Chapter 6 #4
I’m not good at counting such large groups of people, but I think there must be about a hundred of them. “I thought there would be more.”
“Some fail, a few are expelled.” She lowers her voice. “Some die. And some are sent to watchtowers and hills away from the city.”
“They don’t wait until you graduate?”
“Not always. And you can finish the program in a regional outpost.”
I wonder what would happen if I was sent away from Dracolius City, far from my brother, but then my memory lapse shatters and I remember I’m not a recruit. I won’t be sent anywhere.
Anger coils in my chest as I consider that I got fooled by Alayel, that I was an idiot for not seeing the wordplay in that shady contract. Now I’m here, watching the sentinels and recruits from behind a metal grate.
No sign of Alayel down there.
The sound of a gong reverberates in the auditorium, and the people who were seated stand up. I lean on the balcony, my forehead against the grate, my eyes locked on the door behind the dais.
An old man wearing a heavy velvet tunic and a crown comes from the door—the king.
If it wasn’t for his clothing, he’d look like any other man.
So… ordinary. Oddly, I expected something different, and I’m not sure what.
A young woman and a teen girl follow him, both wearing intricate tiaras, and they sit.
“The princesses,” Celine whispers. I had surmised as much. “Ledeia is such a…” She huffs, her eyes lighting up with anger.
Princess Ledeia has her head high in an arrogant posture, her long brown hair falling in waves on her shoulder.
“You know her?”
“She’s in my year. Acts as if she poops flowers.”
I laugh, even if I’m surprised that the king would send his daughter to the Sky Academy. “What about her sister?”
“First time I’m seeing her.”
The teen girl, now fidgeting in her chair, clearly nervous, must be Princess Cassiana. She’s a sharp contrast to her sister, who looks like she owns the auditorium, the kingdom, and maybe the world.
A guard passes a speaking trumpet to the king, who steps forward.
“Dear Sky Guard, Sky Academy, Dracolius Council, I’m addressing you because you’re the pride of our kingdom. Our defenders, alongside Auranius. I’ve had the pleasure of being king for a long time, and I intend to continue for many, many years to come, but alas, I’m not immortal—unfortunately.”
Some isolated chuckles are heard in the audience, and I suppose not everyone is sure if it’s a joke or not. I’m not sure.
The king continues, “One day, one of my heirs will take my place. Now, tradition dictates that the eldest son should inherit the throne, and yet, as you can see, I have two daughters.”
Princess Ledeia raises her head even higher, looking down at the recruits and sentinels as if they were some kind of vermin.
Her father says, “As much as I respect the old ways, I also want the best for Dracolius, and that’s why, from now on, I declare that the crown will not be given to my eldest child by default. Instead, it will go to the one who’s most deserving, to the one who’ll be the best leader.”
The older princess’s expression doesn’t change, I guess because she’s still certain it will be her. Cassiana, for her part, widens her eyes and looks at her father as if confused.
Someone claps in the auditorium, and soon a round of applause fills the benches and the balcony.
“No war, then,” Celine whispers, relief clear in her countenance.
“Wait, wait,” the king says. “There’s more.
Another candidate. Tradition dictates that only legitimate children should be heirs, and yet, I feel that it’s an unfair rule.
The future of Dracolius is more important than some outdated tradition.
For this reason, let me present the other candidate for the throne: my eldest child.
And if he’s being recognized as a prince, it’s because he’s proven himself to deserve the title. ”
A horrible presentiment comes to me, and my body feels cold. No, it can’t be.
Meanwhile, Princess Ledeia trembles for a second, soon resuming her confident expression.
The king points to the door. “Let me introduce my son, Alayel Stormchaser.”
I wish I was imagining things, but I’m not.
My legs wobble as I watch my former traveling companion come out of a side door, dressed in a fine black suit, wearing a gold circlet on his head. It makes no sense, and yet, the timing fits. Everything fits.
The worst is that he manages to look even more dashing than before, and my heart cracks with anger.
He bows before the king, under Princess Ledeia’s murderous glare. “Your Majesty’s too kind.”
His humbleness sounds so fake, so rehearsed, compared to his cocky demeanor when he told me he would soon have power.
So this is what he wanted. This is what he meant. And now he’s on the dais, bathing in glory, while I’m here. Well played, Alayel, very well played.
The king takes his arm and raises it. “You may know him as a new instructor, taking classes with the recruits. But he’s your prince. He might be your king one day, and you shall respect him as such.”
I think I’m going to puke.