CHAPTER TWO #2
“If you did your job properly, you’d have noticed that Eloise forced us to be late.” Diana scolded the guard now at my side. I didn’t think it was possible, but her scowl deepened.
“Gideon,” I spared a genuine smile for the man—Diana’s personal guard. Though he’d always felt more like mine, seeing how much time he spent with me instead of her.
It wasn’t as if she needed him—not with the powerful magic she possessed—but all court members were required by law to employ at least one guard.
And so he spent most of his time training me. Teaching me to defend myself without magic. He was the sole reason I didn’t feel entirely powerless.
And the only soul I cared about in this gods-forsaken kingdom.
“Eloise, late? I can’t say I’m entirely surprised.
” Gideon ignored her insult, instead throwing me a wink I would have missed if I hadn’t been studying him, the fatigue marring his expression.
Tonight, the lines beginning to grow along his eyes seemed to double in number. He looked just as nervous as I felt.
My smile widened despite the growing pit in my stomach.
“Old habits are hard to shake. Even harder to kill.” I fought a hiss as Diana’s nails dug into my arm.
He donned his nicest set of armor, and had decided to style his raven-hued hair, the length of it nearly reaching his shoulders when combed back. He’d been clean shaven the last time I saw him, but his grey-speckled beard was already making a reappearance.
The arched doors to the wing reserved for the celebration approached at an alarming speed. They were just doors, yet they seemed to smile at my arrival with sharp teeth. Like they anticipated the violence that would begin on the other side.
“Just promise me that you’ll remember what I taught you.” Gideon pulled on my other arm hard enough to stop our momentum.
The softness in his russet eyes made me want to curse the gods in turn.
On my fifteenth birthday, he’d found me stumbling back to the castle, battered and bruised, with a crumpled piece of paper bunched in my fist. The single name, sprawled in neat handwriting, was somehow still legible.
He’d replaced it with a blade before I could even finish telling him what happened. And hadn’t allowed me to leave the training room until I managed to disarm him.
It had taken me several hours, and a single stroke of luck. I’d cried the entire time.
I shoved the memory into a dark corner. Forced steel into my voice. “I could never forget.”
Nine years’ worth of his teachings were now ingrained into the very way my body moved and breathed. His kindness could never be forgotten.
Neither would the hand he kept extending on my worst days.
The worry creases between his brows eased.
“I know.”
Diana tugged on my arm once more. She shoved the doors open, and led us directly into an already heavy crowd.
Lilting music drifted through the air, alongside the aroma of spices wafting from the grand buffet table on the far right of the room.
Gemstones of all kinds dangled from the chandeliers above, tossing their glittering, colorful light down onto all surfaces, including the faces of everyone here.
Windows lined the entirety of every wall, making it seem as though one could touch the clouds if they reached high enough.
The other competitors were lined up at the front of the room, waiting before a red carpeted dais stretching thirty steps upwards. I counted each set of stiff shoulders as we approached. Twenty, including myself.
Diana shoved two girls apart, only to set me in between them. “Don’t you dare move,” she hissed in my ear, then aimed for the steps of the dais.
Reigning in my scoff, I ignored the wilting looks the two girls at my sides gave me, and focused on Maverick instead.
He conversed with another member of court whose name I never bothered to remember, leaning towards the older man to better grasp his words over the cacophony of the crowd.
His easy smile and drawn-back shoulders portrayed a perfect picture of undisturbed contentment. To those who didn’t care to look any closer, it was indeed a masterfully woven portrait.
But I cared far too much.
His portrait was frayed. That seemingly easy smile was too tight. Overcompensated the clench in his jaw, and the squint in his eyes.
As Diana reached them, Maverick brought a hand up, silencing the man mid-sentence. Any contempt that lay in his expression cleared immediately. His smile widened to display all his teeth, turning that squint into genuine mirth.
All those frayed details, painted over in an instant.
The king was a handsome man. And he knew that fact well enough to brand it as a tool when required.
Though the gods had kept him alive for several hundred years, he didn’t look a day older than his late twenties.
His wavy, onyx locks were neatly combed, jaw dusted with just enough stubble to accentuate his sharp bone structure.
Standing taller than almost any man, his strength remained visible even under his dark navy ensemble.
Each time he shifted, the muscles along his biceps pulled taught against the material.
Indestructible both magically, and physically.
But it was his eyes that could suck one’s breath right out of their chest. The way his near-depthless eyes, their color darker than his hair, settled on someone of interest was enough to cause knees to quake, and send stomachs fluttering.
He stood as he greeted Diana, without bothering to dismiss the other man. He didn’t need to.
She said something I couldn’t hear despite the quiet settling over the crowd.
Whatever it was, Maverick found it rather amusing. His laugh tumbled down the steps of the dais, a melody that rivalled the cellos and their cheerful vibrato. But when he replied, he looked directly at me.
Goosebumps raced down my arms. Lingering before the threshold of fear and anticipation yet never daring to fully settle into either emotion.
“Each year, we fill this room.”
Maverick’s words rang out, his eyes finally leaving mine to study the rest of the crowd. Everyone stopped what they were doing, the sound of his voice alone a command to pause and listen. “We fill it with fresh faces—fresh hope.”
With Maverick’s attention elsewhere, I let my own wander. I’d heard this speech too many times to count. I couldn’t be bothered listen to it again.