful look. "But in a very much desirable way that doesn't undercut your femininity at all."

I offer her a wry smile before I look forward again.

"Do not worry, Opal," I say up to the glimmers of sunlight. "I will be out of your life soon enough."

"Adalia," she says sternly.

I stop and her sisters unbind their arms from mine as I swivel around to face her. Delicate features distorted into a scornful look. Moving figures drift past my periphery.

"You should know to never return to Cistern—" Her sisters burst into shocked protests.

"Opal!"

"Neesse lumsa enke."

She flips up a silencing hand. "—you will not be welcomed, unless you wear the High King's crown on your head. Because every bit of me believes you can obtain it."

A smile expels all hostility from her expression. And her face mirrors mine, wearing a matching grin. We walk up to each other, enveloping one another in a heartfelt hug. Soon more limbs join, Lila and Cassia encroach our tangled frames, a web of arms. Entwined, emanating a chorus of giggles. Promptly, a heavy set of arms glomps down on us. I glance upwards to glimpse a grinning Vince.

"Couldn't resist."

I roll my eyes exaggeratedly and all three sisters laugh good-naturedly.

***

Hours later we are back on the main road, travelling to the subsequent location. Wherever that might be. Currently, we are pushing north of the mountain on the rural side, at the breach of Preme. The closest Capital from here that I can think of is Sorcia. I have only been there once, and even now, I honour my vow to never return. The last time I was there, it was the season of their gruesome blood sport hosted for macabre entertainment. A ghastly proclivity that overshadows the splendour of their society.

But we cannot possibly be going there.

Pummelled by a wave of nausea, the carousine staggers ahead with stomach-churning wobbles, my insides twisting. The rock-strewn ground is gravelly and unstable to say the least. Paths like these irritate me, but they never upset my stomach so.

Sleep has taken Solaris. Vince, just another of its victims. He lays comfortably with his head resting on my lap, one leg bent on the bench and the other hanging off. With no one to distract me, my eyes do a random round of the carousine. It's nearly identical to our previous one; a sumptuous interior with a humble exterior.

My gaze stumbles on Rimnick—he's already staring at me: unblinking, fixated, haunting. There's absolutely nothing in them. Not a show of arrogance nor a haughty look. No emotion. Nothing.

My heart clambers up and throbs in my throat.

This is going to be a long journey.

As time tumbles by. The golden hue of the sun bleeds into a vivid orange, haemorrhaging drips of red on the horizon. Both beside me are awake, everyone else occupied by their own thoughts. The only audible sound is the cacophony of clattering hooves. Suddenly Solaris perks up and straightens from his slouched position to inspect something beyond the window hole.

I edge closer to him, slanting my head to peer out at the view from over his shoulder. I concentrate on the moving scene that coasts by; blackened farmlands that appear as if devastated by a callous wildfire. What was once probably fields of green, fruitful bounty has withered into wilted stalks, scorched ground with stumps charred black, peppered throughout the seared expanse. Bulbous blobs of black hang from gnarly and bare boughs like bulging sores on the skin. The aftermath of the Black Plague. Far worse than I thought.

The singed fields go on and on, as distant as my vision will allow.

"The Black Death. It's..."

"An agricultural cataclysm," Vince finishes at my rear.

I glance at him from over my shoulder whilst he stares off into the distance at the opposite window hole. My eyes dart around the interior, watching the Herems twist and turn to capture a look at the scorched scenery.