Shadows of the Crown

9. Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine

Ariella

T he gilded doors make no sound as the stationed guards heave them open. Whispers instantly float through the large room as every single person in attendance turns their attention to me. I’m used to the scrutinization, so it is less than a thought to push their drama-filled nonsense out of my mind.

I saunter to my original position, taking my time to send the king a message. However he perceives that message is not a worry of mine.

When I stand before the raised thrones, inwardly groaning that there’s only one other contestant here, my fingers twitch as they nearly reach for the artifact in my bra. I relax them again when I notice how the prince’s questioning eyes look over my body, smirking delightedly when he sees no glowing object on my person. He sinks further into his chair, seeming oddly proud of himself.

I will leave the ring where it is for now. Bastard deserves a little humiliation in his privileged life.

Antsy fingers hover over my blade after an hour passes and nearly every other assassin has made it back to the throne room with an artifact in hand. Where the fuck is Isaiah? Even Raine made it back, and he had to carry a large pillow.

There are pieces of dangling fabric across the front, so maybe the pillow was not the worst idea.

I know I shouldn’t worry. Isaiah can handle himself…I fight the prickling that taps against my spine at the thought of our incident. An incident that left him permanently marred and me with the only thing I will ever feel guilty about. My lungs fill deeply with air, willing my brain to push the thought away.

It isn’t long before some of the other contestants begin complaining about standing here, which garners an eye roll from me. There’s a group of the male contestants standing directly behind me while they not so quietly make comment after comment about my ass and what they’d like to do to it. I’m certain every person on this side of the room can hear them clearly, which does not affect me, though it’s interesting to see the way the prince glares at them when they speak.

I’ve counted twelve sets of steps since I arrived, which leaves Isaiah and one other contestant. Sivara stands next to me again, eyeing the prince as if she’s about to eat him for dinner. The one who keeps trying to befriend me—Ally—is next to her.

“No artifact, wraith? How sad for you,” Sivara mocks, earning a few chuckles from the group. I cross my feet and spin in her direction, keeping my hands clasped behind me. Not a soul misses the insult of me willingly presenting my most vulnerable flesh without protection. Several snickers and coughs stir the tense atmosphere in the room. Her jaw clenches as she crosses her arms like a fucking child. “Well, you’ll be kicked out of here in a moment, so I won’t let that get to me.”

I close the small distance between us, deliberately pressing against her arms. She drops them instantly, though raises her chin, refusing to step back from my advance. I reach a hand out and graze it over her breast where the ring rests next to mine. “Are you sure about that?” The entire room stills, not a single breath can be heard. I see the king sit forward in the gilded chair, resting his elbows on his knees. “Because if you’re wrong, you just made your time here much more difficult.”

She bristles, eyes snapping to the prince quickly before blinking a few times and meeting mine again. Her voice is impressively stronger than I thought she could manage. “I’m not wrong. I can see no artifact.”

The bored mask slips from my face, replaced by an insidious smile. Hundreds of people watch our interaction, but my attention focuses solely on her unease. Her sweaty, metallic fragrance overpowers my own, and it is moments like these that I wish there was a strand of essence that allowed me to taste the fear of others. The amount of pleasure such a strand would bring me rivals every sorry fuck I’ve had the displeasure of experiencing .

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.” Her pupils dilate as she swallows loudly, though we’re unfortunately interrupted before I can push this any further.

Jeth saunters through the room as if it’s his throne he approaches. My stomach flutters when Isaiah enters a minute later, candelabra in hand.

Thank the Angel.

I stow away my relief, hesitant to disclose my relationship with Is in the instance someone wished to use him against me. My eyes find Sivara once more, a challenge in my gaze. She holds her position for all of five seconds before dropping her leer and stepping back.

Good. Perhaps now she will cease her hate-motivated advances. I nearly laugh, pushing my tongue to the roof of my mouth to keep it in. Of course she won’t; she is too similar to Isolde, and that bitch has been at my throat for years.

“We appear to be missing two. One of you go find them—I am tired of waiting.” Thalion’s arrogant voice grates my ears, making me speak before I think any further.

“The absent contestants are dead.” Footsteps halt as the king gradually shifts his attention to me, as if just looking at my face will cause him harm.

It might.

He purses his lips. “And you know this how, wraith?” The corner of my mouth lifts when I unsheathe my blade and spin it through my fingers to showcase the now dried blood. He stares at me longer than necessary, a wild energy flitting through his eyes. Interesting that he seems to catch himself off-guard, plastering a practiced smile on his features before continuing. “Well, it appears the first trial is complete! We have sixteen remaining contestants, though we must say goodbye to those who failed to retrieve an artifact.”

The king sits back in his chair, clasping his hands together after gesturing to the guard at the foot of his throne. The tall male nods and faces our group. The red and gold uniform does nothing to soften his severe features. The angles along his face are so sharp I am sure I could see the ridges in his bones up close. He regards each of us with distaste, raw venom leaking from him in droves.

“Each contestant who recovered an artifact may present them now.” The sound that leaves his mouth does not match his person in the slightest. He speaks with a high, almost whiny tone. Thirteen people step forward to set their artifacts at the guard’s feet, and the tightness in my chest becomes less restrictive when Isaiah returns to his spot after securing his success in the trial.

I do not move, interested in seeing how the prince will respond.

“Now, will the fruitless contestants please step forward.” There’s movement in my peripheral, but I’m focused on the pompous, smirking prince in front of me.

He raises a brow, nodding to where the two unlucky assassins stand at the head of our group. I remain still, offering him the slightest smile that dares him to speak against me. His jaw works as he looks me over, clearly unsure whether saying something is worth the potential consequences.

“As unfortunate as it is to lose two additional competitors, that is the nature of the trials,” the king announces, standing from his cushioned seat. “As such—”

“Wait.” It is embarrassingly difficult to suppress my smile, a fluttering sensation working under my skin. The prince pushes off his imitation throne and stands next to his father, gesturing calmly to me. “The wraith did not present an artifact and must step forward for the pardoning.”

Thalion’s chest rises thoughtfully as he struggles to focus on me once more. “Ms. Mistaire, you will join your counterparts as Prince Caspian has dutifully informed me of your failure in the trial.”

There are times when silence is as effective at carving open an opponent as a blade.

This is certainly one of those moments.

I had thought that having an audience through this competition would be maddening, though I am currently relishing their presence. Holding the prince’s scathing gaze, I reach into my clothing and pull out the ring. I raise my brows as I twirl the object around my finger before flicking it to the pile of artifacts, settling into my stance once more.

The clink of its landing is pure ecstasy as the prince’s face blazes with heat. His fists contract, and I know that if we were in a different setting, he would be the one challenging me this time. Thalion glares at him like he’s a child who needs lecturing before shaking the entire situation off and returning to his speech.

“What are your names?” he asks the two standing closest to him.

“Vincent.”

“Saben.”

“Ah, yes—well, it is unfortunate that we must part ways with Vincent and Saben.” An armed guard quietly steps behind the two assassins, and a tingling chill swirls in my torso. “We thank you for your sacrifice.”

Time stalls. The air surrounding me becomes electric. I can name the number of moments I have ever been shocked on one hand…including now.

There is but a second between the king’s final word and the bodies of the two men dropping through the air. The thump of their heads penetrates the room, followed by the rest of their bodies. One of the men—Saben—falls in such a direction that the blood spurting from his gaping neck shoots across my waist.

Fuck’s sake. These will need an extra washing now.

Screams radiate from the audience, sharp intakes of breath the only thing I hear from the other competitors. But it isn’t the death that shocks me. No, it’s that the king has shamelessly shown his true self.

To the people, he presents himself as a kind, generous ruler—one who punishes only in the name of justice. But I am intimate with who he is deep inside, and the man I see in front of me—eyes gleaming with child-like excitement at the death of two citizens—is exactly who he hides behind the facade.

Why is he doing this? How will this serve any purpose except to ruin his meticulously crafted image?

My eyes narrow, shifting to the prince. Did he know? Was he attempting to kill me by calling out my lack of an artifact? Those thoughts mute when his horror-stricken face turns my way, pinning me with his scared eyes. Is that regret I see?

I no longer care. I have no qualms about being killed in this competition, but I will not allow Isaiah to participate any further.

As I move to grab my friend’s arm and drag him from the castle, several guards enter our space, one for every assassin still alive. My will shifts to killing the bastard breathing on me but I’m too stunned by the device he’s clamped around my neck.

What the fuck is going on?

My hands immediately reach for the cool object and attempt to find its clasp. A few of the others curse, demanding to know what’s happening. The people on the sides of the room are either running out or watching with hesitancy. I look to Caspian once more, promising the death of his entire family for this .

My threat does nothing as he doesn’t seem worried about me, but instead worried for me?

Nauseating laughter forces my awareness to Thalion, who places a hand on his abdomen. “Oh, my! Did I forget to mention a few of the rules during the initiation ceremony? I suppose I did.” He chuckles, shaking his head as if this was some slip of the mind.

“There will not just be one winner after the three trials, but also only one survivor. In this castle, your lives belong to me. The devices you now wear have been created specifically to track you. They are only removable at my touch, so you will not succeed in any attempt to unfasten them.

“From this moment forward, you will not step foot out of Valoria, and if you leave the castle grounds, you will return by midnight. Break either of those rules, or attempt to tamper with your devices in any manner, and their defensive response will ignite, leaving you headless.”

Aether damn me as I am one broken thread of restraint away from advancing on the king right now and ending all of this here. However, given the circumstances, I know every competitor would most likely be killed. Including Isaiah.

Fuck, how am I supposed to plan the king’s death while simultaneously ensuring Is wins the competition? Everything will need to be timed just right. I should have known better than to allow his participation, but that part of the past is negligible. I will ensure he wins these trials .

“No questions? Wonderful! Off you go, then.” Thalion dismisses our group with the wave of a hand as he walks down to our level and leaves the room with a fully guarded escort.

I spare no one a last glance before striding through the center of the slick floor, leaving crimson footprints behind me as I head to my room.