Chapter 17
Seventeen
Jasyn ignored the letter. He told himself he would only read it if he came out of the Undertaking alive. There was no point in considering Iskra’s words if he would be dead by tonight.
He spent the night before trying to sleep, and when that didn’t work, he went outside and gardened. Mych joined him, disapproving of his nightly activity.
“You’ll be tired,” he had said.
“I’ll be calm,” Jasyn had responded.
So, they worked together in silence for a few hours before he finally let himself sleep until the morning sun rose.
Now, he trekked behind Mych, who led him to the cave where the Undertaking would transpire. As he walked the streets, townspeople bowed their heads, children running up to him to give him pebbles or flowers or baked goods. He placed his hand on his chest in thanks for each one.
When he passed a specific road, he eyed a shop he had never entered. He knew that inside was one of the most important things in his life. It was a scary revelation how much Iskra meant to him. It was even scarier to realize their paths would never converge in the same way as before.
It wasn’t much longer before they were at the opening of the cave, the wide expanse looking like a mouth that would swallow him and the other competitors whole.
Last year, he was here saying his goodbyes to his sister and father, where, hours later, he only greeted his father again.
Another competitor had been carrying him on his back, the one who had ensured his father continued his rulership.
That competitor was now living comfortably, no longer worrying about his pockets ever emptying.
Today, it was just his parents there.
His mother crashed into him. “My boy.”
There were tears in her eyes, and he did everything he could to only instill confidence in his mother. He didn’t cry or show any sign of fear.
His father patted his arm, and Jasyn bent to give him a hug too. This was the first time in thirty-one years he wasn’t entering the dragon’s den. He couldn’t imagine the swirl of emotions.
“Come back to us,” his father whispered. “I don’t care about the titles anymore. Just come back.”
Jasyn hitched a breath. His whole life, his father had drilled into him and his siblings the importance of keeping the crown within the family, but after losing two of his children, his father’s priorities must have changed.
“I’ll do my best,” he told his father.
He could hear his mother’s sniffles as he left.
Right before entering the cave, he caught a quick glimpse of the minister.
Kryth seemed calm, and it was eerie to think about how the minister was connected to the gods.
Did he already know who would be leaving this alive?
Jasyn tried not to stare too closely, but the minister noticed his gaze because he gave Jasyn a bright smile, like he was satisfied already with the outcome.
Iskra had been given a few more hours of freedom the night before the Undertaking, a gift from Kryth.
She spent it by the river, picking grass and weaving it together.
She wondered what Jasyn was doing. It was a beautiful night, the stars above them twinkling.
Since she had been trapped by Kryth, she hadn’t seen the night sky, save for the night of the party.
She soaked it in now, the beauty of the darkness surrounding her.
Children ran by her, parents scolding them for getting their clothes dirty, but Iskra was not bothered once. Until Kryth came to retrieve her at first dawn, she hadn’t realized how long she had been outside.
They walked to the cave, and she felt so overcome with emotions: regret, longing, fear, sadness. Before diving into the dark, she took one last look at the bright world around her and took a deep breath. Then, she entered with her head high.
Jasyn would win this, become king, and live a full, happy life, she promised herself.
The tunnel to enter the cave was tight, but then, a large cavern expanded in front of him. It was daunting, knowing that in a few minutes, the room—lit by skylights above—would be covered in blood. Would his own body be ripped to shreds?
“Prince Jasyn.” The familiar voice made Jasyn still, along with Mych, who was next to him.
“Bron?” Mych’s voice was small, hurt.
Bron smiled at them both, answering a question Jasyn had before he could even ask. “Who wouldn’t take the chance to be king? All that money was too hard to pass up.”
“Does Lady Esi know?” Jasyn asked, confused. There were signs Bron had been interested in his lady, but Jasyn would never expect him to go this far, especially when Esi had her heart set on Dominik.
“She’ll know once I’m the victor.”
“And Dominik?” Mych’s arms were crossed, a defense against the pain. Jasyn didn’t know what—if anything—transpired between them, but clearly, there was enough weight there now that it affected Mych.
Bron’s eyes hardened. “She can do whatever she pleases with him. I’m not here because of her.”
“Why not seek a different future for yourself? Is power more important than a true connection with someone?” Mych’s voice was cold.
If Jasyn saw it correctly, Bron’s face softened. “I’m sorry.” The guard’s voice cracked, revealing the sincerity of those simple words. “I know we discussed a future in which we would be working side-by-side, but I don’t know if being Esi and Jasyn’s guard would be enough to fulfill what I need.”
Jasyn squinted at Bron. There was more to this story.
“Then you have no imagination if you think our only options are being guards or you becoming king.” Mych turned to Jasyn. “Good luck, Your Highness.”
Jasyn bowed his head. “Thank you for all your work.”
They hugged each other quickly, and Mych left without sparing Bron a glance.
“He’s right.” Jasyn said.
Bron whipped his head in his direction.
“You two would have had my blessing to leave your work and live your lives away from the castle if you desired it. Hopefully, that future is still possible—if we make it out alive.”
Bron shook his head, and Jasyn saw a deep sadness cross his face, like he didn’t truly want this either, but he had been cornered into it.
Jasyn didn’t have a chance to pry for answers, because a large bell sounded, and the competitors focused on the minister.
Kryth seemed ravenous for a good show as he smiled at them, his hands occupied with a bundle of smoking, burning herbs.
The stench was strong, and Jasyn wondered what exactly the point was.
“The Undertaking will begin shortly. There is only one rule: fight until one of you gets the Heart, or the court will burn to ash.”
Jasyn swallowed, thinking about Iskra. A part of him wished he had read the letter, but it would have only distracted him.
“Please position yourselves,” the minister announced. “When I ring this bell again, my fierce dragon will come out and begin this all.”